The contractor's Adam's apple bobs.
"Conservatively? We're getting into the millions here, sir. Plus at least six weeks added to the timeline. Maybe eight."
I watch the color drain from Andrew's face.
Then he turns on his heel and walks away without another word. Not to me, not to Frank, not to anyone.
He just storms across the construction site with his shoulders rigid and his hands still clenched into fists.
"Mr. Simon!" Frank calls after him. "Sir, if we could just—"
But it's too late. Andrew's already gone, disappearing through the plastic sheeting and out into the weak February sunlight.
Leaving me standing there with Frank and his crew, my tablet full of notes that suddenly feel completely useless.
"Well," I say into the awkward silence.
———Andrew Pov
"Shit."
I keep it together until I'm out of sight.
Only when I've reached the ground floor and rounded the corner to find a little patch of solace behind Frank's trailer do I stop.
