I sat down. “Easy for you to say since you go home every night to your family, Bentley. As do all of you. My world changed when Max died, and I’m trying to find my feet again. Meet some new people and perhaps not be alone so much. I am not entirely comfortable with the whole idea, but at least the girls understood and tried to help, instead of acting dismissive and treating me like an old woman who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
They all had the grace to look ashamed.
Bentley shook his head. “Sandy, we don’t think that. We’re just worried.”
Aiden looked pained. “We want you to be happy, but this scares me.”
Maddox grimaced. “You never said anything.”
But it was Reid who deflated my anger and brought tears to my eyes. He leaned forward and gripped my hands.
“Come live with Becca and me, Sandy. We won’t let you be lonely anymore.”
His words and the utter sincerity with which he said them touched my heart. I smiled at them—the small cluster of men standing in front of me, looking as if they were six years old and in trouble for their antics on the playground instead of the successful, take-charge businessmen they were. Their love and concern shone out in their gazes, and the anger I had been feeling dissipated into the air.
“Thank you, Reid. It’s a lovely gesture, but not needed. Boys, I’m not doing anything rashly or without thinking. I promise. If I see a profile I’m interested in, I’ll have you check them out. All right, Aiden?”
He nodded, looking resigned.
“And I’ll be careful.”
“Have your cell phone with you,” Maddox insisted.
“Always.”
“I want to know your schedule,” Bentley stated.
I withheld my laughter. “I think that’s my job,” I teased.
“Please.”
“Fine.”
“I’m monitoring that site,” Reid muttered.
I rolled my eyes.
Aiden bent close. “I’m following you when you go. I’ll sit in the background, so I’m not noticed, but I’ll be close in case there’s trouble.”
My lips twitched. Not noticed. At 6’7”, with muscles everywhere, a vivid tattoo on his arm, and his good looks, Aiden never blended.
“We can all go,” Maddox offered.
I burst into laughter, envisioning the look on some poor man’s face when I sat across from him to have a coffee and the boys sat at the table behind me, glaring in his direction, Aiden cracking his knuckles, Reid somehow hacking in to his phone and digging into his background, while Maddox demanded financial reports, and Bentley stared him down.
How fun.
As I laughed, I met the gaze of Van Morrison, who had come in with Bentley but stayed back from my desk. He listened to the conversation, a smile playing on his lips. As he met my gaze, he gave me a thumbs-up and mouthed the words, “You go, Sandy,” before disappearing down the hall.
At least he didn’t give me a hassle, and I appreciated his silent support.
I brought my attention back to my gang of protectors.
“Good ideas. I’ll let you know. Now, back to work, boys.”
Grumbling, they disappeared into Bentley’s office, shutting the door behind them. I knew I hadn’t heard the last of this, but I wasn’t surprised by their reaction.
I looked down at my phone, weary of the constant beeps. I scanned through the profiles, knowing deep in my heart this wasn’t the right step for me.
But I wasn’t telling them that.
Not yet.
Jordan
I glanced at my desk with a deep exhale. The paperwork was astronomical these days. The busier BAM became, the busier I was. Even though Bentley had hired an extra body to help me, my desk never seemed to clear. I oversaw all paperwork on every project BAM undertook. Every permit, plan, license, contract that was required for a project, I made sure it was in place. It was a never-ending task, given the vast number of endeavors the company had on the go at any one time.
I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my tired eyes. I drained my coffee and sat back for a moment, contemplating the piles on my desk. I had come in on the weekend to catch up, but there was still a large amount of work to get done.
Not that I had anything else to keep me busy. My daughter, Gina, had recently moved, and with the absence of her and my grandkids—and my son, Warren, already on the other side of the country—life was emptier now than ever. For the first time since my wife, Anna, had passed, I was lonely. When she was alive and our kids here, we had been busy with work, each other, plus the grandkids and all their activities. When she died, my kids tried hard to keep me busy. Now that they were gone, I missed them all. My single son’s job had ended, and he had to go to where the work was, so he moved to Alberta last year. Three months ago, my daughter’s husband, Eric, had been offered a fabulous promotion, but it meant relocation. And although Gina had expressed her fears over leaving me, I had refused to be the reason they didn’t take the opportunity. I promised lots of visits, and although I spoke with her or the kids almost daily, it wasn’t the same. Life was hollower.
I had lots of free time on my hands, so I spent it in the office. There was usually someone else around, so I didn’t feel as lonely as when I was rambling around my house.
On occasion, the extra time in the office meant I got to see more of Sandy Preston as well.
The right-hand to all the partners, Sandy was an amazing woman. Close in age, we had a lot in common. She was intelligent, driven, and kind—easy to like, and I had a deep, abiding respect for her. She had been a good friend to me when Anna had passed, and when Sandy lost Max, I returned the favor—understanding the tremendous pain she felt. We had coffee together, even the occasional lunch, and we could discuss the loss of our partners freely, both of us having experienced the grieving process.
But as time went by, I began to look at her differently. I no longer saw her as the efficient, friendly coworker and/or friend I’d considered her to be all these years. The fellow grief-stricken companion. I found myself no longer wanting to talk only about Anna or to feel sad. I wanted to talk to Sandy about other things. To expand the friendship beyond loss and into living.
But I wasn’t sure she was ready for that, and if sensing that my feelings were changing, she had quietly stopped our coffee dates without even discussing it. She was still friendly and cordial in the office. Always smiling and happy to chat if I dropped by her desk or she was bringing me more paperwork, but there was a line there. Because of my respect for her, it was a line I didn’t cross.
She was too good a friend to lose. I hoped if I was patient enough, one day she would be ready to move on. And when she was, I would be ready.
Yet, seeing her everyday caused an odd ache in my chest that never fully went away.
I shook my head at my strange thoughts and pushed my glasses back up on my face. I picked up my pen, ready to attack the next set of paperwork when Van Morrison, our resident genius of the hammer, strolled in. He unloaded a huge pile of tools in the corner, then made me frown as he shut the door to the hall and sat at his desk.
Van never shut the door unless there was a problem.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He scrubbed his face and regarded me seriously. “I know we don’t get overly personal here, Jordan, but Liv told me something last night, and I’ve been thinking it over all day.”