Unfinished

Chapter Twelve

Nelson

By six thirty, I had already checked the time three times.

It was irritating.

I had a reception to host, a room full of investors and business partners to entertain, and a development project that required my attention. There was no reasonable explanation for why I kept glancing at my watch.

Except, perhaps, one.

Stacy Williams.

I closed the folder Samuel had placed in front of me.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” I asked.

Samuel glanced at the guest list on his tablet. “A few of the consultants are still on their way. Evelyn is already downstairs.”

“And the design team?”

“Ms. Williams confirmed her attendance.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.

“Good.”

Samuel looked at me for a moment before returning his attention to the tablet.

I didn’t appreciate the faint amusement in his eyes.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“No, sir.”

“Then go downstairs.”

He left without another word.

I stood, adjusted my cufflinks, and walked toward the door.

This was ridiculous. I had met Stacy several times over the past few weeks. We had argued over budgets, challenged each other’s decisions, and spent more time discussing lighting than most people spent discussing their entire homes.

There was nothing particularly unusual about seeing her again.

Still, I found myself wondering what she would wear.

⸻

The reception was already underway when I reached the main hall.

The space looked exactly as I had intended: understated luxury, warm lighting, carefully arranged seating, and enough room for guests to move without feeling crowded.

Evelyn stood near the entrance, speaking with two members of the development team.

“Nelson,” she greeted me when she noticed me. “Everything looks good.”

“That’s reassuring. I was worried we’d accidentally organized a terrible evening.”

She laughed. “You should try smiling. It might convince people you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Please do. We have guests.”

I greeted a few familiar faces, exchanged pleasantries, and listened to an investor explain a concern about one of our upcoming developments.

I answered his questions, made a note for Samuel to follow up, and turned toward the entrance.

Then I saw her.

Stacy had just walked in.

She wore a black evening dress that fell elegantly against her figure, with her hair styled away from her face. Nothing about her appearance seemed overly complicated, and yet she drew my attention immediately.

She paused just inside the entrance, taking in the room.

For a second, I simply watched her.

Then she spotted Evelyn and walked over.

“Stacy,” Evelyn greeted warmly. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s a beautiful space.”

“Nelson will be pleased to hear that.”

“Will he? I thought he preferred compliments delivered in written reports.”

Evelyn laughed.

I approached them before she could respond.

“You’re assuming I read compliments.”

Stacy turned.

“Good evening, Nelson.”

“Good evening.”

Her eyes briefly moved over my suit before returning to my face.

“You’re looking very formal tonight.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“I’m still deciding.”

Evelyn shook her head, smiling. “I’ll leave you two to it. Stacy, make sure you speak to some of the partners. They’re interested in the studio.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Evelyn walked away.

I looked back at Stacy.

“How was your week?”

“Busy. Yours?”

“About the same.”

“That sounds like a very exciting answer.”

“I didn’t realize I was being interviewed.”

“You should be prepared. I ask difficult questions.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She smiled, and I found myself returning it before I could think better of it.

It was a small thing. Barely a moment.

But I liked seeing her smile.

⸻

Over the next half hour, I introduced Stacy to several people connected to the development.

She handled herself well.

She didn’t hover around me, waiting to be introduced, and she didn’t try too hard to impress anyone. When a consultant asked about the design direction for the residential spaces, she explained her decisions clearly, defending the choices without becoming defensive.

I watched her speak with a senior partner who had initially questioned whether a studio of her size could handle a project like ours.

He seemed considerably less doubtful by the time their conversation ended.

“She’s good,” Evelyn said beside me.

I glanced at her.

“Stacy?”

“Who else? She’s confident without being difficult. And she knows her work.”

“She does.”

Evelyn studied me briefly.

“You sound almost proud.”

“I’m pleased with the decision we made.”

“Of course.”

I gave her a look.

She smiled into her glass and walked away.

Across the room, Stacy was listening to something one of the consultants was saying. She laughed at his comment, then shook her head.

I caught myself looking in her direction again.

It wasn’t simply that she was beautiful, although she was.

There was something about the way she occupied a room. She didn’t seem to need anyone’s approval, yet she was attentive enough to make people feel heard. She could challenge a decision without making it personal.

And I had begun to enjoy discovering these things about her.

More than I probably should.

⸻

Later, I found her standing near the windows overlooking the city.

She was holding a glass of sparkling water, her attention fixed on the lights outside.

“Escaping already?”

She turned.

“Taking a break.”

“From the people?”

“From the conversations. There’s only so many times I can explain why I chose a particular finish before I start questioning my own decisions.”

I stood beside her.

“That’s unfortunate. I was hoping you’d give another presentation.”

She laughed softly.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

She looked at me.

“Do you ever relax at these things?”

“Occasionally.”

“When?”

“When everyone stop asking me questions.”

“That must happen often.”

“Not nearly enough.”

She smiled and took a sip of her drink.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The city stretched beneath us, all glass towers and moving headlights. The music from the reception drifted through the room behind us.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said eventually. “It’s nice to see the people behind the project.”

“You’re part of the project now.”

“I know. But there’s a difference between working with people and actually meeting them.”

“Did you meet anyone interesting?”

She looked at me.

“One or two.”

“Only one or two?”

“I haven’t finished my assessment.”

I laughed.

It came more easily than I expected.

She seemed pleased with herself.

A waiter passed nearby, and Stacy placed her empty glass on the tray.

“I should probably go back before Maya accuses me of abandoning the studio’s reputation.”

“Maya isn’t here.”

“She doesn’t need to be. She has a talent for making me feel guilty from several miles away.”

I smiled.

“Then I won’t keep you.”

“Goodnight, Nelson.”

“Goodnight, Stacy.”

She walked back toward the reception.

I remained by the window for a moment, watching her disappear into the crowd.

I had spent the better part of the evening looking forward to seeing her.

And now that I had, I found myself wishing the evening wasn’t quite over.

That was new.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

But when Samuel approached to tell me the final guests were arriving, I caught myself glancing once more toward the room.

Stacy was laughing at something Evelyn had said.

I looked away, picked up my glass, and returned to the evening.

For once, I didn’t mind having something to look forward to on Monday.