Found

by Claudia Burgoa

  “We are what we are, Hazel.” He glanced at me for a second and went back to his screen. “Oahu or the Gold Coast?”

  “This is it, right?” the hairs on the nape of my neck stiffened.

  I felt light-headed. After nineteen months, I was about to tackle the one thing I feared for so long. Our relationship. I wanted a title, a solid foundation—more.

  His nostrils flared. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you, Bee. But can we concentrate on our next trip?”

  “What if I ask you to move in with me?” I crossed my arms.

  “Move in?” He stiffened, narrowing his gaze. “You live with your grandfather.”

  “We can buy an apartment, rent a penthouse…” I proposed.

  He exhaled sharply. “And then what, Hazel.”

  “Then…” I swallowed, slowly staring at him.

  We would marry and have children, I wanted to say but the words remained on the tip of my tongue.

  “What are we doing, Scott?” I pointed at him and then at me.

  “We’re having fun, Hazel,” he answered as a matter of fact.

  “Well, yeah it’s fun. But I want more than fun,” I said, rushing my speech so I wouldn’t lose the courage to confront him. “I want everything. Love, a house, children, even a dog. A happy ending, a fairy tale…the perfect romance.”

  His eyes remained on me, but he didn’t speak for a long time. I felt like my airways were closing by the second. I could feel it in my bones—the rejection.

  “Do you think it’s possible?” He shot the question, like an arrow aiming for my heart. “I’m happy the way things are between us. I can’t see this going any further. Not…”

  Not with you, he didn’t finish the phrase.

  “So how long are we going to keep doing this?”

  He leaned backward, crossing his arms. “For as long as you want.”

  “But if I want more from you?”

  “There can’t be more.”

  “It’s my choice then,” I stated, holding my breath as I fought biting nausea.

  For the first time in more than a year, the crippling fear of losing myself and my heart took over my mind. The fight between reason and love didn’t last long. I had been in that place. The one where I end up alone because I’m not enough.

  “Oahu,” I responded. “We should travel to Hawaii. But only if you can offer me what I want.”

  He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed a few times. Once he opened them, he looked at me.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I challenged him without sounding desperate. “You had bad luck, but I’m not like the women you’ve dated.”

  “Hazel, you and I can’t be more. With time, you’ll understand me.”

  I still don’t understand why we couldn’t be more, or why he’s here trying to prove himself.

  “I’m hurt,” Fitz insists, touching his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Fitzy.”

  “I …” My chest is tight, the words are not coming out right. I hate that I hurt him. “I kept saying I would come clean but, you know Scott.”

  “Yes, I know my brother. I know you too.” He scratched under his collar. “I had this theory that the sun and the moon might love each other, that doesn’t mean they can be together.”

  “I know.” I bite my lip. “They will never be together.”

  My stomach drops to the floor. The imaginary airplane I boarded has lost control.

  “You hid something important from me. As I said, I’m hurt.”

  “If I told you I could’ve jinxed it.” I shrug.

  I grasp the railing. “I wasn’t ready for reality to hit or for it to be over. If I had told you, you’d have been the voice of reason.”

  “You would’ve made me see the truth. That he’s not the one for me,” I swallow the golf ball blocking my throat. “That he’d never be willing to be a part of that happy ending I want so badly.”

  He nods, giving me that charming Everhart grin. “That’s why you should’ve come to me. Things might’ve turned out different. You both let your fear take over your heart, and now you’re hurting.”

  “Right, because it would have been one time and I wouldn’t have confused that with more. Do you think he…?”

  He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Heterosexuals, you’re so damn complicated.”

  Fitz opens his mouth, then shuts it shaking his head. “Figure out your shit. Then, we can talk about my brother. He’s Mr. Ironman for a reason, not just because he woke up one day and decided to become an asshole.” Then he smiles. “But with you, he’s different. I can’t believe I never saw that until now. He fucked up, and that’s on him.”

  My phone buzzes, I pull it out of my purse and Elliot’s name flashes.

  “However,” Fitz adds, eyeing my phone. “McFee is waltzing back into your life.”

  “That’s not the point,” I argue.

  “Isn’t it?” He asks in a gruff voice. “Maybe McFee has more power over you than you want to accept. Scott doesn’t deserve to be disregarded because the asshole you love is back.”

  “You’re twisting the story,” I counter.

  “Am I?” He responds with that lawyery smile I hate. “Or I’m hitting the right nail?”

  “You’re badgering the witness,” I say, my words coming out like raging darts. “Do you have any idea what’s going on inside my head?”

  I pull my shoulders back as I glare at him. “Is this a new way to get the full story?”

  My stomach rolls, because I know him too well. Yet, this time I’m lost in his game. “You’re bluffing because you don’t have enough evidence to close your case.”

  He angles his head, giving me a wicked smile. He’s winning. “Yet, I know enough to torment you for lying to me. What’s it gonna be, Hazel Beesley? The handsome tortured Scott Everhart, or your childhood sweetheart, Elliot McFee.”

  My lungs collapse at that scenario. “If things with Scott don’t work…?” I fire the question because what scares me the most is losing my family—the Everhart boys.

  I watch Fitz guarding himself, protecting his big brother. They might fight often, but the four become a unit when one is hurting. I feel a pang knowing if they must choose between us, the choice is Scott and the loneliness is back.

  “You’re my girl,” Fitz responds, softening his voice. “Things will never change between us no matter how they end up with Scott.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing, you’re in a free country where you get to choose and love whoever you want,” he says. “Thank fucking god, or I’d be living in Canada.”

  My phone buzzes. It’s an email from Scott.

  To: E. McFee

  From: Scott Everhart

  Cc: Hazel Beesley-McFee

  Subject: Waterfront Restoration Contract

  Dear Mr. McFee,

  As I stated in my voicemail, your company won both contacts. Please, call our offices to set an appointment at your earliest convenience. Our lawyers will email the contracts for your review. Congratulations. We look forward to working with you.

  S. Everhart

  “Scott gave the contract to North Bay?” I frown, reading the email three more times.

  “Yeah,” Fitz snorts. “He’s not happy about it, but he always puts his personal issues aside. That company is the one that makes the most sense.”

  My phone buzzes again. A notification pops from my schedule, I open it, and it’s a meeting at eleven with Elliot. Well, he works fast. Then, there’s an email from him.

  — —

  To: Scott Everhart, Hazel Beesley-McFee

  From: E. McFee

  Subject: Contract

  I’ll have my lawyers go through the contract as soon as we receive them.

  Best,

  Elliot Mc Fee

  — —

  To: E. McFee

  From: Hazel Beesley-McFee

  Cc: Scott Everhart

  Subjec
t: Congratulations

  Elliot,

  Congratulations on being awarded both contracts. I received confirmation from my assistant, you'll be at the office at 11:00 am. I’ll see you then.

  Regards,

  Hazel

  — —

  To: Hazel Beesley-McFee

  From: E. McFee

  Cc: Scott Everhart

  Re: Arrangements

  Can we have lunch after the meeting?

  E.

  I lift my gaze from my phone when I see an email from Fitz popping in my inbox. But he doesn’t have any electronics handy.

  “Did you send this email earlier?” I scratch my temple. “Or do you have new superpowers?”

  “I preschedule most of my emails,” he responds. “I’ve been working since five in the freaking morning, as the mighty asshole requested.” Fitz rolls his eyes.

  “I thought you said he got drunk,” I remind him.

  “Slightly, which means that he talked,” he informs me with a stupid smirk stamped on his face. “Scott told me everything. Then, he went to the gym, took a shower and worked. He might not be in a good mood.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re not going to the office today, are you?”

  “Perhaps in the afternoon, when he’s a little less…edgy.”

  Well, I will have lunch with McFee.

  To: E. McFee

  From: F. Everhart

  Cc: Hazel, Scott Everhart

  Subject: Contracts

  Mr. Mc Fee,

  Congratulations on being awarded the Waterfront Management contracts. I’m attaching the drafts for your review. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate in contacting me.

  Regards,

  F. Everhart

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Do not make every problem a war.” — Christopher Everhart

  Elliot

  I take a deep breath closing my eyes for a few seconds. My day went from fucking thrilled to fucking chaos. We won the Waterfront contract. Kyle and I had an early conference call with our lawyer after I drove southeast of the city to check on the Hunter’s Point property. The material we received is defective. I had to switch the schedule and have my employees work on the roof instead of the floors this week. Then drove to Forest Hill to talk to my supervisor about the new development where I received the news that my engineer broke his leg. The drive to the financial district is longer than usual. There’s a car accident right before 4th St.

  To top off the day, I have to deal with the contracts of Waterfront. My management agreement is standard, but Scott Everhart is a fucking pain in the ass. He wants to change it with clauses that make no sense. Like sending a daily, detailed report with every task done to his buildings—detailed.

  He requested we report every emergency call as we received them, and when our technicians have completed their job. The fucker wants to micromanage us. I tried to call Hazel, but she wasn't available. Fitzhenry Everhart didn’t respond to my emails nor my phone calls.

  “Good morning, Mr. McFee. I was told to take you to Ms. Beesley’s office.” The receptionist rises from her seat and walks in front of me. She swings the glass door, holding it as I step inside. “She should be with you momentarily. Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  I study Hazel’s office. It’s trendy, cold. It doesn’t feel like her. To be fair, I can’t still think of her as a businesswoman. As I walk closer to look at the frames on her desk, I hear her voice. “Elliot, you arrived just in time.”

  My breath hitches when I see her. She wears a burgundy mini-dress and a pair of high heel sandals. Her hair tied into a loose braid that lays on the side of her shoulder.

  “Please, sit down,” she instructs.

  “Everything okay?”

  She shakes her head slightly, opening her computer. “It’s been a hectic day. My assistant said you called a couple of times.”

  “Yeah, I wanted to discuss my management contract. It’s standard. We don’t accept the changes that your people sent. I’m not giving him a daily update.”

  “Him?” She raises an eyebrow, angling her head and attention toward the door.

  “Scott Everhart.”

  Her attention finally moves toward me. “You’re kidding?” Her tone is harsh. “Scott has nothing to do with the request. In fact, Scott’s an advisor but he doesn’t work for the company. That’s all me. Why can’t you do that?”

  I swallow, taking a breath before explaining her. “We cut cost by not having to pay an admin. If I have to do what you request, I have to hire someone just to do the paperwork.”

  “Who oversees your daily reports?” She frowns, her nose scrunching.

  “Kyle, and they’re monthly.”

  She sighs, opening the drawer on her left side and pulling out a folder. “Can you do it weekly?”

  “No,” I respond, pulling the copy of the contract I have. “That’s my standard. Every month, your company will receive a summary.”

  “That’s not enough,” she states.

  “Do you want me to tell you how many times a day we sweep, carry the trash or clean the windows?”

  She grabs a pen and scans the contract. “Is that your only concern? It’s supposed to be an easy appointment. A straightforward sign the contract, wire the funds and start the project.” Her flustered voice constricts my chest.

  I want to say something, fix her day and make her smile.

  Her assistant enters the room holding a manila folder. “Here is the contract, ready for your signatures.”

  Hazel looks up at her, “thank you, Zoey. Can you please ask Fitz to come to my office when he’s back?”

  She checks her watch. “Never mind, Fitz won’t be in today.”

  Hazel pushes the manila folder toward me. “Why don’t you sign the restoration contract?” Her eyes find mine as she hands me a pen. “Did you have any changes on that one?”

  “No. Only the management agreement. The term is too short for what you’re requesting. Think about the trouble we have to go through for a three-month contract,” I insist, so she understands that I’m not moving until there’s a resolution. “If it was a long-term project, I might think about hiring someone.”

  She taps the pen against the surface of the desk. “A year. If we sign a one-year agreement, will you accept the changes?”

  “Eighteen months, with an option to sign a second one for five years.” I counter, signing the other deal and initializing every page. “I need the security I’ll have the money to pay the new employee.”

  Fidgeting with her bottom lip, she concentrates on the papers, going from one page to the other. “You are asking for a long commitment. I can try, but let me check your terms and conditions to end our relationship.”

  “You want to terminate it?”

  Something changes in the air around us. It becomes heavy, filled with tension. The heavy atmosphere constricts my lungs. This feels just like the time she sent the divorce papers. Swallowing hard, I stare at the manila envelope. It reminds me so much of the one I received a few years ago. The same that I left on top of my desk for weeks before I had to accept that we were over. The end of us.

  “A-ha, you have no any penalties in case of early termination.” She places the pen on top of the contract and frowns. “You need a new lawyer. Fitz might take you as a client, though he can’t represent you in this particular case.”

  “You’re not making sense.” I cross my arms. “Are we signing the contract, but you want to keep your terms so you can dismiss me?”

  “I know it’s not making sense. This is just a way to ensure that I’m protected.” She flattens her hands-on top of her desk. Her gaze focused on me. “We need something to guarantee I won’t lose any money. The company who used to do maintenance on our buildings screwed us over. Hence the buildings need restoration. We believed they were doing their job. You’re new and you could…”

  “You think I’ll screw you over?” My entir
e body tenses. The only thing I hear is loud the pounding of my heart crashing against my ribs.

  This is personal. She’ll never trust me.

  Scott Everhart storms into the office and pins me with his gaze. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I can hear you all the way in my office.”

  “I’ll handle this, Scott,” she warns him. “You don’t need to intervene.”

  “But I can’t allow him to yell at you,” He grunts, his eyes blazing with fury.

  His gaze moves back to me. “You talk to her with nothing but respect. Do you understand?” He pauses for a couple of beats. “If you have an issue with the contracts, your lawyer calls ours. Is your former relationship going to affect your professional etiquette?”

  My face heats with anger. “This isn’t any of your business,” I stand up, enraged by his attitude. “The company isn’t yours, and you’re not her lawyer. My contract is with Waterfront Management and Hazel McFee.”

  I brim as he takes a step back when he’s reminded that she has my last name.

  “How about you mind your own fucking business?”

  Scott opens his mouth, but Hazel stands up, putting her petite body between us. “We can all behave, can’t we?” She pushes us further apart.

  Hazel stares at Scott. “Thank you for stepping in, but I had it under control,” then she glares at me, “He’s my advisor and part of the board of our parent company.”

  She pokes me in the chest with her index finger. “The last name is Beesley-McFee. And it’s a surname, not a title of ownership. We are not together.”

  My chest tightens with the reminder. Every cell in my body vibrates with anger. At everyone, but mostly at myself for losing my temper.

  “Would you mind if I stay for the remainder of the meeting, Ms. Beesley?” Scott requests, his voice soft and apologetic. But the way he says her last name is a dagger puncturing my heart. “I might be able to answer some of his questions.”

  “I want to add a termination clause before we finalize it,” I jump back into the contract, pushing away my feelings or the need to punch fucking Everhart.

  Her eyes flick up, meeting mine. “Why would you do that? I need to have an easy way out of it.”