I raise an eyebrow. “Get to what?”
“Addison,” he says, drawing out the name like it’s gossip wrapped in a bow. “We’ve all noticed. You’re building arches like they hold the secret to the universe. You’re here after hours. You bring backup for a dry run like it’s a fire drill. When are you going to put a label on it?”
Ramirez doesn’t deny it. She just sips from her water bottle and says, “You’ve got a soft spot, all right, and it’s not for lighting placement. You’re gone for her, and everyone can see it. What are you planning to do about it?”
I scrub a hand through my hair and glance toward the arch. “It’s not like that.”
“It totally is,” Lee says.
I exhale slowly. “Fine. I like her. Okay? A lot. She’s brilliant. She’s relentless. She doesn’t take shortcuts, and she doesn’t make excuses. She’s got more on her plate than most people can manage, and she still makes everything run like clockwork.”
They don’t interrupt. I think they know this is the kind of thing that you don’t cut off halfway.
I let my voice drop. “But she’s also under a microscope. Everyone watches her. Judges her. People like Cassandra and Simon Baxter —” I stop, shaking my head. “They’d twist it. They already twist things. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
They don’t say anything.
I step off the ladder, stretch my shoulders, and take in the view. Lights begin to glow, catching the late-day gold. The rows between trees look like something from a magazine now. We’ve managed to finish all three main rows and half the perimeter without a single blown fuse.
We’re tired. A little sore. But it’s the kind of tired that comes with purpose.
“You ever think about being the guy someone counts on?” I ask suddenly.
Lee raises an eyebrow. “You mean, like, you?”
“No,” I say, then shake my head. “Well, yeah. Maybe. I used to think I just liked fixing things. That it was enough. But lately…”
“You want more than fixing.”
I glance toward the space where Addison usually stands, clipboard in hand, telling me not to use nails longer than 1.5 inches. “Yeah. I want to be someone she doesn’t have to manage. Someone she trusts. Even on her worst day.”
Ramirez smiles gently. “Then keep showing up.”
The final test run goes off without a hitch. We flip the switch and the orchard glows — not too bright, not too dim. Just right. Like it’s holding its breath for something beautiful.
I snap a photo and send it to Addison with one line:
Lights are up. Hope it matches what you pictured.
Ramirez hands me a bottle of water and pats my shoulder. “Good work, Coach.”
Lee claps me on the back and says, “Hey, if this wedding thing doesn’t pan out, we’re starting a side hustle. Smyth & Sons: Emotional Renovations.”
I laugh. “You’d last two hours before zip ties break you.”
We pack up as the first stars peek through the lavender sky. I linger behind for a few minutes, watching the orchard glow in the near-dark, golden and still.
Lee suddenly flops onto a folding crate and declares, “If I die young, please bury me beneath solar string lights.”
Ramirez chuckles and stretches her arms over her head. “Better than overhead fluorescents at the ER.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
You’ve outdone yourself! Can’t wait to see them in person.
I can’t help myself but grin as I’m putting my phone back in my pocket.
Lee chuckles, “Boss lady happy?”
