Page 9 of Abyss

“Absolutely not,” I grit before catching Maddy’s raised brows again. She’s . . . disappointed, and that irks me like nothing else. I close my eyes, trying to center myself for a moment. “Fine. I’ll go a little easier on the next person, but perhaps wait until they’re a bit seasoned before they’re in charge of my table.”

“Thank you.” Stella’s shoulders release with a sigh before she walks away to get us more wine.

Maddy’s half smile is obvious behind the fingers over her mouth. “I’m proud of you, Dad. Looks like an old dogcanlearn new tricks after all.” At my responding glare, she quicklyadds, “So, about that woman you’re going to hire to replace Belinda for the next three months . . .”

Wait a minute. Did I just miss some vital information I don’t recall ever getting?

“What woman? What are you talking about?”

“You’re still looking for Belinda’s replacement, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

Maddy steamrolls right past me. “I have a friend who desperately needs a job for a few months. She just graduated with a masters in art therapy and has a permanent position with a hospital in Portland starting at the end of summer, and—”

“How does that have anything to do with a company that specializes in Earth Sciences?” That pounding headache I referred to earlier is getting worse.

“Dad, she’s smart and talented. I’m positive she can learn whatever you need her to. She’s just had a rough year and has piled up a few bills. And while she hasn’t been an admin before, I’ve volunteered with her at multiple events. She’s very dedicated and a quick learner. She even teaches free art classes to kids suffering from anxiety on the weekends.”

When I don’t respond, I swear her eyes get rounder and her bottom lip pops out. It doesn’t matter how old your kid gets, I can attest to the fact that it’s fucking hard to say no.

“Please, Dad.”

I groan, running my hand over my face. There aren’t many people who can muscle me into doing things, but one of them happens to be my biggest weakness and the woman sitting across the table from me. The other being my best friend, Garrett. “Fine. Have her come in for an interview with Belinda tomorrow. I’ll be in Portland but—”

“Yay! Thank you!” Maddy covers her lips with the tips of her fingers and sends me an air kiss. “I owe you big time. Andif it’s not too much to ask, can you not fire her like the servers Stella was talking about? I know you’re a stickler, but just remember, she’s my friend, too.”

My jaw tightens as I shove away thoughts of the amber-eyed, anxious woman I’d fired a few days ago. “The only thing you owe me is a dance at your wedding.”

Maddy lifts the new glass of wine Stella just brought us, and I clink mine with hers. “Oh, come on, you know I’d never forget my pops.”

I take a sip. “Now, tell me all about how the wedding planning is going.”

Chapter Four

HUDSON

Waiting for my coffee in our building’s lobby, I flip through my email on my phone, hoping for an update from Rose City Skyport (RCS) regarding the status of our contract negotiation, knowing I won’t find anything.

Last Friday in Portland, my team and I answered our prospective client’s questions the best we could, but I have a feeling they’ll be having similar discussions with our competitors this week. And I’m pretty sure we won’t secure their formal answer until that all unfolds.

My nostrils flare as I stare mindlessly at an email from my finance department, not really registering the words. It’s not an unexpected reaction, given this is a familiar response to anything that reminds me of my brother and the woman I had come to care about.

Shaking off my irritation, I grab my coffee from the bar and saunter into the elevator, mentally gearing up for the day. Thankfully, I squeezed in a workout this morning with my best friend, Garrett, a pilot out of the Bay Area. Though it’sbecome rarer since he and his wife Bella had their daughter, we try to meet up at the gym whenever we can manage it.

A smile pulls at my lips when I think about the videos he showed me of her trying to walk, but my good mood takes an immediate nosedive when the doors to my floor open.

My lingering smile drops when my gaze settles on the woman sitting behind Belinda’s desk.

Cascading waves of dark silky hair—well past her shoulders—frame her face, brushing against the paperwork in front of her. Her thick lashes flutter before she puts the end of her pen to her bottom lip, engrossed in whatever she’s reading. And though she hasn’t looked up, with the glint of that piercing over her top lip, there’s no mistaking who she is.

And . . . is that a homemade cake in the portable cake box in front of her?

Belinda messaged me late Friday evening to tell me the woman Maddy sent her way turned out to be a great fit and was ready to start on Monday.

But surely, she couldn’t have meant the same one . . .

Surely, the universe wouldn’t send thesame damn womanto ruin my mood again.

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