Page 11 of Structure of Love

Fingers crossed the building worked out. ’Cause I ain’t got a backup plan.

Gage: I just met this bartender at Blackbird and omg, can I lick him?

Gage: I wanna lick him

Zar: So you gave him your number, right?

Gage: I didn’t have the right timing for that

Riggs: Ooh! I’ll go to the bar with you and be your wingman

Gage: What am I to you, anyway, cheap entertainment?

Riggs: Oh, so you did know? I wondered

Gage: *string of flipping the bird emojis*

4

Gage

Friday night had made me think hard. I’d taken Cooper home—the snoring, slobbering mess he was—and dumped him right on the living room floor. Mom had demanded help getting him to bed, but I’d turned around, gotten back in my truck, and left. I shouldn’t have even picked him up from the bar, in fact. If Cooper had woken up on the cold floor with a crick in his neck, he’d deserved it.

I’d mulled over Logan’s story the whole weekend. How he’d had to crash completely before he’d pulled himself from the toxic cycle. He was clearly a good man now. He held down a job—in a bar, no less—and was emotionally mature enough to give a stranger some much-needed advice.

God, if Cooper could do what Logan had done…I’d give my left pinky toe for that to happen. Sadly, me wishing for it wouldn’t make the outcome materialize.

However, following the advice Logan had given me might work. He’d walked a similar path. He knew what to do. If I was smart, I’d stick to his words.

I woke up on Monday feeling more at peace with my game plan and avowing to myself all over again I wasnotgoing to answer Cooper’s calls. Or my mother’s. I’d talk to them precisely once, to outline my new boundaries, and then let the chips fall where they may.

Me sacrificing myself for them, that stopped now.

I had a consult this morning with Cohen. After our Monday morning meeting, we both hopped into my truck and headed over to the property. Cohen sipped coffee while I drove. He looked unfairly perky, no trace of fatigue around his brown eyes. His olive skin tone was darker than usual because of all the summer sun, and he had sun-kissed highlights in his dark brown hair.

I was seriously jealous. I had to visit a stylist to get highlights.

He was also thinking hard over there. “I know we all said we needed to expand and hire more crews, or freelancers, but we’ve had a fifty-fifty success rate. We found those three—the handyman brothers, the fledgling construction company, and Bob. But the framers were a complete wash, I’ll never hire that electrician again, and the one plumber still hasn’t shown up or even texted.”

“We’re certainly weeding good out from the bad,” I said, letting out a sigh. “But the three we found are solid. Good workers, they keep to a schedule, and that’s all I really care about. With them on board, Riggs was actually okay with taking on another project.”

“We need to keep weeding through people, though, ’cause we’re growing faster than I expected. A lot of people have been burned by renovation companies. I think that’s why our reputation is spreading so fast, why so many are calling for estimates.”

“I mean, considering the fiasco I saw on Friday with the framing, makes sense.”

Riggs and Cohen had tackled said framing problem and basically threatened small claims court if the framers didn’t pay us for the wood. It was a ton of wood, and most of it wasn’t reusable. They’d tried demanding payment, which Riggs had shot down, and after threatening to file a lawsuit, they’d backed off. Those guys needed to find another line of work if they were going to be so sloppy.

The foreman had to pay for our labor lost in fixing the issue, which he wasn’t happy about, but he also realized paying up was the better outcome for him. We could have gone after him harder than that. Trust was burned, though, and Cohen was not going to use him after this, either.

Anyway, the issue was resolved in my mind, and also not something I had to deal with. That was the beauty of having colleagues.

“So this project is by a bar owner, huh? Wanting his own building.” Cohen reviewed notes on his tablet and grunted. “I think the building he’s looking at is a smart choice. Great location.”

“He’s only moving a few doors down,” I pointed out as we passed the bar in question. Blackbird was currently in the old Starbucks location, right on the corner, which made pedestrian traffic a win for sure. Parking was a bitch, though, as he had a small parking lot tucked in next to the building. I spoke from experience.

I could see why the other building appealed, as it had a large parking lot and was a much shorter walk. A smart move all around, assuming he could do the renovations he wanted. We were coming to answer that very question.

I parked in the basically empty parking lot, getting out and picking up my toolkit. I didn’t have a ton in there, mostly my tablet so I could take notes, a measuring tape, and a flashlight,and Cohen grabbed my stepladder. I’d need it to access places. Maybe.