"Key Biscayne. South Pointe is second."

"Fine. I'll keep it in mind."

Daichi watched Deena, his scowl deepening each time she picked through her food. "Why don't you just have them omit the peanuts?" he demanded impatiently. "Why do you always go to such trouble?"

He swiveled out to the fridge behind his desk, grabbed two bottles of Perrier and handed one to Deena. Behind him, open blinds revealed the city skyline and the ocean just beyond, enveloped in darkness.

"Because you like peanuts. Whenever we have Thai you get extra."

He softened. "Peanuts are an excellent source of protein. You shouldn't omit them from your diet without careful consideration."

Deena rolled her eyes. "I like peanuts fine. Just not with my chicken."

Daichi took a sip of imported water before returning to his carton for more pad thai.

"Have you seen the latest copy of Issues in Design? There's an excellent article on the benefits of beach nourishment," he said after several moments. Beach nourishment was the replacement of sand lost through erosion.

"I read it," Deena said.

"And your thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts." She looked up. "It's a risky enterprise. When improperly done it has a drastic impact on the ecosystem. Even when properly done the rate of erosion is obscene. The article skirted that. It read like propaganda."

Daichi grinned. "But you must realize the advantages. You live on a stretch of beach that has benefited from just such a practice. There's ample research to indicate that the breadth of a beach has a direct impact on storm surges and-"

Deena waved a dismissive hand. "I know the research. And as always, you speak in absolutes."

"Absolutes?"

"Yes. As if there are no alternatives," she said dryly.

His smile widened. "Like revetments."

"Exactly."

Deena maneuvered more pad thai into her mouth with chopsticks. "Beach nourishment is a commercial enterprise fueled by the tourism industry and it needs to be presented as such. Don't tell me about the benefits during a hurricane when the real issue is the benefit during tourist season."

She chased her food with a gulp of water. "By the way, I can't stay late tonight."

"No?" A flash of disappointment crossed his face.

"I'm going to a baseball game tomorrow. It's a long drive. Five hours. And though it sounds trivial, it's really important that I be there."

After all, she thought, it wasn't everyday that Kenji made it to the state championships.

Daichi eyed her carefully. "There's work to be done."

"There's always work to be done. And I always do it," Deena said.

Daichi shrugged as if conceding the point.

"You must be quite the fan," he said finally. "I never would've envisioned it. You, among the drunkards, perhaps in a smart past of slacks, reveling in America's favorite pastime."

Deena smiled. "Not so much. I'm a fan of one player, in particular." As an afterthought she nearly added, your son.

These were the cracks in the dam, when her reverence for Daichi battled the reality of him being a s.h.i.tty father. Before her disappoint could leak through however, her phone rang. She fished it out her briefcase and answered.

"Hey there, sweet cheeks. Dad still holding you hostage?"

It was just past 7 p.m., and a Friday night.

Deena smiled. "Yeah. Sort of. I don't know how much longer I'll be. We're just now eating."

"Tell him I said not to make you wait so long. You know you get those headaches when he overworks you."

"I'll do no such thing," Deena laughed. She glanced at Daichi, who scanned her briefings with a frown.

"Listen, I'll catch a cab to your place and let myself in."

"At which point you'll tie me to the bed and overpower me with rough hot s.e.x, right?"

Deena laughed. "Riiiight."

"So say it."

"I will not!"

"Repeat after me. Say, 'I'm sorry Daichi but I have to go f.u.c.k your son now."

A shriek of laughter escaped Deena and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Out the corner of her eye she caught Daichi staring. "I'm hanging up. You're making me look like a fool."

"Fine. I'll see you when you get off. Try not to make it midnight again. We leave early tomorrow."

"Yes, Ta-," she froze with the slip and was met by Tak's laughter. "Don't be so thrilled," she said instead. "I'll see you soon."

She turned off the phone and looked up.

"Boyfriend?" Daichi guessed.

"Yes, sir."

"Not surprising. You're attractive enough." He returned to his food. "Has he been with you since the start of the project?"

Deena nodded. He frowned as if thinking this over.

"It's a difficult endeavor, you know, balancing professional ambitions and personal entanglements. Some of us are less successful than others."

Deena shifted; her eyes careful on Daichi's cluttered desk. He had no idea just how well she'd been versed on his personal shortcomings.

"You know, you don't strike me as the sort of woman satisfied with the trappings of mediocrity," Daichi suddenly said.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"The trappings of mediocrity. Commonness, if you will. I strain to envision a Deena Hammond satisfied with a subservient role as wife and mother."

She raised a brow. "When I become a wife and mother my role will be as equal, not subordinate."

Daichi shrugged. "Perhaps. But do you suppose you might find happiness in a life weighted with the roles of mother, wife and career woman? These are not complimentary responsibilities. Often, you'll find that your success as an architect will be at the expense of your duties as wife and mother. Perhaps even now you can see it in your shortcomings as a romantic interest."

Deena paused, thinking of Tak's warning not to arrive at midnight once again.

"My boyfriend's very understanding. His father is...a successful businessman. He knows the demands."

Daichi watched her. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat.

"Make your choices wisely, Deena." He toyed with a weighty gold pen emblazoned with his signature, eyes trained on it and not her.

"Too often, it appears beneficial to sacrifice leisure for career, family for success. I, more than anyone, am guilty of this transgression." He looked up.

"One cannot succeed in one regard, without failing in another. Time and People call me the face and future of architecture but my wife and sons call me a stranger."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

Before New York, Tak and Deena spent each evening together, and after, each night. Sometimes, Deena would watch Tak's work unravel on canvas, other times it was her who brought the office home-frowning over drafts or fussing over notes. Most evenings they were content to walk along the sh.o.r.e, brooding over nothing, over everything. They would whittle away their time, cooking elaborate and sometimes disastrous meals, musings really of what they thought they had at a Mexican or Thai, Italian or French restaurant, just days prior. And the weekends, why, Deena's weekends were chock full now, Sat.u.r.day nights at a club, Sunday afternoons sailing, and Kenji's baseball games, whenever they happened. Nowhere in the mix was her family, and for that, Deena was grateful.

When Deena let herself into Tak's place, it just before nine. In one hand was leftover pad thai, which was promptly taken from her with a kiss on the cheek by Kenji; and in the other, her purse and briefcase, lifted and tossed aside by Tak. He greeted her with a warm and lingering kiss before following Kenji into the kitchen to help dispose of their father's take-out.

As Deena stretched out on the couch, pumps discarded, the Tanaka brothers joined her, two heaping plates of pad thai in tow.

"So, what did you guys go over?" Kenji asked as he took a seat.

Deena shrugged. "Oh, the usual. The vision for Skylife-my vision, his vision, the investor's vision. How we can all be happy and stay within budget." She gave a tired laugh before turning to Tak.

"Did you get much done today?"

"Some. Not much. Mostly just bulls.h.i.tted with Kenji."

His kid brother grinned. "By that he means practiced the drums."

Tak shot him an impatient look. "If you could call that practice. Seemed more like a tutorial to me. Apparently all of us were on a month long vacation."

Kenji blushed. "So, um, Deena? The project's going good then?"

"Very," Deena tried not to smile.

"And working with my dad? Being around him? That's okay, too?"

"Surprisingly."

Kenji frowned. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?" Deena asked, stifling a yawn.

"Being around him. I mean, what's he like?"

Deena froze with the realization of what he was asking her.

Tak got up, sat down his plate, went into his bedroom and slammed the door. Kenji watched him before turning back to her.

"Did I do something?"

Deena shook her head. "No, of course not." She glanced at Tak's closed door then back at Kenji, deciding Tak would have to wait.

"You-you wanted to know about your father?"

He nodded. "Is he, like, angry all the time with you, the way he is with me?"

Deena blinked. "What makes you think he's angry with you?"

Kenji shrugged. "I can tell. I don't see him much, and even when I do see him, he doesn't look glad to see me. Sometimes he calls me names."

"Names? Like what?"

"One time he called me a mute, because I never talk around him. But I just don't know what to say." Kenji paused. "Did you know that he didn't want me?" He glanced at Tak's door cautiously.

"Kenji! Why would say something so horrible?"

"Cause it's true."

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"I overheard him once. He said that it was irresponsible for them to have a second child since he's gone all the time and mom's a drunk. He said that they took the proper precautions and he didn't see how it could happen."

Deena cringed. "He still loves you, Kenji."

"Love me?" Kenji snorted. "He doesn't even like me. I've said more to you in this conversation than I have to my dad in the last twelve months."

"I know it's hard, but-"

"Hard? I never see my dad. How much worse does it get?"