Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Fifteen
Elliot
Do not make every problem a war. — Christopher Everhart
I takea deep breath and close 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, I 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 Street.
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.
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 and 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 is 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 to 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 to 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.
“Aha, you have no 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 entire body tenses. The only thing I hear is the loud 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, have your lawyer call 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, enraged by his attitude. “The company isn’t yours, and you’re not her lawyer. My contract is with Waterfront Property 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 farther 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.”
The room spins as she spits her answer. She needs an easy way out?
Why don’t you go back to New York? That was pretty easy the last time when things got difficult between us.
I exhale, lifting my eyebrows. “Because I have to protect my company from being fired without notice. That clause will give me time to amend any mistake before losing the contract.” I swallow, working to keep my voice flat. Fighting the fucking rage.
“I offer to give you an eighteen-month term,” she fires back. Ironically, she uses a cold voice. “You’ll send us a weekly report, and we can end the contract at any time. If you worry we’ll fire you, don’t. As long as you do the job as promised, we have no reason to terminate it.”
“Not everything is black and white. There’s an underlying gray, Hazel,” I chastise. My chest is on fire. “How do I know that you won’t terminate us without giving us a chance to fix what we wronged? In the real world, you try to work things out before you part ways.”
She blinks twice. “My plan isn’t to end the deal. I trust that your company is as good as your customers raved about when we called them.”
“I need leverage,” I demand. “Something tangible that tells me you won’t leave me hanging if I fuck up.”
“Are we still talking about the contract?” Her clipped tone is a punch to my gut. Those big eyes flare, erasing the sweetness in her face. “Because I feel like this isn’t about work, but us.”
I take a deep breath, calming myself.
“It’s not like you have explained or apologized for what happened between us, Elliot.” She scrunches her nose.
“My point exactly. You never allowed me to do that.” I squeeze my lips together, taking several breaths. “Because if you had done that, we could’ve saved what we had.”
“Why does it matter now?” She presses her hands onto the desk, rising from her seat. “You moved on long ago. You’re happily married.”
“Married?” My head jerks back. “Why would you assume I’m married?”
She raises her left hand, showing me her bare ring finger.
I stare at mine, smiling at the ring. Standing up, I show her my hand, waiting for her to recognize it.
Her eyes widen as she draws a sharp breath. “Why are you still wearing it?”
As I’m about to argue, my phone buzzes several times.
Kyle: I need you in Napa. The pipes in the main house burst.
I rub the back of my neck, then walk toward the desk and take the contract I already signed. “The renovation is straightforward. We’ll start as soon as you wire the fifty percent. Call me if you want to sign the other one. You know my terms.”
“Why are you wearing the ring?” she insists, staring at my hand.
“We can talk about it later. I have an emergency.”
“Elliot.” She uses her demanding tone. “Are you married?”
“It’s always been you, Hazel.”
“I don’t understand!”
My phone buzzes again, then it rings. I check the screen, and it’s Kyle. I need you here. Now.
“I have to go.” I pick up my things. “Email me when you decide what we are doing with the contract. Eighteen months and I need a thirty-day notice to terminate it.”
“You can’t just leave. I need an explanation.”
She does, and today of all days, I don’t have time to stay and discuss anything. “Because I said forever.” My voice comes out rough, and my muscles tighten as the urgency to leave mixes with her question.
This fucking day can’t get any worse.
“That’s not enough!” I hear her coming right behind me.
The elevator doors are open. I step inside, tapping the level of the parking lot. When I turn, I see her glaring at me. Her nostrils flaring as her blazing eyes stare at me. Scott is right behind her. His narrowed gaze on me. He’s close enough to protect her, but he’s giving her space to be her own person. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to fuck up—again—so he can swipe her away from me.
I press the arrows keeping the elevator open. “I have an emergency. I swear I’d stay if this weren’t important.”
“You can’t wait a few minutes just to give me an explanation. At least, I deserve that much,” Hazel barks.
Here we go again. Hazel requests my attention while everything else is getting in the way. She used to be my priority. But after Dad died, I pushed her away. My mother lost her shit. My siblings needed me. I tried to be who she wanted, but I failed her.
“I offered an explanation years ago,” I recall the time she caught me at the strip club and ignored all my calls. “You waited this long. I’m sure you can wait a few more days.”
“This is why I don’t understand you. You just said fucking forever. But as usual, you don’t stick to that.” Her shoulders slump, and the pain in her eyes breaks my fucking heart.
“Even after everything I did for you, you left me anyway.”
“Everything you did for me?” Her eyes flare with anger. “How about what I did for you?”
“You did nothing.” I throw the words back at her face. “While I broke my back for my family and I did everything you wanted. Actually, didn’t you move away to find a better life?”
“That’s not fair.” Her face turns red in anger, her hands curl into fists. “I moved because of us. You needed help. I needed college. I was working my ass off for you and your family. Why am I even discussing this with you? I refused to listen to you because you lied. You used me while you had a different life. Did you think about it while you cheated?” She tosses her hands up in the air.
“I never used you.”
“You took the money I sent, didn’t you?”
Staring at her, I try to understand the words she throws like lethal shots that aim at my chest.
“I worked forty hours plus every week while going to school so your family could pay the backed-up mortgage,” she says, her voice firm. “Who do you think paid for your mother’s therapies? I had to learn how to become indispensable to my grandfather so I could continue working while I was at school.”
“What are you saying?”
“That you don’t understand what real love or forever means,” she concludes.
My phone buzzes again.
“Just leave, McFee.”
She turns around, and Scott Everhart is waiting for her with open arms. Not literally, they don’t hug. But he’s right in front of her, listening to her talk. Her body is rigid, her hands are moving fast. He focuses on her, looking at her the way I used to when she’d come home hurt after seeing her parents leave without an explanation.
“Bee,” I call out to her, but the doors close. I bang the metal walls with my fist. Fuck, I had to hit her right where I know it hurts her most. How can I convince her she’s my life when I always put everyone else before her?
I’m shaken,my stomach hardens, and I let a loud exhale once I climb into my truck. Waterfront might be the best company we’ve landed, but being around Hazel kills me. I’m furious with her, and with that fucking asshole who seems to be everywhere. But most of all, I am enraged with myself.
And what the fuck was she talking about doing everything for my family?
I press my fingers on my eyes as I wait for my pulse to slow down. Then I call Kyle, who I bet knows more about Hazel’s altruism toward my family.
“Yell-ow,” he answers the phone.
“We need to talk.”
“How about you drive your ass to Napa?” His voice booms on the other side of the phone.
“Where did you get all that money to help my family?” I control my tone.
“I haven’t sent a penny to you or your family,” he responds. “I need you here.”
I scrub my face. “After Hazel left for New York, you kept handing me money until…”
Why didn’t I put everything together?
The day she caught me, Kyle stopped helping me financially. The funds his grandfather had left him were gone. I got upset because I believed he had blown it on drugs.
“If you needed more money, why didn’t you tell me?” she said while on the phone. Her voice trembled with rage and hurt. “You had received plenty. Why on earth wasn’t it enough? I tried to be enough.”
I scratch my temple as every piece falls into place. I had hated Hazel for her reaction, but her attitude was justifiable. The money Kyle gave me was plenty to pay my siblings’ college tuition and support my family. He claimed my family needed it more than anyone else.
“It’s a good deed,” Kyle argued. “My grandfather would be happy to know that his hard work was helping others.”
It helped. Thanks to that money and my jobs, I could start my business. A wave of guilt crashes against my chest. I’m drowning in a pool of regret.
“There was never a trust fund. It was Hazel all along,” I mutter as the ripples of shame and regret travel through my body.
“Well, there wasn’t a secret trust from my late grandfather,” he confesses. “Hazel asked me not to say anything. You would’ve rejected her help like you did when she first offered.”
His words sting my pride. How could I be so blind and selfish with her?
“But it was my obligation to take care of her.”
“That, my friend, isn’t my department.”
He remains quiet for a few seconds then, he says, “Dude, the house is flooding.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Good.” He exhales. “I have some advice for you. Be grateful. All that money I gave you came from Hazel. Nothing was mine.”
“Tell me you’re joking,” I grumble. “That was a lot of money.”
“Why do you think she was livid when she caught you?” he retorts. “I wished I had been sober back then.”
I try to breathe, but my chest tightens more and more as the minutes pass. Hazel had more right to be upset than I wanted to admit. Without everything she sent, we wouldn’t have survived. I punch the wheel. How could I have been so careless with the woman I loved?
“Get your ass here. We’ll figure out what to do about her later.”
