Page 16 of I Choose You
“Okay.” Luke was using his de-escalation voice that he’d learned from his years on the force. He looked around theroom. The family table that used to hold everyone just fine was full now that Jane was in a high chair rather than being held on someone’s lap and Sebastian had joined us. “Here. Sit down. I’ll make you a plate.”
Luke moved to give her his seat, but my good mood from earlier had vanished, thanks to Kayleigh getting in my head. I wasn’t sure what was worse, living in a shit relationship like Luke or thinking what you had was real, only to be blindsided that it wasn’t.
“I’m going to take off, actually. Thanks for dinner, Dad.” I held out my chair for Juliet.
“You don’t have to leave, man. I was done eating anyway.” Luke was also up from his chair, offering it to Juliet.
“No, I have work to do. Get things in order for next week and shit,” I said. “Have a good night.” I nodded my goodbyes, pausing to kiss Jane on the head, and left.
I took the long way home, hoping a drive would clear my head a bit. As I drove past the Cove’s End Motel, I thought I saw Claire’s car parked in front of a door that was probably supposed to be white at one time but was now stained yellow and rusting.
I shook my head. Yeah, right. Like Claire DeLuca would be caught dead in a shithole like that.
It crossed my mind to text her, maybe see if she wanted to grab a drink or something, but I didn’t. She was already shocked every time I wasn’t a complete dick to her. If we hung out tonight, I would put us right back to square one with my shitty mood. I drove home instead, my thoughts a swirling mess of confusion as I tried, and failed, not to compare Kayleigh to Juliet to Claire.
6
Claire
My office was trashed. Papers and sample pieces littered the floor in various piles. Reid and I had been trying to decide what the lighting fixtures would look like. We both agreed that we needed chandeliers in the vestibule and down the main aisle. What those chandeliers would look like was another story.
“This combination looks like my niece put it together,” Reid said. “And she’s six months old.”
“Okay, fine. That’s out. Which one do you like, Mr. Designer?”
He tapped the collection with the chunky metal globe paired with thick steel railings and dark-stained floors.
I was already shaking my head before he even looked at me. “What? What’s wrong with this one? It’s classic, it’s historical… it’s perfect.”
“It’s too masculine.” His head snapped to mine, and I swore I saw fear in his eyes. Laughing, I continued. “I’m not saying I want fluffy pink light fixtures, relax. But it does need to have softer touches.” I pointed to the fanned-out stack of papersthat showcased my favorite combination, carefully stepping over the other options like a game of hopscotch. “This one. The framing is more delicate, the design has more movement to it with the curved arms, and the railing is thinner, more discreet.”
“That chandelier is going to get lost in that big space. It’ll look ridiculous.”
We had been going around in circles on this very topic for days. The light fixtures needed to be ordered ASAP. They were all being custom-built by an artisan in California, and we were running out of time to get them manufactured, shipped, and installed within the deadline.
My phone rang where it sat on my desk. Reid was a lot closer to it than I was, so I asked him to look at it and tell me who was calling.
“Andrew Hassell. You want it?”
Ugh. My boss… again. I had been sending him my report every day, just like he asked, but he still called me most days to go over where we stood with the project. Which was fine, except he never once mentioned anything I had written in my report. I just had to rehash it all.
Reid tossed my phone to me so that I wouldn’t miss the call as I tried to pick my way across the mess.
“Andrew, hi.”
“Claire, where are your designs for the entryway? I told you I needed them this morning,” he snapped without so much as a greeting.
“Oh, I thought the meeting was at 10:00 a.m. I have them prepared to present and also sent them along in the nightly report about a week ago.”
“Send them to me now, Claire. I can’t be wasting time goingthrough every one of your emails trying to find the damn thing. And you won’t be presenting this. I will.”
“Of course. Not a problem. I’ll send them right over.” I swallowed down my disappointment. It was easy to get caught up in the details of the project, working side by side with Reid on decision-making, and forget that this wasn’t my company. Andrew had every right to present this to the customer. He was the one they’d contracted with; I was just the designer assigned to the project.
Andrew had hung up, so I pocketed my phone and made my way back to my desk.
“We are not done with this conversation,” I told Reid. “I just need to send something to Andrew real fast, then we can finish hashing this out.”
“You should be presenting this project. You’re the one who’s done all the work on it. Who does he think he is?” Reid scowled at me, his eyes dark and angry. My heart beat a little faster at the thought of him being incensed on my behalf.
