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“I feel so alone sometimes,” I admit. “Like I’m drowning and no one can see me going under.”

“You’re not alone.” Callie’s voice is fierce. “You have us. You always have us.”

“Not to mention three sexy contractors who are falling all over themselves to take care of you,” Aspen adds with a gentle smile.

My chest warms with their comfort. “You two can never leave town without me again. I can’t handle crisis management without my best friends.”

“Never again,” Callie swears, holding up her pinky.

“Absolutely never.” Aspen links her pinky with Callie’s.

I join the promise, some of the weight lifting off my shoulders. They’re right. I’m not alone. Even when everything else is falling apart, I have these two women who would go to war for me.

And maybe, just maybe, I have three men who might feel the same way.

Chapter Ten

LILY

Someone once said the best way to deal with grief is to lose yourself in work. Maybe I’ve taken that advice too literally, but staying busy keeps me from thinking about Mom’s confused face or the growing stack of bills on my desk.

The week blurs together like someone smeared watercolors across my calendar. I finish the living room disaster at Addison’s, only to run into a mountain of things in the bedrooms on Monday. Between that house and my part-time gig, I swear I’ve cleaned so much that my skin permanently smells like bleach. Wednesday, my suffering finally pays off. I find a lead through the ad I’m running, and I spend every spare second between cleaning jobs trying to set things up for that couple. By Thursday afternoon, I can’t remember if I ate lunch or stared at a protein bar for five minutes between jobs.

I chug my third triple shot latte and wince at my stomach’s angry growling as I hop out of my car. It’s an hour past my normal lunch time. My granola bar, the poor excuse of a snack, will have to wait since Mr. Wilson pulls into the driveway right at that moment. We’re touring another multi-million dollar property today. The caffeine buzzes through my veins like live electricity, making my hands shake as I grab my folio. People live on coffee all the time. Why can’t I?

“Ms. Emerson.” Tom approaches with that practiced smile, immaculate as always in designer jeans and a button-down. “Thank you again for accommodating my schedule.”

I plaster on my brightest professional smile, hoping I don’t smell like bleach. “Of course, Mr. Wilson. I think you’re going to love this property.”

As I launch into the tour, my mind keeps wandering. Did I lock the guys’ front door this morning? I need to pick up groceries for dinner tonight, assuming I can stay awake long enough to cook.

“The primary suite features a private balcony with panoramic mountain views,” I hear myself saying, but the words feel disconnected from my body. Like I’m watching someone else give this presentation.

“Lily?”

I blink, realizing Tom is staring at me with raised eyebrows. Heat flashes across my face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were okay. You seem distracted.” His expression shifts to something that might be genuine concern, which catches me off guard. Usually he’s too busy undressing me with his eyes to notice anything else.

Shit. I’m messing up this sale with a million-dollar client because I can’t focus for five minutes straight. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wilson. My mother’s been ill, and I’m afraid it’s been weighing on my mind.”

His face softens immediately. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, the gesture surprisingly gentle. “Take your time.”

The unexpected kindness nearly undoes me. I swallow hard, forcing myself back into professional mode. “Thank you. That’s very understanding of you.”

We finish the tour without any more lapses, and by the time we shake hands in the driveway, I’m confident I’ve salvaged the showing. Tom finally seems interested in a property. As his car disappears down the mountain road, exhaustion crashes over me like a tidal wave. I need to get back to the office and check in with my new clients. My phone shows a few missed messages, but the letters blur together when I try to read them.

With the extra work from Addison on top of this job and my other, I’m so tired I could sleep for a week. I think I’ve officially surpassed my working capacity. But I have to keep going. Shaking myself on the way into town, I blink hard a few times to clear the sleepiness. A few sales and I’ll be able to clear out some of the overdue balances. If Tom would make up his fucking mind, I could probably pay everything off, but nothing is guaranteed in real estate until the closing papers are signed. My hands shake so hard it’s a miracle I don’t sideswipe anyone’s car as I park in the Big Ridge Realty lot.

Note to self: slow down on the caffeine.

Inside, the fluorescent lights assault me. I wince and squint, frustrated that a headache begins pulsing behind my eyes. Gah. I don’t have time for a freaking headache.

Sarah waves from where she’s chatting with Addison, but her smile falters when she gets a good look at me. I probably look like death warmed over, but I need to power through the afternoon. Only a few more hours, then I can go home and collapse.

I drop into my desk chair and immediately feel the room tilt slightly to the right. My blood sugar must be crashing hard. I should have grabbed something more substantial than that energy bar this morning, but I was already running late and⁠—

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryan appears beside my desk. “You look a little pale.”