Page 71 of My Only

“Oh, y’all ordered food?” Levi asked, picking up a white carton of takeout from the takeout bag on my desk.

Before I could answer, Harper reached out, smoothly plucking it from his hand.

“I ordered for Hassani and me,” she said lightly.

Levi’s brows lifted slightly before he glanced at me.

I mouthed, nah, and discreetly shook my head, subtly letting him know that wasn’t true.

Harper had asked if she should order food earlier. I told her not to bother. I wasn’t planning to stay late. I was already late for Ayla’s work mixer, and I had no intention of hanging around eating Chinese takeout.

“Guys,” I said, glancing between Levi and Harper. “I’ll send over the final adjustments in the morning. Implementation needs to be immediate on this.”

“Got you,” Levi confirmed. “I’m heading out.”

“Get home safe,” I told him.

Levi nodded and walked off. The second he was gone, Harper leaned in, her voice dipping into something almost too familiar.

“Look at you,” she mused. “Always solving problems. Always under pressure.” She gestured at the takeout cartons. “Sure you don’t want to take a breather? Celebrate another crisis averted?”

I reached for my phone, clicking the side button. The screen lit up with Ayla’s reply to my earlier text.

Ayla: Ok.

Just that. No more.

I sucked my teeth and shook my head. “Nah, I’m heading out.”

Harper’s frown was quick, barely there before she fixed it into a sweet smile. “Bummer.”

I stood, grabbing my laptop bag. “Have a good night, Harper. See you in the morning.”

As I made my way toward the elevators, passing the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city’s glow, I couldn’t shake my irritation.

This shouldn’t have kept me late. The problem could have been caught earlier—should have been caught earlier—but Harper conveniently brought it to my attention just as I was heading out.

And the timing? Yeah, that was suspect.

The moment she flagged it as urgent, I had no choice but to stay.

“Should we order something?” she asked as the night stretched on.

I barely glanced up from my tablet.

“I can order something,” she added. “I’ll order something.”

I waved her off, too focused on fixing the flawed layout to think about food. The project was on a tight timeline. Bryant wanted residents moving in by a set date, and a problem as small as a flawed floor plan could slow everything down.

Harper didn’t have to stay, but she insisted. She kept talking, filling the silence, while I barely engaged. I was too locked in, too determined to make things right.

Because this was the biggest project of my career.

I couldn’t afford to be bad at this. Not even once.

So I canceled on my wife when I really didn’t want to.

At some point, I took a short break and picked up my phone.

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