The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

entered the Skillet. Its decor greeted her with a perfect lumberjack-chic balance, complete with wood-paneled walls and waiters bedecked in plaid. The massive windows let in what little gray sunlight the city had to offer as she slid into a plush moss-colored booth. The diner was one part hipster pretension and one part perfect burger, neither of which she objected to, if she was honest.

Today was a guilt-free-hamburger kind of day. In fact, eyeing the specialty drinks, she thought pretty much the entire Technocore project deserved a treat. Vowing to come back for a boozy milkshake when she didn’t have to go back to work, Dylan had finished ordering “the Burger,” complete with whatever bacon jam was, when her phone rang.

Nicolas almost never called during the workday unless it was an emergency. While she wasn’t sure what she could do from Seattle about a leaky pipe, she felt like she should pick up. After all, she had missed yesterday’s call because she was with Mi—busy, Dylan course corrected midthought.

“Hello,” she answered, unpacking the pirate romance.

“Hey, babe. How are you?” Nicolas asked, concern in his voice.

Dylan exhaled, happy to have a sounding board. Nicolas wasn’t the kind of guy who listened to every small detail of your day. But if you told him about a problem and the solutions you were mulling over, he could be helpful. And she needed help. “Nicolas, I’m worried about this assignment. I basically pulled an all-nighter developing solutions, only to have Tim tell me that he is a genius who can solve his own problems.”

“These guys always think that. Would you really be there if he was that smart?” Nicolas scoffed.

“He seems to think so.” Dylan smiled up at the owner of a tattooed arm dropping off her iced tea.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Nicolas asked, just like she’d expected. There was a comforting order that came with being able to predict her partner’s actions.

“Honestly, I think I have to let him try. I figure if it works, great. If it blows up, I’ll either be out of a job, or Tim will give me an opportunity to do what he hired me for.”

“I guess that’ll work,” Nicolas said, sounding distracted. “Listen, I was calling for a reason. When you texted last night saying you couldn’t talk, I thought maybe there was a serious problem. But now I know it was work—”

“Wait, you didn’t call when you thought there was a problem? That doesn’t make sense,” Dylan joked, waiting for Nicolas to join in. After a beat of silence, though, Dylan took a sip of iced tea. “Sorry, go on.”

“It’s just unusual for you to change our schedule. Must be the Seattle air.” On the surface it sounded like a joke, but Nicolas emphasized the word schedule to let her know that he was irritated with her deviation from it. Dylan chafed at his rebuke but let it go in favor of excitement as her food began making its way to her. The sooner her burger arrived, the sooner she could eat instead of talk.

“Anyway, I was calling because I wanted to update you on the case,” Nicolas continued, “and to tell you our shower is doing something odd.”

“Oh.” Better than the toilet.

“So I can’t make it this weekend. But since the case wrapped, I can probably make it in a couple of weeks, before I head into mediation on the next one.”

“Great!” Dylan said, more to the food that was set in front of her than to Nicolas. “I’ll give my parents a heads-up.”

“I don’t think I can take off any extra time, though, so your office will have to find flights from Friday to Sunday.”

“It’s short, but it’ll be fun. I can’t wait for you to see where I grew up,” she said, munching on a bite of burger. Whatever bacon jam was, it was amazing.

“It should be a good time,” Nicolas said in a businesslike tone. “So about the shower. The super—”

“Nicolas, I’m so excited you are coming to visit! But I have to finish up and get to a meeting. Talk to you soon. Love you.” Dylan hung up before he could add anything. If she got off the phone, he would figure it out or bathe in the sink or something.

Sighing, she set the phone down and turned back to her burger. Sure, his visit wouldn’t be for as long as she’d hoped, but relationships were based on compromise, and this was a place to start. They could always come back for the holidays. Glancing at her incoming emails, Dylan rolled her eyes at another check-in message from Jared. Typing out a quick response with her progress (yes, she had met with Tim; yes, they were taking steps), she felt the pressure return like a ton of bricks on her shoulders. Stuffing the phone back in her bag, she thought of a few different ways to relax before heading back to the office, none of which seemed particularly appealing.

Mulling it over after another bite, Dylan instinctively asked herself the question she most dreaded: What would my family do? Picking up a french fry, she turned the idea over in her head. They’d skip work and go play around until a solution to their problem came to them. Dysfunctional as they could be, the idea wasn’t all bad, Dylan reasoned, especially if she could skip school responsibly and come up with the ideas she needed for Technocore.

She wondered if this was wise. At the diner, visiting Crescent Children’s Museum had seemed like a great idea, and Mike sounded genuinely excited she was coming to see the place. Now, standing in front of a formidable-looking structure, she was less sure. The building was old enough that the Washington climate was taking its toll, and bits of moss and lichen had started growing in the cracks between the roof and on the stone steps leading up to the heavy wood doors. Crescent must have been