Page 21 of The Silver Fox Brother

"They didn't say who sent them?" I ask Maya through the open door.

"No. Delivery guy just said they were for you. Premium rush order."

Premium rush. Rowan's style—last minute, expensive, meant to impress. I should be touched. Should feel appreciated, loved, thought of. Instead, I feel tired.

"They're beautiful," Maya offers.

"Someone's got good taste."

"Yeah," I say, touching one of the blooms. Soft, perfect, probably cost two hundred dollars.

"Someone does."

I leave them on my desk and turn my attention to the millwork drawings. The fabricator has done excellent work—custom cabinetry for the Chen penthouse master suite,floating shelves with integrated lighting, a built-in vanity with hidden storage. I mark my approvals, flag one dimension that needs adjustment, and send the annotated drawings back to Maya for forwarding.

By nine-fifteen, the studio is fully alive. My three designers arrive in quick succession—James, who specializes in spatial planning; Claudia, whose eye for color is better than mine; and Liam, who handles all our 3D renderings and client visualizations. They gather at the farmhouse table with coffee and laptops, discussing the Williamsburg loft project in the shorthand we've developed over years of working together.

This is the rhythm I love. The hum of creativity, the solving of spatial puzzles, the transformation of empty rooms into places where people will live their lives. This is where I'm not performing. This is where I'm just... me.

"Win, Chen materials are staged in Conference Room A," Maya calls across the studio.

"Samples look gorgeous. You're going to love the stone options."

I head to the smaller conference room—the one with the big table and better light for reviewing materials. Maya's laid everything out with her usual precision: stone samples arranged by tone, fabric swatches grouped by texture, paint chips organized in gradient progressions. I run my hands over each material, testing how they feel together, how the light hits different surfaces, imagining them in the Chens' penthouse with its southern exposure and Central Park views.

The taupe limestone is perfect—warm without being yellow, substantial without feeling heavy. I pair it with a silk-wool blend in soft gray for the upholstered pieces, add texture with a nubby linen in cream. The palette is coming together, sophisticated and livable, exactly what the Chens asked for.

My phone buzzes. Rowan.

Rowan: Back in the city. Crazy day ahead. Dinner tonight?

I stare at the text. Last night I had space to breathe. Tonight, back to our apartment, back to proximity, back to pretending everything is fine.

Winter: Long day here too. What time were you thinking?

Rowan: 8? That Italian place you like?

The same restaurant where he stood me up last time. Does he even remember that?

Winter: Sure. See you there.

I pocket my phone and return to the materials.

Mr. and Mrs. Chen arrive at ten-thirty, impeccably dressed and genuinely excited to see the design direction. I walk them through the schematic plans, show them the material palette, explain my vision for creating zones within the open floor plan—sleeping area, sitting area, a small library nook by the windows where morning light will be ideal for reading.

Mrs. Chen runs her hand over the limestone sample.

"This is exactly what I imagined. Warm but not too warm. Sophisticated."

"It will age beautifully," I tell her.

"And the variation in the stone means each piece is unique. Your space will feel custom, not cookie-cutter."

"And the timeline?" Mr. Chen asks, always the practical one.

"You mentioned six months from contract to installation?"

"Six to nine months for a project this scale. We're currently in the schematic design phase—refining the overall vision. Next is design development, where we'll finalize every detail, every specification. Then procurement, fabrication, installation. I'll have a detailed timeline to you by end of week."