“What the hell can’t that guy do?”
“I have no idea and I’m a little scared to find out. His connections can be frighteningly responsive.”
“Looks like I owe him even more thanks.”
“What about me?”
“I thought I’d been thanking you for the past week.” I peppered his jaw with kisses.
“It’s been convincing. But like I said before, I don’t need any thanks. I could do it and you needed it.”
He was so sweet my molars ached. “I did. I’d spent so much time making it mine before…”
His embrace tightened at the unspoken pain of having it ripped away and trashed. Everything was perfect now. The flowers on the table hadn’t even wilted yet.
“What happened to wanting to do interior design?” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
I held Leo’s gaze and slid off his lap. How would things have gone for us if we hadn’t had our run-in? If that hadn’t started off one of the most stressful days I’d ever experienced? Would I have melted into a puddle the first time I saw him, instead of wanting to give him papercuts between each one of his fingers?
His arms tightened around me for a second before he let me go.
“Unpaid internships are required to get your big break. With Tyler in school and student loans, I didn’t have the luxury of spending months or years being underpaid in a job, even if I loved it. There was no one pulling strings for me, so I gave up on that dream and kept my designs to paper and in my head.” I straightened a stack of papers.
He leaned forward, trying to catch my eye. “Let me see them.”
“See what?” I asked, stalling for time. No one had seen the designs. I hadn’t even seen them in over a year. With the destruction Jeannie had rained down on me, thinking about creating beautifully designed spaces while living in a violated hovel hurt too much.
“Your designs. Do you still have them?”
I shrugged. “Unless your movers threw them out.”
“They didn’t take anything that wasn’t broken. Everything should be here.”
The folio I’d shoved everything in had been crammed into a makeshift bookcase made from broken milk crates. Flicking open one of the doors at the bottom of the beautiful cherry wood cabinet, I looked inside.
Beauty had been superimposed over top of my crappy taped together versions.
“Don’t laugh.” I slid the battered edged folio onto the table. “I took inspiration from all over the world. Paris. Spain. London. Tokyo. It’s why they’re so eclectic.”
“You’ve visited all those places?” He didn’t look up, but kept flipping through the pages, spending a couple minutes on each, soaking up the work I’d put into them.
I sat on my hands to keep myself from snatching it back and shoving it under the kitchen sink. “No, I’ve never even been on a plane. But the internet is handy for daydreaming.”
“You’ve never been on a plane? How’s that possible?”
“Everyone can’t hop on a flight and jet set across the country or the globe. Flights. All-inclusive resorts. International travel. Unpaid internships. They all need one thing.”
“Money.” The word was whisper quiet like it threatened our very existence. And it did. They said money didn’t buy happiness, but not having money sure bought a lot of pain.
“Ding, ding, ding.” I rolled my pencil between my hands, the familiar money insecurity rearing its ugly head. My college roommates spending hours searching for the perfect resort and the perfect bathing suit that cost more than I made in a month had never invited me along. Could they smell the sale-brand shampoo and spot my discount-store backpack and notebooks from across the quad? Not everyone at my school had money, but almost everyone seemed to have more than me. Even if they were only taking a week off to go to the beach or hanging out at home—I didn’t have the luxury of either.
“Everyone else went on spring break. I stayed and worked. I figured I’d have the chance when I got older.”
His lips tightened for a flash before he dropped his gaze back to the folio.
“I know nothing about interior design, but every room in here is a place I’d love to hang out.”
“Even the one with the four-poster bed?”
“Can’t I want to be swept off my feet too?”
I shifted in my seat, checking him out from the side of the table. “I’d need a lot more time in the gym to pull that off.”
He laughed. “I have no doubt you could, if you set your mind to it. Determination is your middle name. Do you want ice cream?” He got up and opened the freezer. “Stella gave me some tips on making your favorite.”
“You’re making me ice cream sundaes too? Next time you’re naked, I’m checking your head for a microchip.”
“I can’t help it if I’m just so damn smooth. One scoop or two?” He waved the ice cream scooper at me.
Smooth he was. “Two.”
He grabbed all the sundae supplies I’d somehow missed in my cabinets and got to work.
“How did you ended up working at Easton?” He looked up from the intense study in chocolate fudge pouring.
“The same way I’ve managed to never get on a plane. In college, I’d worked catering jobs. I’d helped organize some events on campus. A little embellishment on my resume, and event planning fit the bill. They had an opening and the pay was enough, so I jumped at the chance. Being choosy or hoping I’d luck into something wasn’t an option. Once I was there, there was barely enough time to breathe, let alone apply for other jobs.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think about you not having a chance to travel.”
I waved off his apology. “I’m used to it. I live such a glamorous life, I can see how you’d be confused.” My attempt at joking didn’t stop the crease in his brow. “I’m overpaid for my experience, as I’ve been told many times before.” Using my thumbs, I smoothed out the ridges of his frown.
“By who?”
I wasn’t saying her name in my place of peace.
He wrapped his hands around my wrists and kissed my knuckles. His lips pressed against the ring he’d slipped on my finger. “Someone at work.”
I nodded.
He set down the mountain of sugar in front of me. “You’re not overpaid. Even someone as inexperienced as I am can see your talent’s wasted there, and your designs are gorgeous. If you want, I could see if some of my old teammates—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “One thing at a time. Let’s get through Friday night. Then you can tell me the whole plan for how I can fix my life—in bed.”
“I’m not trying to railroad you. You deserve more.”
“You thinking that is enough to get me through all the bullshit.” He didn’t understand, but I couldn’t expect him to. Being on my own was my normal. If you didn’t count on anyone else, then no one could let you down. Working with Leo had shown me that maybe there was another way. Maybe I could trust someone else. Maybe I could trust him.
38
Leo