I was running late. In a stroke of irony, there was a traffic hurdle downtown close to City Hall thanks to two cars fighting for the same parking place on the street refused to yield to each other. By the time I was able to maneuver around the standoff, I had less than ten minutes to park and run to the meeting chamber. I blew out a long breath and straightened my tie as I slid into the seat next to John. I gave a cursory glance at Gene who was seated across the aisle. His expression tensed as he saw me. Rather than the proud bearing I remembered from my youth, he looked tired, and his eyes looked troubled and sad as he sat by himself.

I didn't like the way his demeanor unwittingly tugged on my emotions, which were raw enough after learning about Grace's betrayal two days ago. Sympathy had no place in business; it allowed for vulnerability, and I hadn’t built my business by being weak.

Look where yielding to emotions had gotten me with Grace—one big heartache. Knowing she was hurting didn’t make me feel any better. Grace had texted me multiple times. I read her apologies and her pleas to talk. Even Jade texted me, reminding me of how she’d remove my balls in a very creative and painful way if I continued to hurt her friend.

What they were both forgetting is that I was hurting. I wanted to talk to Grace, but I wasn’t ready, yet. I wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make things worse. So here I was, alone once again, ready to run roughshod over Gene and gain the building I needed. I knew, however, that even if I had a victory here today, I’d still feel empty.

John slid a file in front of me, thankfully bringing my attention back to the present. "Glad you made it. We're first on the agenda."

"Good. I want to get this over with."

If John was surprised by my terse words, he didn't let on. He continued to review his notes, then sat straight in his chair with his hands linked together on the table in front of him as other members of the council filed in. His confidence only emphasized Gene's lesser prepared state.

Given the important community decisions that took place in this room, it was pretty underwhelming. The most remarkable thing about it was its round shape. Pictures of the city as it evolved over the century decorated the wall behind the chairs where the council members sat in an arch at the front of the room. I spied the City Manager, Alan Phelps, enter from a door to the left of the seats. He unbuttoned his jacket and took his seat in the middle of the row.

I respected Alan, at least up until this issue came up. It felt as if he had grown to enjoy a role in power playing; like he took some strange pleasure in forcing my hand. As the city had grown and developed, so had his role in the city government. And while he wasn't doing anything technically illegal, he was a little bit too smug about reminding me who had more power here.

Fine. I'd let him have his little power play. This was a closed meeting, so he wasn't impressing anyone. In fact, the room was oddly quiet from other times I'd been here. It was the reason I could hear the door behind me open and click shut. Immediately, I sensed Grace's presence. I hadn't seen her since I left her apartment. She'd sent me multiple texts and left several voice mails, but I hadn't read or listened to any of them. Not just out of anger, but I knew hearing her voice would be too painful. It would make me want to break down and run to her. I'd promised myself that never again would I allow a woman—anyone for that matter—to make me weak again. I'd slipped with Grace. I'd thought she was different. But once again, I was proved right—women were nefarious creatures.

I could feel her eyes on me as she took a seat next to Gene, but I kept mine straight ahead, swallowing down my disappointment and hurt. One last small part of me had hoped she sit behind me, one last effort to believe she'd take my side. But it seemed she'd made her choice—and I wasn't it.

Sheila Brooks, the President of the City Council, called the meeting to order. "We're here tonight to determine the best use of the building that has become known as 'The Press Building.' Prior to several days ago, the Council was unaware of any solid interest in this structure, and now it seems we have two potential candidates, only recently brought forth by our City Manager." She shot a pointed look at Alan, who frowned and kept his attention aimed at the water glass in front of him. "Regardless, each interested party has a unique suggestion and approach as to how to utilize it. Each is a worthy solution. The question we must concern ourselves with is which will best benefit the city of Passion.

"Tonight's special meeting was called so we could hear each side present their reasoning. And while we know you'd like a hurried decision, that, gentlemen, is not likely to come tonight. With all this out of the way, who'd like to present first?"

John immediately shot to his feet, straightening his suit coat as he did. Sheila nodded at him. John smoothly presented our idea to turn the building into a parking garage, while listing all the reasons our growing city needed one, as well as why repurposing the building made the most sense and would save the city and taxpayers money in the end. He described the two options we'd come up with involving the purchase and subsequent split of profits incurred from parking fees. I was amazed. What took us weeks of figuring, he'd summarized in five minutes. He handed each member of the council a folder that I knew contained more details, but he wasn't overwhelming them from the get-go.

Sheila leaned into the small microphone in front of her. "Thank you." She looked at her peers. "Any questions?" There were none. "Then Dr. Carlin, you have the floor."

Steeling myself, I took my first solid look in their direction. Gene glanced at Grace, who squeezed his hand and nodded. As he stood, Grace glanced at me. I was caught off guard with how miserable and small she looked, nothing like the vibrant, confident woman I'd met. I fisted my fingers and hardened my resolve by reminding myself of why we were on two different sides of the aisle. Her face silently pleaded with me to understand, to forgive. A piece of me, a very large piece, wanted to run to her and cradle her in my arms and comfort her; to assure her everything would be all right. Instead, I managed to keep my expression neutral and turned to face the front of the room, but not before I saw her eyes glisten with tears.

Gene spoke. "On behalf of the hospital and myself, we appreciate the time you've taken to hear us out. As you know, the Kidz Korner is a non-profit organization currently hosted by the hospital to offer services and programs to give our youth a place to go after school or while a parent receives care during an appointment or counseling group. Not only is the current building in poor shape, but it's also become too small for the growth we've experienced. The mental health department of the hospital has created a new position to help at-risk kids. This would include substance or sexual abuse, depression, bullying, and many other problems that affect our community's youth. I've been named the first to be the head of this new department. I hope to create a program that not only provides on-site counseling for the problems I listed but also to create a fun environment that will help pull kids who are bored and stirring up problems off the streets. We'd create youth lead programs such as dances, plays, poetry slams, concerts, or whatever they brainstorm and can coordinate. It's a unique way to discover and build leadership skills."

I watched as several council members sat up and took notice as Gene described his vision. Even I was impressed.

"That sounds innovative and appealing, Dr. Carlin. However, it also sounds remarkably expensive. How do you propose to fund this, and why do you want this particular building?"

"While many of the staff will be volunteers, there will be some paid positions. We've applied and received several grants and will continue to do more fundraisers. Miss Grace Hart has volunteered to continue to help us create innovative ideas for raising money after the initial recent success of one nearly three weeks ago that raised half a million dollars." He turned to Grace and smiled, who smiled faintly back. "As for the building, we originally wanted the Press Building because it's cheap. Or, so we believed. It's also in an area where it would get noticed and is on the bus route, so kids without rides would potentially still be able to get to it."

Gene cleared his throat. "However, it's our understanding that Mr. Carter had previously inquired and had a tentative agreement with Mr. Phelps for the building. We know we cannot outbid JAC Enterprises, and therefore we've begun to explore alternatives. Miss Hart has been diligently looking into other options and has found that there are still some storefronts on the edge of town that are smaller and more expensive than we'd hoped for, but she's promised to help find more donations. Once we find the rightful owners, we'll work on negotiating the price. It might take us longer to obtain the funds, but we respectfully ask the Council to consider extending the bus service to expand to that block should this take place. Therefore, we withdraw our offer for The Press Building, and fully press that JAC Enterprises be given the right to purchase it with all haste."

Several mouths, including Alan's, dropped open. Most everyone's eyes were surprised. John turned to me with stunned eyes, but a victorious smile. He shook my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief while I took it all in.

Sheila once again spoke into her mic. "That's certainly understanding and generous of you, Dr. Carlin. Are you sure of this decision?"

Gene's demeanor grew more relaxed. "I am. Logistically, it's much easier to find a place for our needs than it is for a parking garage. They don't fit just anywhere." Several of the members chuckled along with him." As Mr. Blackburn pointed out, we need the professionals to fill our office spaces and run profitable businesses. That's good for all of us. After all, how can Miss Hart hit them up later for charitable donations if they can't get clients in their doors?"

This time, even John and I managed to smile. Grudgingly, my respect for my former stepfather grew, at least in this matter. He had every right to fight for the building that could house his dream, just as I did. I leaned back in my chair to try to see Grace's expression. I wondered how much, if any, influence she had on this decision. I could tell she sensed my attention by the stiffening of her shoulders, but she refused to look at me. Instead, she focused on her friend as he continued to speak.

"What you may not know, is that Alan is my former brother-in-law. While I don't condone his secrecy and scheming to hold Mr. Carter and his company from outright buying the Press Building while we worked to raise money, I do appreciate his support for our cause. He recognizes how beneficial it will be to our community. I hope the Council will as well, and in the future, support our goal to help our kids." He sat down. Grace leaned into him and spoke in his ear while there was a smattering of applause from the Council members.

With little fanfare, Sheila dismissed the hearing, and John began to gather up his papers. "Well, that was easier than we expected."

"Almost too easy," I commented. "It's not like him." I recalled how he'd begged my mother to give him another chance once she decided to end their marriage.

"You know him that well?" John sounded surprised.

"I do. Or at least I did." When he saw I wasn't going to elaborate further, he shook my hand. "I'll be in touch once I have the paperwork signed. I suspect the Council won't hesitate in moving forward, although we'll still have to negotiate the final details. That'll be a walk in the park after this."

I slapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck with that. Embarrassed or not, Alan's still going to try to squeeze every penny he can in his favor."

"All part of the fun." John laughed and headed out as a couple of council members made their way to me to shake my hand and tell me that they would have supported the parking garage had it come to a vote.

Minutes later, feeling much less stressed than when I'd walked in, I turned to leave only to find Gene still at his table, shuffling papers back and forth with no real purpose. It was just the two of us left in the room.

Sometimes, the best thing was to leave things be. I turned and headed down the aisle without a word.

“Jaxson.”

Fuck!