I get a soft smile in return. “That’s because you don’t fit kids into your life, Piper. You fit your life around them.”

“How, though?” I push my food around on my plate with my fork. “How do I fit building a twenty-five-story condominium complex around soccer practice and school bake sales?”

“I don’t know. A supportive spouse? A nanny? Good employees?”

“Like Tripp?”

Kyle shakes his head but chuckles. “I want to knock his teeth out every time I see him. You need to get rid of him now.”

I groan. “I’m still waiting on that damn report from the phone company, and who knows if that’ll give me anything. I don’t want to talk about Tripp right now, though. But my dad . . . I think of how hard he’s worked all his life and how hard I work now, and I just don’t see how I can manage kids. As it is, I feel like a kid playing dress-up at an adult party most days. Like I don’t belong in this world.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I’ve always been afraid that someone will agree with me, that saying the words out loud will make them true.

“Security guards hear and see a lot more than people give them credit for.” Kyle leans back against one of the armchairs. “Do you know what I see when I’m in that building?”

“Old men staring at my ass?”

“Yeah, not gonna lie—I want to punch a lot of your employees out.” We share a laugh and then Kyle’s expression turns serious. “But it doesn’t happen as often as you think. More than that, I see people sitting up straight when you enter a room; I see their eyes glued to you when you speak. When I hear your name floating around, it’s said with respect.” He smirks. “Sometimes with a bit of fear.” He pushes a strand of hair off my face. “And I see a woman who has I don’t even want to know how much money to burn, busting her ass all day and coming home exhausted at night to the penthouse condo that she’s welcomed her camp friends to live in rent-free, and having conversations about kids with new assistants, and stopping to greet the old security guard at the front desk when everyone else is too busy to look up. Do you know how happy that makes Gus?”

“I’ve known him all my life, is all.”

“No, it’s because you’re still you. You’re still the same kind, generous, down-to-earth girl from Wawa who cares about people no matter where they fit. Hell, you could be sailing around in a yacht, or drinking fucking lattes in a courtyard in Paris or whatever it is you rich people do, and yet here you are, working hard doing something that’s important to you, trying to please your father, with bags under your eyes, eating takeout on a Friday night.”

“You saying I look like hell?” I tease, cutting off a sliver of the chicken enchilada.

“No, I’m saying I know you. I might not know everything you want in life, and everything that’s happened to you over the past thirteen years, but you’re still the same person in here.” His hand settles on my chest, over my heart. “The rest . . . we can figure out along the way.”

I nod, the confidence in his words a balm to my earlier panic. Panic that arose, I realize, because I want this—us—to work out so badly.

“So . . .” Kyle’s hand falls away. “We both want kids eventually. Sounds like we’re okay on that front.”

I smile, feeling foolish for how I ambushed him with the topic. Though he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. “Sounds like it.”

He taps my plate, prompting me to eat. “What else are you worried about?”

“I don’t even know. Is there, like, a checklist we should go through? I mean . . . Religious beliefs?” I throw out.

“Love is love.” He presses a hand to his chest. “Tom and Doyle forever.”

I laugh, recalling the shy and secretive counselors. “Politics?”

“I did not vote for him.”

“Same. Uh . . .” Worry laced my mood all day, but now that I’m here, talking to Kyle, I realize that I have nothing to worry about. He’s right. I know Kyle. “All-inclusive beach resort or tours? Which would you prefer?”

He frowns. “Really? That’s a relationship deal breaker?”

“It is if you expect to drag me around smelly, hot cities on all-day bus tours with strangers as a vacation.”

Kyle’s head falls back onto the chair, the jut of his throat looking especially delicious at that angle. “Well then, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say option A. What else is there? Come on, ask. We’ve got all night.”

“All weekend.”

His head flops to the side. “I get you all weekend?”

“If you’re good.”

I get a cocky grin in return, his eyes alight with mischief. “When have I ever not been?”

“We’re recommending that we go with KDZ for the Marquee,” Serge says as the last slide of the thirty-minute PowerPoint pops up on the screen, stating exactly that. “The financials are competitive, KDZ’s timeline works better with ours, and their record with condo conversions may be short, but it’s solid.” Three other heads bob along with him.

After combing through and analyzing both construction proposals, the Marquee’s project development team of experts is giving their official stamp of approval.

And it’s not for the one I want.

I grit my teeth, feeling my father’s heavy gaze settle on me.

“Good work, guys. I agree wholeheartedly. Thank you.” Tripp smiles and nods, dismissing them.

Serge and the team quietly file out, to give the executive team a chance to discuss this decision.

Tripp adjusts his tie and flashes a smug smile my way before turning to my father. “Kieran, are we finally ready to lock on this and move forward?”

My father sizes up the screen ahead, his eyes narrow and calculating. I can practically hear his thoughts. KDZ is the proposal to go with. If not for Tripp and what Kyle told me, I would be leaning toward them, too. Not that Jameson hasn’t come in strong. But it’s as if KDZ prepared their proposal while sitting inside the walls of Calloway, hitting all our pressure points.

They probably did. From inside the walls of Tripp’s office. Hell, Tripp might have written this proposal himself.

I know my father. He’s weighing all this against a “rumor” that Tripp is taking a kickback, while I haven’t found any solid proof yet because the phone company is taking their sweet time delivering what I asked for. Maybe he’s deciding if he even cares, because at the end of the day, the contract is good for business.

But I just can’t stomach letting Tripp win.

“Piper? What are your thoughts?”

My father catches me off guard. That he would defer to me in a meeting is a step forward. For once, though, I wish he’d leave me the hell out of the decision. “I think KDZ looks good on paper and we can come to a decision within a few days.”

Tripp throws his hands up in the air. “In case you’ve forgotten, Piper, we’re behind schedule.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” I snap back. You’re the smug bastard who put us there.

“I agree with Piper,” David chimes in. “We have the recommendation. Let’s review, discuss offline, and make a decision by tomorrow.” He throws me a wink.