Chapter 409
Mia’s POV
The coffee had gone cold two hours ago. I picked up the cup anyway.
Camille sat across from me at the conference table, her laptop open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Waiting.
“The structural engineer confirmed the foundation work?” I asked.
“Tuesday. He’ll be on-site at seven p>
“And the permits p>
“Filed yesterday. Should clear by Friday p>
I nodded. Made a note on the blueprint spread across the table.
The lines blurred.
Just slightly. Like someone had smudged them.
I blinked. Hard. Once. Twice.
The lines came back into focus.
My hand moved across the paper. The pencil felt wrong. Too light. Or maybe my hand was too heavy.
“Mia p>
I looked up. Camille’s face had that soft edge around it. That halo you get when you’ve been staring at blueprints too long and your eyes don’t remember how to see regular things anymore.
I blinked again. The halo disappeared.
“What?” I asked.
She was watching me. “How many hours did you work yesterday p>
“I don’t know. Normal amount.
“Mia, I saw your car in the parking lot when I left at eleven PM. And it was still there when I came in this morning at seven p>
I looked back down at the blueprints. I didn’t answer.
“You’re seeing double p>
My head snapped up. “I’m not p>
“I’ve been watching you for the last ten minutes. You keep blinking. Hard. Like you’re trying to clear something from your vision p>
Shit.
“I am okay, Camile.” I said. The blueprints looked back at me. Clean lines. Precise measurements. Every wall where it should be. Every window placed for maximum light.
I erased a line. Redrew it half an inch to the left.
“The HVAC contractor needs an answer about the ductwork,” Camille said. “Today p>
“Tell him to go with the split system. More expensive but better airflow p>
She typed. “Done. And the interior designer wants to know about finishes. She’s asking for mood boards by Monday p>
“I’ll have them ready p>
“Mia p>
I looked up.
Camille’s face was tight.
“What p>
“Nothing. I just-” She stopped. Started again. “I…You’ve been working like this for two weeks. Sixteen-hour days. Sometimes more. I’m just worried p>
“I’m fine p>
“Mia p>
“I’m fine.” I looked at her. Met her eyes. “I just want this house gets finished on schedule p>
She nodded. Didn’t look convinced but didn’t push.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard. Typing something. Probably notes about the contractors.
I watched her for a moment. “Camille p>
She looked up.
“After this project wraps,” I said. “Everyone gets two weeks off. Paid p>
She blinked. “What p>
“Two weeks. Full pay. Everyone in the studio. Including you and me p>
“Mia, that’s-” She stopped. “That’s a lot of money p>
“I know p>
“Are you sure p>
“Yes.” I leaned back in my chair. “Everyone’s been working insane hours. You. The junior architects. Even the interns. We all need a break p>
Her face did something. Softened. “Thank you p>
“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to send the email p>
She smiled. Actually smiled. “I’ll do it right now p>
Her fingers moved across the keyboard. Fast. Efficient.
Then her laptop pinged.
Then again.
And again.
“They’re fast,” I observed.
She turned the screen toward me. “They’re excited p>
I read the messages. Short bursts of enthusiasm.
Thank you p>
Finally p>
Mia you’re the best!
One of the interns-Jake, I think his name was-had sent three exclamation points and a gif of someone doing a cartwheel.
“He’s very enthusiastic,” Camille said.
“Apparently p>
My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen.
Mom: Don’t forget the wedding starts at 3. Kids need to be ready by 2:30.
I looked at my watch. 1:47 PM.
“Shit p>
“What p>
“Wedding. Today. I have to-” I started gathering the blueprints, rolling them carefully, securing them with rubber bands.
Camille stood. “I’ll handle the contractor calls. You go p>
“The mood boards p>
“Monday, Mia. Not today. Go p>
I nodded. Grabbed my bag. Headed for the door.
“Mia p>
I turned back.
The apartment smelled like hairspray and chaos.
I pushed open the door to find my mother in the middle of the living room, one hand holding a can of spray, other attempting to smooth down Madison’s hair.
“Hold still, sweetheart p>
the
“It’s too sticky,” Madison said. Her face was scrunched up.
“It has to be sticky or it won’t hold p>
Alexander appeared from the hallway wearing his dress pants and a t-shirt with a dinosaur on it.
“Mama!” He launched himself at me. “You’re home! Guess what p>
“What p>
“The person getting married today is named Alexander too!” His face was bright. “Just like me p>
“That’s right,” I said. “Morton’s brother p>
“Is he my age p>
“No, buddy. He’s a grown-up Alexander p>
“Oh.” He processed this. “But we have the same name. That’s still cool. Right p>
“Very cool p>
“Do you think he likes dinosaurs p>
“I don’t know p>
“He should. Alexander is a good name for someone who likes dinosaurs.” He held up his clip-on tie. “Look! I can tie my own tie now p>
“That’s not tying,” Ethan said from the couch. He was already fully dressed. Pants pressed. Shirt tucked. Hair combed. “That’s clipping p>
“It’s still a tie p>
“But you didn’t tie it. Someone at the factory tied it. You just attached it p>
“So? It’s on my neck. That’s what matters.
“The skill is in the tying, not the wearing p>
Alexander’s face scrunched up. “You’re being annoying p>
“I’m being accurate p>
“Accurate is annoying p>
“Maybe the other Alexander will teach me how to tie a real tie,” Alexander said. “Since we have the same name. That’s what Alexanders do. We help each other p>
“That’s not how names work,” Ethan said.
“How do you know? You’re not named Alexander p>
“I know because that’s not logical p>
“You’re not logical p>
“Boys,” my mother said without looking at them. “Not now p>