Never Let Me Go

by Kianna Alexander

  “I’m certain there won’t be enough space for parking unless we do one of two things.” Maxwell took another long sip of coffee, then set the mug down on the desk. “We can either build a parking deck, which I doubt is in the budget, or we can alter the footprint of the main building, leaving more space in the available parcel for parking.”

  Carson frowned. “Is there a good way to do that?”

  Turning toward the window, Maxwell looked out at the cloudless blue sky, thinking.

  As had been the case whenever he allowed his mind to wander lately, his thoughts strayed to Yvonne. She’d moved in this morning, or at least he assumed so. He’d left for the office early this morning and had only interacted with her in passing. She’d been carrying only her purse and a single duffel bag. From what he knew about women, she would probably need a lot more than that to keep her for a whole five days.

  I guess she went back to the car to get the rest of her things after I left. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to work, he would have offered to help her move her stuff. He recalled how she’d looked, waving to him from the front door, that beautiful smile lighting up his day before it had even begun. I wonder how she and Sasha are doing.

  “I feel like this is going to take some serious reconfiguring, Mr. D.”

  Carson’s voice cut through Maxwell’s thoughts, reminding him of the conundrum at hand. A few moments later, he turned back toward the drafting table with a snap of his fingers. “Carson, what about this. If we put the two multipurpose rooms and some restrooms in the basement, then the other spaces on the ground level, I think we can tweak the footprint just enough to do the trick.”

  Standing, Carson closed the folio and held it in one hand as he eased closer to the plans. “We might have to trim a bit off the lobby entrance here, but I think that might work.”

  “We can trim a few feet from the lobby as long as we leave the display alcoves intact. The city wants to use them to display items of significance to the town’s history, and we can’t remove them.” The mayor and her team had left a lot of things up to the architects and designers bidding for the project, but the display alcoves had been one of the few specific requests written into the bid request document. “We’ll keep the first version on hand just in case the city gives us a little wiggle room in the budget for a parking deck.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m going to have to go back to the software and tweak the dimensions and shape of the building.” Maxwell released the draft plans from the metal clips anchoring them to the drafting table. “It’ll take some time, but if my instincts are right, it will be a vast improvement on what we have now, on several levels.”

  “Now, what should I put in the section about building materials?”

  “I’m using eighty percent green materials. I’ve got a source for some really great reclaimed wood that we’ll use for some of the interior finishes. Everything else will be sustainably sourced, recycled, or otherwise environmentally responsible.”

  “Sounds pretty awesome.” Carson smiled, then strode toward the door to the outer office. “I’ll get to work on revising the proposal document. Need anything else from me right now?”

  Maxwell shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  After Carson left, Maxwell sat behind his desk and booted up his computer. As he waited for his design software to load the most recent version of the plans, his phone buzzed against his hip. Slipping it from his pocket, he swiped the screen to answer the call. “Maxwell Devers.”

  “Good morning, Maxwell. How are your plans coming along?”

  Oh, brother. It’s Carmichael. Rolling his eyes, he stated dryly, “Just fine. Yours?”

  “Excellent. Things are going great over here.”

  “Is there something you want, Harold?”

  Harold sounded annoyed. “Here I am trying to do you a favor, and you’re snapping at me. Anyway, I thought you should know that the deadline for the civic center proposals has been moved up.”

  Maxwell felt his brow furrow. I don’t trust this guy any farther than I can throw him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I just found out about an hour ago.” Harold yawned. “I’m just passing the word along in case you weren’t aware. It seems I was correct in assuming you didn’t know.”

  Maxwell supposed it could be true, but thinking about his past interactions with Harold didn’t instill any confidence in the man’s word. “And you’re telling me this why? I would have thought you’d take any opportunity to get a leg up on me.”

  Harold scoffed. “Oh, please. I don’t need to resort to childish tricks, Maxwell. I’ll simply win the bidding based on my superior design skills.”

  That was debatable. But Maxwell didn’t have the time or desire to engage Harold in some sort of professional pissing contest. He blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll take your word. Thanks for the heads-up, and you have yourself a good day.” Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the call, eager to end the unpleasantness.

  Placing his phone on the desk, he minimized his design software long enough to scan through his email. To his chagrin, Harold had been telling the truth. The city’s special project administrator had indeed sent out a message, and the subject line indicated the change in the deadline.

  Placing his open palm against the back of his neck, Maxwell called out to his intern. “Carson? Come here, please.”

  A moment later, the younger man appeared in the doorway. “Need something, Mr. D?”

  “Looks like the deadline has been moved up for submitting our proposals.”

  Carson’s lips thinned and opened, revealing his teeth in a half smile. “So…how long have we got?”

  “The rest of this week is it.”

  “Ouch.” Carson passed a hand through his short brown hair. “Think we can swing it?”

  Maxwell shrugged. “We don’t have a choice. I’m not about to throw in the towel now.” I’m not going to give that beady-eyed Harold Carmichael the satisfaction. He’d entered this field driven by his passion for design, determined to change the world one project at a time. He wasn’t about to let a minor setback stop him from pursuing this project. Even if Harold weren’t in the running, he would want to be the one to design the civic center. It was rare for an architect of color to be hired for a project of this size, and he hoped to set a precedent that would help make the road a little easier for those who’d come into the field after him.

  No, this isn’t about competition. This is about widening the road.

  “So I’m guessing if I don’t finish up the proposal before I leave today, it’s homework, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Cool. I’ll keep at it.” Carson disappeared again.

  Maxwell sank the rest of his day into making the two versions of the draft plans: one with the parking deck and one without. Dimensions were adjusted, angles corrected, placements retooled. He ordered in for lunch and barely left his desk the whole day. At five thirty, he finally shut down the computer. Rubbing his screen-weary eyes, he stood and stretched in an attempt to release some of the kinks that had formed in his neck, back, and shoulders. Gathering his things, he walked out of the office.

  “Done for the day?” Carson didn’t look up from his own computer as he asked the question.

  “Yes. My eyes are starting to cross.” Maxwell didn’t say it aloud, but there was a part of him that missed his daughter and was eager to get home to her. Other parts were missing Yvonne’s smile and warmth as well, but he tamped that down as best he could.

  “I’ll probably be out in about twenty minutes. I’m just about done here.”

  “Mary Alice gone?”

  Carson nodded. “She left at five on the dot.”

  Maxwell chuckled. She always did that, but since she was efficient at her job, he didn’t make a fuss. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Carso
n.”

  “Later, Mr. D.”

  Car keys in hand, Maxwell turned and left.

  * * *

  “Here is big B. Here is little b. What words begin with the letter b?” Yvonne stifled a yawn as she flipped to the next page of the board book. The soft cushions of the sofa cradling her body seemed to exhort her to take a nap. It was late Wednesday evening, and the baby had kept her busy all day. While she was tired, a nap was out of the question at the moment. “B is for ball, box, and bumblebee.” She pointed to each picture in turn.

  Sasha, seated on her lap, placed her palm over the page. “Babababa.”

  She nodded. “That’s good, Sasha. You can make the B sound.”

  Grasping the edge of the book with her tiny fingers, Sasha pulled it from Yvonne’s hand and began gnawing on the edge of the page.

  Knowing better than to wrest it away from her, Yvonne simply smiled. “I think I need to get up and get my blood flowing. You want down?”

  “Babababa.” Big, sparkling brown eyes looked back at her.

  “Okay.” Standing, she placed the baby on the blanket spread out on the floor. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched, bouncing on the balls of her feet to reawaken her circulation.

  The front door swung open then. “I’m home.”

  Hearing his voice ring out through the lower level of the house made her heart skip a beat. “Welcome home,” she called back.

  Maxwell entered the room a few moments later. As he strode over to the baby, he asked, “Should she be eating that?”

  She looked down at Sasha, who lay on her back, still contentedly mouthing the book. “It’s no big deal. Babies explore with their mouths. That’s why board books exist—to fill the need for reading material that can stand up to large quantities of drool.”

  He chuckled. “It’s been a long day, but honestly, that cheesy joke has improved it.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  He stooped, scooping Sasha up into his arms. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you put Ms. Yvonne to work today?” The baby formed a small O with her lips and leaned toward him. He kissed her small forehead, and part of Yvonne’s heart melted at their interaction.

  “She sure did. She’s very active, and her crawling has improved immensely.” She ran a hand over Sasha’s curly head. “She moves pretty fast now, way faster than you’d think.”

  Maxwell bounced Sasha against his shoulder. “I’m gonna guess you can’t just put her in the crib.”

  She shook her head. “Not until she’s already asleep. She’s very active, which is common for babies her age. And when she’s awake, it’s better for her development if she’s allowed some freedom to explore her environment.”

  “I get it.” He moved to the couch and sat down with his daughter in his lap. “I don’t smell any food. Did Tilda come in today?”

  “No. Her son called the house, though. He took Tilda to urgent care this morning.”

  He frowned. “Is she okay?”

  “I haven’t heard back from him. She twisted her ankle, and it may be a sprain.”

  He rubbed his chin while keeping his other arm wrapped securely around the baby. “I’m sure she’ll call and let me know what’s going on.” Glancing toward the kitchen, then back to her, he asked, “What did you eat?”

  She shrugged. “I managed. The refrigerator is well stocked. I scrambled myself some eggs this morning and had a sandwich for lunch.”

  Tilting his head, he studied her. “Do you cook?”

  “I do. Is that something you want to add to my duties?”

  He shook his head. “No. Your job is looking after Sasha.”

  “I don’t mind doing it. I’ll tell you what. If Tilda has to be out for a while, I’ll do the cooking, just until she comes back.”

  “Thanks. That would be helpful.” He paused, looking down at Sasha’s face. “Has she had her dinner? She looks a little sleepy.”

  Watching the way the baby snuggled down into her father’s arms brought a smile to Yvonne’s face. “She ate about a half hour ago. Strained peas, turkey, and a sippy cup of formula.”

  His stomach growled loudly. “Boy. That sounds pretty good right now.”

  “I could go whip something up.”

  He shook his head. “No. You look just as tired as I feel.”

  She didn’t know how to take that, so she took it at face value. “It’s been a long day for both of us, I guess.”

  “I’ve got an idea. There’s a little family-owned Mexican restaurant about twenty minutes away. Nice folks, quiet atmosphere, and great food. Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten any, though.”

  “Then let’s go there for dinner, my treat. Sasha’s half asleep, and I’m sure the car ride over there will finish the job.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it without answering. She wanted to say yes, not just because of her empty stomach but because she enjoyed spending time with him. She hadn’t seen very much of him since her first day of work when they’d been busy adjusting to their new roles in each other’s lives. True, it was the nature of a nanny’s job to spend most of their time with their charge and very little with the parents. Still, she worried it might be inappropriate to agree so quickly. She grasped at the first available excuse she could conjure. “It sounds nice, but I don’t have anything nice to wear.”

  “You look lovely. There’s no need to change.”

  She felt the familiar warmth rising into her cheeks. “A moment ago, you said I looked tired.”

  “That doesn’t take away from your beauty, Yvonne.” He stated it as fact, gave her a crooked half smile. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Yvonne. There are no strings attached. It’s just a casual, friendly dinner.”

  What harm can come of it? We’ll have the baby with us, so there’s only so much trouble I can get myself into. “Okay. Let me get a warm blanket for Sasha and her baby bag, and we can go.”

  “Great.” He stood, placing Sasha on his shoulder as she fought a losing battle to keep her eyes open.

  Within a half hour, they were tucked away in a booth at Fuego y Hielo. A wooden stand placed next to the table held Sasha’s car seat, and the baby slept soundly inside.

  Looking over the menu, Yvonne commented, “I think I’ll have a chimichanga. I haven’t had one in ages.” She thought about her doctor’s admonitions that she should control her portions to counteract her hereditary predisposition to type 2 diabetes. “Wait. About how big are the ones they serve here?”

  He made a gesture with his large hands, showing her they were roughly the size of a medium cucumber. “Not so terribly big. You get a lot of rice and beans on the side, though.”

  After they’d ordered and received their food, she leaned forward in her seat. “What happened at work today?”

  He sighed. “We made good progress on the civic center plans and the proposal that goes along with it. Unfortunately, the deadline for bids to be submitted has been moved up. We only have until Monday to get it together.”

  She frowned. “Is that going to be enough time?”

  “Probably. But every other project we have in the hopper has to be put aside for us to meet this new deadline.” He took a sip of iced tea from his glass. “I actually found out from one of my competitors. I thought he was lying, but when I checked my email, I saw that he was telling the truth.”

  “Hopefully, things will go according to plan.”

  He set down his fork, watching her intently. “It’s very fortunate that you offered to do this live-in thing. I’m going to be working late the rest of the week or at least until we can finish up this project bid.”

  “As I said, I wanted to make things easier for you. I’m just glad I could help.”

  He held her gaze. “Is that the only reason you offered this arrangement, Y
vonne?”

  She felt her breath stack up in her throat. Is he…asking what I think he’s asking? She wasn’t going to lie to him; it just wasn’t something she did. “It was my primary reason, yes.”

  “And your other reason?”

  He seemed to be baiting her, and she was tempted to bite. She swallowed, then reached for her water glass to quench her dry throat. Unfortunately, she was left with only ice in the glass. Raising her hand, she gestured a waitress over to the table.

  “Water, ma’am?” The young woman filled her water glass from the clear pitcher she carried. “By the way, you two are such a sweet couple.”

  After the waitress moved away from the table, Yvonne turned her gaze to Maxwell, who wore a ghost of a smile.

  “I was going to ask you a question, but I think the waitress might have answered it for me.”

  She swallowed again. “Maxwell, I…don’t know what to say.”

  He shrugged. “Just be honest, Yvonne. You’re a very attractive woman, and I can admit how alluring I find you.” He leaned back against the padded seat of the bench. “I’d wager you already know how I feel. It seems like you’ve been able to read me from the first moment you walked into my office.”

  She dropped her gaze, studying her own reflection in the glazed tabletop. Of course she’d noticed it. The way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way he smiled when he saw her. That old familiar heat was returning to her face again, and she knew it wasn’t brought on by the jalapeños.

  “I’m being honest with you because I respect you.” He rubbed his hands together, then placed them palms up on the table. “Let me lay it out. I think you’re attracted to me, too. But you need to know that I’ll never push or pressure you in any way. Our association can remain just as it is, nanny and client, if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s not what I want.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Ugh. Why did I say that aloud?

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But the depth of this relationship is up to you. And your position will never be in danger, whatever you decide. I’ve seen the way you care for my daughter. I’d be hard pressed to find anyone else like you.”