Friends With Boundaries (That She Keeps Breaking)

—CARLY—

Okay, let’s get one thing straight. Ben from Marketing is sweet. And persistent. Like a puppy who’s been told ‘no’ a hundred times but still thinks this stick is the one you’ll throw.

He was leaning in my office doorway again, looking like he’d practiced his smile in the mirror. “Carly. You’re looking… strategic today.”

I didn’t look up from my screen. “That’s the goal, Ben. What’s up?”

He took it as an invitation and sauntered in. “The new wrench campaign. I wanted your brilliant mind on the tagline. Thought maybe we could brainstorm over drinks later? That new speakeasy under the bridge?”

This was, by my count, attempt number seven. I finally swiveled my chair to face him, giving him my best ‘polite but busy’ face. “Just email it to me. My brain’s pretty much welded to this vendor report until five.”

His smile didn’t even crack. “You say that every time. One day, I’ll find the report that doesn’t have you in its clutches.” He winked. Actually winked. “I’m a patient man.”

I managed a tight smile until he left.

Patient. Right.

The second I heard his footsteps fade, I slumped. It wasn’t him. It was the sheer, soul-crushing boredom of it all. His flirting felt like a script. A bad one.

My phone lit up with a text, cutting through the fog.

Charlie: Seriously. Where is it. The gray one with the faded logo. I know you have it, Dorrington. This is a felony.

A stupid, goofy grin spread across my face. My heart did that dumb little flip it’s been doing since I was six.

See? That.

That right there. A text about a stolen hoodie from two miles away had more effect on my nervous system than a man standing in my office offering drinks.

That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.

Before I could text back a denial, my dad’s assistant buzzed me. “Carly, your parents want to see you in the big office.”

I knew what this was about. The Merger. Capital M. The thing my dad and Uncle Frank have been dreaming about since Charlie and I were in diapers. The official, corporate tying-of-the-knot between Wayne Construction and Dorrington Mechanics.

I pushed my dad’s office door open. “You bellowed?”

My dad sat behind his monolithic desk, looking more like a general than a CEO. My mother, Lucia, was perched elegantly on the leather sofa by the window, a cup of tea in hand. She gave me a small, knowing smile that immediately put me on alert. Mom’s smiles were like weather radar; they told you what storm was coming.

“Sit, Carly,” Dad said, not looking up from a document. “We need to finalize the timeline for the merger integration teams.”

I dropped into the chair. “My team’s models aren’t done. If we change the branding that fast, we’ll freak out all the old-school truckers who keep us in business.”

“The branding is secondary,” he said, finally looking at me. “This is about unity. One vision.”

I felt my shoulders creep up to my ears. Here we go. “One vision is great. A panicked vision costs money.”

“Sometimes speed is the vision, honey,” Mom said, her voice like calm honey. “A quick, clean merger shows strength. To everyone.” She took a sip. “Especially the Waynes.”

And there it was. The real deal. This wasn’t just about wrenches and concrete. It was about family. Their dream of officially stitching the Dorringtons and the Waynes together like some corporate quilt.

My dad leaned back. “This is the next logical step. The final knot.”

The final knot.

The words just hung there.And for a second, I saw it all—endless board meetings with Charlie, our dads grinning like madmen, this huge, golden cage of expectations slowly closing around us.

Then, a wild thought hit me so hard I almost laughed.

This is it. This is my perfect excuse.

While they’re all obsessed with merging the companies, I can focus on my own personal merger project. One heart. One very specific, stupidly handsome, completely oblivious heart. All I needed was to get close. And what’s a better reason to move into your best friend’s place than dramatic family fallout?

Dad took my stunned silence as a yes. “Good. I’ll have the memo sent. We announce next month...”

“No.”

The word just came out. Quiet, but it shut the whole room down.

“I’m not doing it,” I said, standing up. The plan clicked into place, smooth and terrifying. I needed a fight. A big one. “Rushing this is a bad idea. It screws my team and it treats me like an intern, not the Head of Strategy.”

Dad’s face went red. “This isn’t a request, Carly. This is the direction the company.”

“Of our company!” I shot back, tuning the frustration all the way up to eleven. “I’ve worked here my whole life! And you want to torpedo my work so you and Uncle Frank can play Best Friends Forever with a billion-dollar balance sheet?”

“That’s enough,” he roared.

“You’re right,” I said, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. This was it. The exit. “It is enough. If my professional opinion means nothing, if this is just about playing happy family with the Waynes, then I can’t be here."

I turned and headed for the door.

“Carly Anne, you walk out that door and—” Dad started.

“Robert.” Mom’s voice, like a single soft knife, cut him off.

I glanced back. She was just looking at me. She didn’t look mad. She looked… knowing. Like she could see right through my brilliant, desperate plan. She just sipped her tea and said nothing.

I walked out. I didn’t grab my stuff. I didn’t talk to anyone. I just got in my car and drove straight to Charlie’s loft, my heart pounding a wild, hopeful rhythm against my ribs.

My phone rang. It was Emilia, my best friend since college and the keeper of all my secrets, most of them about a certain six-foot-two commitment-phobe.

“Talk. Your mom sent me the prayer hands emoji. What did you do?”

I let out a shaky breath that was part performance, part very real adrenaline. “I just nuked my relationship with my dad. Over the merger."

“Oh, honey. Do you need wine? I have wine. And that terrible reality TV you love.”

“Not tonight,” I said, a real smile touching my lips as I turned onto Charlie’s street. “I’m going to crash at Charlie’s for a bit. Just… need some space from the Dorrington drama.”

The silence was so deep I could hear her thinking. Then, a slow, knowing laugh. “Oh. My. God. You magnificent, devious bitch. This is a play, isn’t it?”

“Emilia, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice all innocence. “I’m a heartbroken daughter seeking solace with her oldest, dearest friend.”

“You’re seeking something alright,” she snorted. “Okay, Special Ops. Go get him. And call me tomorrow. I want every detail.”

I hung up, grabbed the suitcase I’d totally coincidentally packed last night, and looked up at his building.

No more watching from the sidelines. No more Ben’s with their boring scripts. No more hoping.

It was time to get strategic.

The corporate merger could wait. I had a much more important heart to merge with first.

---

To be continued...