Always the Last to Know(80)

As I lay there, slightly drunk, tears leaking into the pillow, feeling as dumb as I’d ever felt, I had two overwhelming thoughts.

The first was that I missed my dad so, so much. That he would’ve known more than anyone how to make me feel better about this—less ridiculous, less like the younger, stupid Frost daughter.

The second was that Noah wouldn’t have cheated on me with a gun to the back of his head.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





Juliet


On Wednesday, Kathy stopped by Juliet’s office, her gossip face on—eyes sliding from the left to the right, eyebrow raised (lucky . . . Juliet’s were still frozen). She came in and closed the door. “Guess who was just named project manager on the school Beyoncé is building in Houston?”

“What Beyoncé school?” This was the first Juliet had heard of it.

Kathy sat down, looking too pleased with herself. “Yeah. Her.”

“Arwen?”

“Who else?”

Anyone else, that’s who. Matt, who was nine years senior to Arwen. Elena, who was six. Brett and Christopher, four.

“Are you going to talk to Dave?” Kathy asked, running a hand through her bright red hair.

“Are you?”

“No. Of course not. It’s not like I could be PM, though I’m definitely hoping to be on the interior team. Maybe meet Queen Bey.”

Juliet was very sure Kathy was too old and white to be using that nickname. She glanced out the window, her stomach clenching with nerves. “Did you know we were pitching Beyoncé?”

“Arwen mentioned it. It’s really Beyoncé’s foundation. Her PR team asked us to keep it a secret till ground is broken.”

Beyoncé. Jesus. And Kathy knew, but hadn’t said a word till now.

“Well. I have work to do, Kathy.”

“I’m sure you do.”

What did that mean? She and Kathy used to be friends, but Kathy had always been the office gossip. Juliet felt she’d been immune to that.

Now it was hard to trust her, with that Arwen haircut and the way Kathy brayed laughter from Arwen’s office at least twice a day. Kathy was here to gather intel, that’s what she was doing. To plant seeds and make trouble.

It worked.

A few hours later, so it wouldn’t be so obvious, she went down the hall to Dave’s office with the excuse of showing him the plans on a house for a former senator. She liked doing residences once in a while—she’d done her own house, obviously, and occasionally offered to do one at work, though it was small potatoes for her. She’d volunteered to do this one because it was fun and had a limitless budget, which was always pleasant.

“Is he available?” she asked the side-eying Laurie (who may have been casting a spell on her).

Laurie shrugged and jerked her chin, indicating that it was okay for Juliet to go in. Her boss had his feet up on the desk and was gazing out the window. Hard to believe he’d been a force in architecture once, since he mostly napped and went out for lunch these days.

“Hey, Dave, I’ve got the elevations on that house in Maryland. Want to have a look?”

“Sure.” She sat down and watched as he gave them a glance. “Nice job, Juliet.”

“Thanks. It’s a beautiful site.”

“That it is.”

“So, Dave . . . I heard a rumor. You made Arwen the PM on a school for Beyoncé’s foundation?”

He avoided looking at her, studying the house plans as if he’d just realized they’d come down from Mount Sinai in the hands of Moses. “Mm,” he offered.

Be careful, a voice in her head warned her. But screw that. She’d earned her place here. “Since when does such a green architect get that kind of high-profile job? I thought the firm had a system. A ladder.” One that she’d climbed, step-by-step, never skipping a single rung.

Dave sighed. Still didn’t look up. “Arwen is very talented.”

“I’m aware of that, Dave. But she’s only thirty-one. She still needs supervision.”

“Or does she? She’s quite ambitious. People respond to her.”

“There are a lot of ambitious people here who outrank her. Matt. Elena. Brett.” She paused. “Me. I’m a little shocked that I wasn’t informed we were pitching this job, frankly. I’m the senior project manager at this firm.”

“Look, Juliet,” he said, finally looking at her. Her chin, to be exact. “You’ve done some remarkable work for us.”

“I am doing remarkable work for you, Dave.” Her voice was firm but she made sure not to be too angry, because God forbid her boss had to deal with an angry female. “I realize Arwen is the shiny new thing, but my record speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

“I’m a fan of yours, Juliet. Don’t get hostile.”

Oh, the fuckery. “I’m not being hostile. I’m pointing out facts.”

“Maybe if you smiled more, people would—”

“Dave. Do not finish that sentence.”

“I’m just saying, Arwen is a really positive person. She smiles all the time.”

“Are you giving her a promotion because she smiles?” she asked.