Page 26 of When We Are Complete

“Well, I think you’ll both get on brilliantly. With Jake on board, and you at the helm, we’ve got the best team to make this festival unforgettable.”

Jake flashes her an easy grin. “Looking forward to it, Mayor.”

I force my own brittle smile, swallowing the words clawing at the back of my throat. “Me too.”

I take a seat at the opposite side of the table to Jake, my heart still racing as I open my notepad, determined to focus on anything other than the fact that Jake Tanner is now officially part of my life again. This is bad, comically so. The universe really has a sick sense of humor.

But Harbor’s Edge needs this festival, and I need to be the one to pull it off perfectly, even with the ghost of my past sitting opposite me.

The mayor beams and slides the plate of pastries toward me, a buttery scent filling the room. “Help yourself, please. These are from Sweet Current Bakery. The croissants are to die for.”

I shake my head with a polite smile, raising my hand. “Oh, no thanks. I’m gluten-free.” The lie slips out smoothly, a reflex I don’t even question anymore. I’m not gluten-free. Not really. But rules—rules make things easier. Simpler. Safer. They give me something to hold on to when everything else seems out of control. And if that means pretending I can’t eat pastries, then so be it.

The mayor gives me an understanding look, and the conversation moves on. But I catch Jake watching me, his gaze flickering with something I can’t quite place, so I focus on my notepad like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. If I keep my eyes on the agenda, maybe I can pretend Jake Tanner isn’t here at all.

But then his fingers brush mine as he slides a paper across the table, and the simple contact jolts, a reminder of every touch, every groaned-out word from that night I’m trying so hard to forget

Beside me, the mayor claps her hands together. “This festival is going to be bigger and better than any Founder’s Day Festival we’ve ever had. It’s been a tough few years for Harbor’s Edge, and we want to hold a festival that will bring back the tourists in large numbers and put us on the map.”

We both nod, and I line up my pens and notepad with military precision. “The mayor is right. We need to stay focused on the big picture, which is bringing in tourists and making this the best festival ever. There’s going to be a strong focus on sustainability, too, which will be a big part of the marketing campaigns. We need to ensure our environmental impact plan is robust. Biodegradable or recyclable materials for vendors, strict management protocols. And that applies to all phases of the festival, including construction.”

Jake makes notes in his book. “Got it.”

I catch myself stealing glances at him, cataloging the familiar slope of his jaw, the way his hair falls just right, the ease in his movements—it’s all too intimate, too close, and I hate myself a little for how much I still want him.

In fact, it makes me want to hurl something at him—my notebook, our past, the weight of a thousand what-ifs—but instead, I just keep going. “We’re also aiming for zero waste this year. Every detail matters. It’s not just about throwing up some installations and calling it a day.”

“Detail is my middle name,” Jake says.

The mayor laughs. “Oh, you two are quite the team already!”

If byteamshe means two people who’d rather swallow nails than be in the same room, sure, we’re the dream team. But I’m here for a reason and I can’t lose sight of that.

“Let’s talk schedule,” I say, steering us back on track. “Deadlines, check-ins, permits. We have a lot to cover.”

“Lead the way, Kelly,” Jake says. His voice drops low when he speaks my name, and the sound slides down my spine, lingering. I cross my legs under the table.

We go through the tentative schedule I’ve been working on, and then discuss the scope of work, before the mayor suggests the two of us head for a site visit as soon as the meeting is over. I’m hoping Jake is busy, but he’s available and offers to drive us both there.Great.

When he reaches across the table to pass me a copy of his company’s proposal, his proximity floods my senses, and for a brief, dangerous moment, I’m right back in his arms, his mouth trailing fire over my skin.

The meeting winds up, and the mayor thanks us both. When she shakes my hand, she pauses. “I have absolute faith in you. This is going to be the best festival we’ve ever had.”

“I won’t let you down,” I reply.

Soon Jake and I are alone in the meeting room, both standing and collecting our things.

“We need to talk.” I force a swallow against the dry of my throat.

He turns to face me and remains silent, waiting.

“Look, we’re adults.” I keep my voice steady. “I don’t want to work with you—let’s be real clear on that—but Harbor’s Edge deserves the best Founder’s Day Festival, so that’s what it’ll get.”

“Are you sure about this? Do we need to talk about what happened the other night?” The deep brown of his eyes searches mine.

Heat colors my cheeks. Why did he have to even mention it? “Absolutely not. There’s nothing to talk about. We both had too much to drink and made a mistake, and we can just pretend it never happened. Everything will be fine.” Saying it aloud is like swallowing glass, but I’m good at pretending.

Jake extends his hand, and I hesitate for a split second, caught off guard by the gesture, before I take it. His palm is flush against mine, gripping firmly. My stomach somersaults, traitorous and foolish.

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