Page 21 of Love Redesigned
“There’s more than one way to find success,” I said. “His isn’t the most conventional path, but it’s still his. And he’s accomplished a lot, even without a fancy education.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she said with a sigh.
I wondered if she actually believed it. I’d heard Dani talk about her own career. She had a very clear definition of success and it had a lot to do with progress based on merit and hard work, and not things like YouTube views or notoriety. Even convincing her to go to the interview I’d set up for her at LeFranc had been tough. Because she hadn’t “earned” it and didn’t want her path to senior designer tainted by a favor from her boyfriend or even just a stroke of good luck. She would have the job because she deserved it, or not at all.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“I don’t...” She hesitated, her eyes focused somewhere at my feet. “I’m not sure I’m up for talking about why you left New York. But...whyIsaac? It’s not like you’re lacking qualifications. Anyone would have hired you.”
“Anyone would have hired me to keep doing what I was already doing at LeFranc. But I didn’tlikemy job at LeFranc. Isaac offered something different. Plus, I needed a place to stay and the job came with one.”
Her eyes jumped to mine. “You couldn’t go home?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I did, at first. Malorie said I was welcome to stay. But her girls are teenagers now. All they did was giggle whenever I was around.”
My father’s second wife was well-intentioned. She technically lived inmyhouse—the one I’d inherited from my father when he’d passed away a few years back—but Dad’s will stipulated that she and the girls could live in the house until the youngest graduated from the private school he’d also paid for in his will. They’d been happy together; I couldn’t begrudge Dad wanting to take care of Malorie and her girls. Still, the two weeks I’d spent living with them before moving in with Isaac had been long enough.
Dani chuckled. “They still don’t feel like family, huh?”
“Not hardly. And Malorie was...flirty. It was weird.”
“Oh, wow. That’s awkward. She isn’t that much older than you, is she? I can’t remember.”
“Ten years, I think?”
Dani started walking again and I fell in step beside her.
“Is it weird for you? To own a house you can’t live in? I mean, she and your dad were only married for what, three, four years?”
I shrugged. “Seven years. And three of those, Dad was sick. She took care of him better than anybody else could. She probably deserves to live in that house forever.”
Dani pulled my suit coat closer around her. “I remember the night you told me about losing both your parents.” She shook her head. “It still doesn’t seem fair.”
A memory flooded my mind of Dani in my arms, our legs propped up on the coffee table in front of the sofa in my New York apartment. “I remember that night, too. You cried.”
She huffed out a small laugh. “It was a really sad story.”
Losing both parents to cancer within a couple of yearswasa sad story. I was generally used to the sympathy expressed whenever people found out. But Dani had given me more than sympathy. She’d taken a little bit of my sadness and felt it like it was her own. I’d never forgotten how different that felt, how she’d made the burden feel a little lighter for her willingness to help me carry it. “That’s the night I really started to fall in love with you.”
She stopped on the sidewalk, gripping the lamppost beside her. She closed her eyes, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Don’t, Alex,” she said, leaning toward the lamppost, her voice so soft I almost couldn’t hear. “You can’t say things like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
She pushed away from the post and walked down the sidewalk at a good enough clip, it was clear she wanted to put some distance between us. I followed behind, respecting the distance, waiting for her to make the next move.
Finally, she turned around, the fire in her eyes evident even in the dark, across six feet of sidewalk. “So Isaac knew you were back in Charleston because my mom told him about our break-up?”
I nodded. “I think so, yeah.”
“And he just called you up and offered you a job?”
“Basically, yes. He sent me a resume request through LinkedIn.”
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “There are so many weird things about that sentence.”
I grinned. “It felt a little weird to me, too. But I appreciated him trying to keep it professional.”
