Architectural Collapse

‘Have you lined up those meetings?’ I asked as I whirled into the kitchen, jumping on one foot to get a shoe on, thermos ready in one hand for my coffee.

‘Meetings?’ my husband asked, standing confused by the coffee machine.

I pointed at my earpiece and scowled at him.

‘I swear, Jerome,’ I growled at my assistant on the other end, ‘if you don’t sort this out by the time I’m in the office, I’m going to hire every member of your family, then fire them all at once so you all go broke together. How does that sound? What do you mean they’d appreciate the benefits package?’

I hung up on him with an aggressive click and flicked my attention back to my husband.

‘Who are the meetings with?’

‘Just some builders and architects near the Bayside area,’ I grumbled.

‘Since when do you work with architects?’ my husband asked, as the coffee machine finished its whirring.

‘Great question,’ I sighed. ‘It’s more of a… favour, than a business meeting.’

‘Jessica,’ he frowned. ‘What have you gotten yourself into?’

‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ I scowled at him. ‘Worry about yourself.’

‘You know that isn’t how this works,’ he said, exasperatedly gesturing in the air between us. ‘We’re supposed to have each other’s back.’

‘Well, the next time I need a residential architectural services expert near me I know just who to call,’ I scoffed.

‘I’m serious,’ he said, seriously. ‘You can call on me if things are getting too dicey.’

‘Well, they’re not,’ I said quickly, pouring my coffee into my thermos and snatching up my briefcase. ‘I’m leaving.’

‘Wait, Jess—’

‘No, Mike,’ I held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. ‘It’s done. Drop it.’

He slowly shook his head, but leant back on the balls of his feet, and stopped.

‘Fine,’ he whispered. ‘But one day, you’re going to get home from that stupid job of yours, and I’m not going to be here waiting for you.’

He turned and left the kitchen, starting a slow journey up the staircase.