Page 54 of Ten Day Affair
Back inside, I toss the ice from my glass into the sink and rinse it out like that’ll give me something to focus on. The house is quiet, save for the faint hum of the Dyson air purifier the designer insisted upon and the occasional shuffle of footsteps next door.
Women’s laughter filters through the open window again. Softer this time. Like they’ve sunk into the part of the night where everything loosens.
I pull off my watch and set it on the counter, resisting the urge to check the time again like it matters. It’s noteven that late, but the edge of something is still with me. Still electric under my skin.
Sam didn’t say much. But her eyes did.
And that look she gave me, just before I walked off her deck, that stuck. It lingered. Not confused, or regretful. But something tells me we aren't done pushing these lines, no matter how both of us are trying not to.
I stretch my shoulders and flip open my laptop on the dining table, more out of habit than necessity. Emails. Updates. Logistics.
Angela’s already sent the final agenda for the week, flagged the vote date, and asked if I want to see the revised property valuations before Thursday’s call. That's probably why she called to let me know she's sent it. I don't need to talk to her.
I skim the rest but barely absorb it.
Tomorrow, I’m supposed to meet them at Swifty’s. Sam didn’t say no. Arden orchestrated it. I guess time will tell if that was a bad idea. But what could go wrong with three of us?
If we can't be mature enough to keep our hands to ourselves, at least we will have a buffer.
By noon,I’ve taken six calls, rewritten two deal memos, and fielded one thinly veiled threat from a board member who thinks I don’t understand the soul of this hospital.
He’s wrong. I understand it better than he does.
My laptop camera blinks on automatically, and there’s Angela, already mid-sentence.
“—and the zoning estimates came in lower than expected,” she says, flipping through a thick folder I don’t need to see.
"You cut out for a minute. You said something about valuations."
“Oh, sorry. I said I flagged a few potential leverage points in Palm Beach County’s tax district valuations, but nothing urgent.”
I nod, dragging a hand through my hair. “Email me the full breakdown. I’ll go through it at some point.”
Angela narrows her eyes. “There aren't many changes from what I sent yesterday, but I'll highlight the edits.”
“Perfect. I'll send over any notes I have after reading.”
She smirks. “Alrighty, I think that does it.”
"Let me look through this with you on the line before you go."
I scroll through a few new messages, trying to focus, but the screen might as well be blank. The longer the silence stretches between me and Sam, the more I start to question if I imagined the shift last night.
She hasn’t texted. No confirmation. No excuse. Just silence.
I look up at her squarely. “Do I have anything after five?”
Angela’s already checking her tablet. “Not officially. I rescheduled your 6:30 with the California developer to tomorrow, as requested. Do you still want the evening blocked off?”
“Keep it open.”
She pauses. “Want me to clear it entirely?”
“Yeah.”
She taps once, then looks back at the screen. “Is this a ‘potential acquisition’ kind of night, or a ‘you might actually enjoy yourself’ kind of night?”
I glance out the window. The beach is calm, and sunlight hits the dunes just right. “Hopefully the second one.”
