Page 7 of I Choose You
“What happens tomorrow?” I asked. I had a feeling I knew where this was going, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Some uppity broad from Connecticut is coming in to oversee all of the design. I don’t mean the window drapes and shit. That would be fine. But no, she’s going to have her hand in the flooring, plastering techniques, architecture, stair design, railings. Everything. Every decision I make is going to be questioned and changed by this woman who had never stepped foot in the Delano Library while it was operational. Who has no idea what it actually looked like, what it felt like to be in there. Have you ever been in there?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Fuck, it was so cool. Even as a kid, or maybe because I was a kid. It felt like you were in another world.” His voice became wistful, and his eyes held a faraway glint. It only lasted a second before he returned to his angry rant. “That project needs someone who understands that, not some fucking nerd who’s going to get hung up on every little detail and miss the big picture.”
I nodded in understanding but otherwise stayed quiet. I knew he wasn’t looking forward to me being involved in this project, but I wasn’t expecting just how angry he was by it. I figured we could work together, come up with great ideas, be another set of eyes to make sure everything was up to par.This was going to be a long eight months, of that I had no doubt.
After his tirade was over, he turned back to face forward and waited for his food silently. He didn’t move his seat back down a spot, even after he got his food. We sat side by side for another twenty minutes, each eating our food and sipping our drinks.
I paid the bill and started to get up to leave.
“Hey,” Reid stopped me. “Sorry for unloading on you earlier. I’m not always a grumpy asshole, although my family might tell you different.” He scratched at his jaw where his five-o’clock shadow was growing in. He looked up at me, and our eyes locked. My heart rate sped up, my breath quickening.
Well, that wouldn’t do. Not only was he definitely a lot younger than me, but he also hated me on principle. Sure, he was attractive. But did my body have to react like that?
“No worries. It was actually really… insightful,” I responded with a smile. “It was nice to meet you, Reid.”
Back in my room at the motel, I dug through my suitcase for a sleep set and my toiletries. Unpacking seemed pretty useless. I was sure Andrew would set me up in a better hotel when I talked to him in the morning. Plus, I couldn’t imagine putting my clothes in that dresser. Nothing about this place made me want to get comfortable or settled in.
I changed into pajamas and brushed my teeth. The water wasn’t brown, so that was positive. Shaking my arms and legs out, I channeled my positive energy. Reid’s bad attitude wasn’t going to worm its way into my head.
I control my emotions.
I could either let negativity take up space in my mind and soul, or I could radiate positivity.
Sitting cross-legged on the mattress with my eyes closed, I took a nice, deep breath in and held it. Six, five, four, three, two, one, and exhale. And repeat.
The bed quilt beneath me was rough and itchy. My shoulders were tense and tight, which may have been from the drive or, more likely, from listening to Reid drag me through the proverbial mud.
Breathing. In and out.
Was he going to be a problem for the duration of the construction? Would we be able to come to some sort of working relationship? I was sure we could. I was easy to get along with, and I could handle a lot of bad attitude before I let it get me down.
Breathing. Focus on the inhale… and the exhale.
Uck. This quilt had seen better days. I hoped the bedsheets weren’t in the same shape. And what was up with the smell of potatoes?
I opened my eyes. This meditation was a bust.
3
Reid
The rain was still coming down. The temperature wouldn’t have been bad, but with my clothes absolutely soaked through, the cold was bone-deep.
I woke up in a bad mood this morning—no surprise there—and the weather wasn’t helping. My team was cleaning out all of the furniture and decor that was left in the library after it closed. Anything salvageable, we were storing in one of the library rooms; everything else was getting thrown in the dumpster out front.
That meant a lot of trips in and out of the building.
As I exited the building with my current haul, a collection of broken chairs, a silver Audi SUV pulled up out front. The woman from the bar last night stepped out and ran down the walkway toward the entrance. She looked at me with a smile as the rain pelted her.
My hackles rose, my intuition firing off warning bells in my mind. I disposed of the broken chairs and met her in the Delano Library entryway.
“Hey,” I started. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t realizeI was staring, but the sound of a throat clearing behind me had me turning my head. With his arms loaded with pieces of broken furniture, Dale, one of my workers, used his chin to point to the door that we were blocking.
I placed my hand on her arm to move us a few feet away, but Dale put his load down and walked over to us.
