30. Mandy

The builders, painters, and installers I'd hired had started their work a couple of weeks ago, and as I walked through the massive entry hall that smelled of fresh paint, I could tell that things were coming together slower than I wanted.

The tile was laid down, but the grout hadn't gone in. Some of the so-called finished walls only had one coat of paint. Art was stored alongside used paintbrushes, rollers, and open tins. Everyone was in overdrive, but nothingwas finished. The grand opening was three weeks away, and in just two weeks, Jackson's board of directors would be doing a walk-through. This had to quicken up.

"Can we get guys on caulking, please?" I shouted over the sound of a jackhammer somewhere in the distance. Why the fuck is a jackhammer being used two weeks before the walk-through? "And some on paint? These walls are atrocious."

"Everyone is busy right now." Nathan pulled his hard hat down over his brows as another worker walked past, a handful of lumber tucked under his arm, and I genuinely had no idea where he was heading.

"Then get more guys in," I hissed, grabbing the clipboard from his hand and looking it over. A list of names with duties assigned next to them, each one booked solid. "The budget is whatever you want. Hire more."

"Yes ma'am," he grunted.

"At least twenty more," I insisted, handing him back the clipboard.

I let out a stressful groan as he walked off, wishing Harry had gotten off his damn ass and showed up on time so I wasn't in this alone, also wishing Jackson had agreed to come with me. He'd been so busy lately that I'd hardly seen him, barely spoken to him. Meeting after meeting, he'd said. I was trying not to let it bother me, but he'd been there before when things were busy. Something was clearly going on behind the scenes, something he didn't want to talk to me about.

I at least had something to look forward to, though. Jack was taking me out for dinner tonight—an apology for his absence. He was picking me up at seven, and taking me somewhere new; hopefully, if things went well, we'd end up at his house after. I'd get to the bottom of whatever was going on with him. It was all I could think about.

That and the fucking paint.

————

As I walked into the massive room toward the back of the campus that Jack had allocated for shared offices, a familiar face struggled into the room from the opposite set of doors. What I thought was going to be my saving grace morphed into yet another disappointment.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I hissed, taking in every inch of the food-stained clothes and oversized hoodie Harry wore. He looked like a goddamn mess, and with every step I took toward him, he looked even worse. Massive dark circles, unkempt hair, unshaven. He wasn't even wearing a hard hat or a safety vest.

"Sorry," he grumbled. He rubbed his eyes, scratched his jaw. "I've not been feeling well. I know I'm late."

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"Not yet. I've got an appointment tomorrow," he said, his eyes raking across my body and landing far too solidly on my left hand. "Why are you still wearing the ring? Surely you can take it off while you're in a construction zone."

"I don't want anyone asking questions if they notice." I spun the ring on my finger with my thumb. That was a lie—I didn't always wear it when I was here, but knowing I was going to see Jack tonight was enough to make me want to. "Why do you care?"

"I thought you were breaking it off," he snapped. He stepped out of the way as a man carried cans of paint past him and toward the opposite wall. Across the room, people began to bring in piece by piece of the hanging art that Jack and I had commissioned, and if I was smart, I would go over there and help instead of staying with Harry. "You were supposed to end the fake engagement."

"He didn't stand me up. He was late. I didn't get the chance to explain?—"

"So you're defending him now?" he asked, his lips pursing as he looked from me to the ring and back again, as if it was offending him just by being on my hand. "Do you understand why I'm worried about this, Mandy?"

Dragging my tongue along my teeth, I sighed. "Look," I started, clutching my clipboard to take out my frustrations on something that wasn't him. "Miscommunications happen. I'm not defending it. I'm just not as upset as I was on the plane. Things are fine, he's fine, we're fine."

"I don't think you're seeing things the way they are."

The cheap wood of my clipboard nearly snapped. "And I don't think you're giving him an ounce of grace. Both of us can still be somewhat correct."

"You're looking from the inside out, not the outside in. Of course you're going to feel like things are going well, but for fucks sake, just take one look at what the press has said about his past relationships. He doesn't give a shit about the women he fucks."

I blinked at him, my mind going blank with rage, my jaw stiffening, my eyes struggling to focus. "You have no right to tell me if he does or doesn't give a shit about me."

"I'm not saying he definitely doesn't. But you have to understand that there is a chance. You have to see where I'm coming from."

In all honesty, I didn't want to.

"I'm sorry, I know I said I'd chill out on this, but I can't just stand by as he breaks you and mends you and then starts again. I know there are feelings involved, I know you have history, but it's clouding your vision." His hand pushed through the grease in his hair, slicking the curls back far too easily. "I'm terrified for you."

Of course I'd considered it. In every passing moment where I wasn't all for Jack, those were the exact thoughts swirling in my head. But there were too many green flags, too many positives to this, and the goddamn tattoo… I couldn't imagine he was getting a tattoo for every other woman he wanted to sleep with.

But I also knew that Harry's worries weren't unfounded. I'd been broken by him so wholly before that I thought I'd never recover. I was worried it would happen again, too, but maybe not quite as much as Harry was. He didn't want to see me hurt.

"I'm not clutching at straws here, Harry. I've got… reasons to be in this, to feel the way I do. He's not just going to drop me."

"Well, where is he, then? He's certainly not here. I haven't seen him around the office. If he cared so much, Mandy, wouldn't he be here with you?" He snickered, stepping closer. He was making a scene now, drawing attention from the men and women at work around us. If I was unlucky enough, one of them would video it and sell it to the press.

"He's busy." I swallowed. I hated how he was able to use this to his advantage. I didn't like the fact that I hadn't seen much of Jackson lately, but the fact that Harrywas starting to notice wasn't a good sign. "He's taking me out to dinner tonight. We're fine."

"Are you? When was the last time you even saw him, Mands?"

My hesitation was enough to answer that question.

"Fucks sake," he hissed, taking a deep breath as he forced himself to stare at the ceiling instead of me. "Please, for me, just try to keep your head above water. You've been broken once. There's only so many times we can put the pieces back together and still have a functional person."

I flinched at his words and took a step back. I'd lost count of how many times Harry had voiced his distaste for my situation, and every time, it hit me like a javelin to the gut.

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Wanted to tell him to keep his nose out of my business, wanted to tell him that I could handle myself. But his points were valid — I was questioning what was going on in Jack's mind. There were occasional red flags. I couldn't say it out loud, couldn't accept it when this was everything to me, but they existed. And I knew he was only desperate to keep me intact.

"I know you're trying to help," I breathed, my voice calmer than I felt. "But you're not the one in this situation. I am. And I can take care of myself."

"You thought that last time?—"

"I was twenty-one." I cut him off, pointing out the one thing he'd failed to consider. "I didn't have much back then. I had him, and I had class, a few friends, and an addiction to pinball. I wasn't nearly as strong then. I'm older, now. Wiser. Stronger."

His eyes locked to mine. Everything about him had softened slightly, the crease between his brows ironing out, but his lips were pressed into a hard, thin line. "I don't know if that's enough with him, Mandy."

I didn't want to be doing this. Not here, not anywhere, and especially not with him in whatever state this was. Unwell or not, it wasn't fair to me. Not when we had enough on our plates with the walk through in two weeks. "Please let the dead dog lie. For now, at least. I can handle myself."