Page 105 of My Only

Something still wasn’t clicking.

I shook my head, exhaling.

I still don’t see what’s wrong with the blueprint.

“Well, what do you like to eat?” Harper asked, her tone light. “What makes Hassani go, yum?”

I let out a scoffing laugh, finally turning my attention to her.

It wasn’t lost on me that Harper was attracted to me. She didn’t exactly keep it a secret either. Harper was a beautiful woman, and she knew it. And while Ayla had made it clear she didn’t like her—probably for that very reason—I felt like I had it handled.

Harper and I worked together on a massive project, and keeping our working relationship functional was a priority. We needed to get the job done and get it done right. Calling out her forwardness, making it an issue, had the potential to create unnecessary tension—tension that could impact the work. So, I convinced myself it was easier, more logical, to let her flirty ways fly. To ignore it.

Women like Harper weren’t new to me. I’d dealt with plenty before. And in my mind, she was harmless.

Because at the end of the day, I was in control.

And there was no amount of beauty or flirting that could change that.

“I like simple things, I guess,” I replied, already shifting my focus back to my work.

“Like?”

“Surf and turf’s the one thing I know I can never go wrong with,” I said, sketching as I spoke. “My wife and I love the surf and turf at Vernon’s Prime & Seafood in Lower Manhattan. It’s near the Freedom Tower.”

I smiled to myself as I thought about how much Ayla loved their bread pudding. Watching her eat it was one of my favorite things. She was such a vocal eater when she really enjoyed something.

“She orders it every time,” I added. “That and their bread pudding. The dessert is her favorite.”

“We should go there then.”

That got my attention.

My gaze lifted to hers, and I blinked once.

“I could use something to eat, and so could you,” Harper continued. “Plus, you could grab Ayla,” she stressed her name, “that bread pudding you mentioned. I’m sure she’d be happy to have it when you get home.”

I looked away, considering that.

Bringing home the dessert would soften the blow of another late night at the office.

Things had been… off between Ayla and me for months. Missing that dinner at her mother’s house—the one where her mom introduced her boyfriend—was a serious blow. To both of us.

And even though Ayla told me she forgave me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed.

We spoke less on the phone. Spent less time together.

Most nights, by the time I got home, she was already asleep. And on weekends? She was either running errands, visiting her mom, or off doing something solo—mall trips, coffee runs.

She was distant.

And I’d been trying to figure out how to fix that. Maybe the bread pudding could be a start.

“So, what do you say?” Harper nudged. “We can head out now, which means you’ll get home earlier. Then, we can pick this back up tomorrow.”

At that moment, anything besides staring at these blueprints felt like a good idea.

So… I agreed.

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