Authors: Grace Henderson
“Hey,” she says breathlessly, sitting on a barstool in front of me. “Can I have a tap water please?”
“Coming right up.” I turn the tap on, fill the glass and hand it over to her. “Thanks for helping out earlier. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, no problem. It was so much fun. I think I’ve found another career if I ever get bored with wedding dresses.” I smile, and serve another customer before turning back to her.
“I think we need to talk about earlier. Do you wanna come through?” I gesture to the back and she swallows her gulp of water before nodding and walking round the side. I call one of the team over to keep an eye on the bar then walk down the stairs behind her.
My office is just a small room off the corridor with a desk and chair on the right hand side and a sofa on the left. Laurel perches on the edge of the desk so I do the same and fold my arms in front.
“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a good conversation? Arms folded in front is always a defensive move,” she says nervously and all I want to do is have her in my arms.
I laugh and unfold my arms leaning back on my hands. I watch her fiddling with a ruffle on her dress, whilst she gathers her thoughts. After a silent pause she gets up and starts to pace the floor.
“Hey,” I reach over and grab her arm, pulling her over to me so she’s standing in between my legs, “I like you, Laurel.”
“I like y-“
“I know, you like me too. But you also have feelings for someone else, and I think you need to work that out before we try to take this anywhere. You’re my friend, and that’s not going to change. But he likes you too, so as much as I don’t want to say it, you both need to sort yourselves out first.”
“I don’t think we’re talking about the same person Ryan.”
“We are. James is a dick sometimes, but I could tell by the look on his face when he saw us earlier, he wants you. And he hasn’t stopped looking at you all night. Not that I blame him, you look gorgeous.”
She smiles and nudges my shoulder, “Thanks, you look pretty good yourself y’know. Every woman in here wants you tonight.”
“Well I’m glad you know what you’re missing out on.” I wrap my arms around her and she relaxes into them.
“I do. I really do.”
“But it’s not enough?” It comes out like a question, but I know it’s not enough because I started this conversation, and now it’s obvious her heart is somewhere else.
“You’re right. I do like him, and it wouldn’t be fair to you if we started something.” Tears start to fall and she buries her head in my shoulder. “You’re so great, Ryan. You’re going to make a girl very, very happy.”
Just not this girl.
She pulls back and I bring my hand up to wipe her tears away with my thumb. Seeing her cry is like someone just punched me in the stomach. She kisses me chastely and I can taste the saltiness of the tears still falling.
“I better go,” she whispers against my lips. It seems so final and it’s times like these that I wish I was more of a selfish bastard.
“No more tears, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.” She nods and gives a small smile as she walks out the door. I’ve sent her off into the arms of another man, who the hell does that? Something snaps inside me that makes me reach for the nearest thing I can find, a coffee mug, and throw it at the wall.
Chapter Eight
James
Saturday night was a night I never wish to repeat. Seeing Laurel and Murphy kissing and flirting and joking around was too much to handle. All I wanted to do was pull her into me and kiss his name right out her head. So Monday comes and I vow to put myself on the charm offensive. We have a meeting scheduled, at my house of all places, so I need to do some recon and find out what’s happening between them. I’m going to blow my top if they’re actually together.
Six p.m. on the dot and I’m standing in my hallway staring at the front door like a teenage girl waiting for her prom date. Even though I’m right there, when the bell rings I count to ten before answering. I can’t appear to be over-eager.
“Hey, come on in.” She’s looking effortlessly beautiful today in a black dress and heels, and as she passes I do a really creepy thing and smell her. And it’s incredible; like strawberries and roses.
“Hi. Thanks. How are you?” She smiles, and shifts awkwardly between her feet.
“I’m good, thanks. Did you have a good night Saturday?” When I see her face drop I scold myself for being such a jerk. I don’t know what’s happening between them yet so I can’t blow this.
“Yeah it was good, Jen enjoyed herself so that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah. Do you want to come through?” I start walking through to the kitchen and gesture for her to follow. I should have been working today but I’ve spent the afternoon cleaning and tidying up; the last thing I want is for her to think I’m some kind of slob. The kitchen is what attracted me to this house, it’s large with a big island in the middle. The cabinets are cream with solid oak worktops, and I like the homely, country feel it gives off. All the appliances are integrated and there’s plenty of cupboard space so it looks minimalistic. There’s also room at the end for a table and chairs so I bought a solid oak six-seater. When I lived with my parents, we had the same kind of kitchen so it always reminds me of mum.
“Wow, this is amazing. I’ve always wondered what your house looks like inside.” Her eyes meet mine, then she quickly looks away as though she’s embarrassed by what she’s just said but she recovers from it well. “I mean, I’ve always thought it would be interesting to see inside the house of an interior designer. And you’re the only one I know.” She shrugs indifferently and I smile and nod an understanding, even though I don’t understand. So she’s been thinking about seeing inside my house, so has she been thinking about me?
“Do you want a drink?”
I also went shopping and bought the drinks I know she likes. As if she didn’t have a big enough hold over me already, I’m now running around to please her and I can’t even tell her. I’ve bought wine, Chardonnay, because she drinks it all the time when we’re out; Tequila, because that’s her shot whenever she’s in the mood; Sprite, in case she’s not feeling alcohol and coffee, even though I don’t ever drink that shit. If we were together I’d call myself whipped but we’re not so I don’t know what the hell I am.
“Yeah that would be great. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”
“Well I’m having a beer.” I look at her trying to hide a laugh because I know she hates beer. She wrinkles her nose which is cute as hell and replies slowly, “Yeah that’s fine,” as though she’s just realised what she’s agreeing to.
I can’t hide it anymore, I burst out laughing. “Surely you know me well enough now not to just be polite. I’ve got wine?”
She breathes a sigh of relief and nods animatedly, “Yes thank you.”
I pour out the wine and hand the glass to her. She sips slowly, and frowns when she lets the liquid hit the back of her throat. Her eyes meet mine and she tilts her head questioningly, “Yellow Tail?”
I shrug, realising that she’s a big wine drinker and of course she would know what her favourite wine tastes like.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you drink it before so it made it an easy choice in Tesco.” Shit, way to be subtle. I’ve got her favourite wine, that’s like declaring love to a woman.
The corners of her mouth pull up in a smile and it was definitely worth it. We head out the kitchen and I give her a brief tour of the house before we walk into my office which is upstairs on the second floor. I like the fact it’s upstairs and out the way, so that when I finish work I have a better chance of switching off completely. I like space, to move and to breathe, so it’s a big room with a large desk and a seating area in front of the window. The wall behind the desk is covered in shelving and books, and there’s an easel in the corner because sometimes I find it easier to sketch plans using that instead of having them flat on the desk.
“So this is where the magic happens, huh?” She teases, and if I hadn’t have just seen her with Murphy at the weekend I swear I’d think she was flirting with me. It must be the wine that’s relaxed her.
“No babe, that’s the bedroom across the hall.”
I see her eyes roll, but she’s still smiling. If she had a boyfriend, surely that comment would bother her? She’s not giving off the attached vibe, but then it could just be wishful thinking on my part.
She walks further into the room. It’s my personal space, my sanctuary, and no-one’s ever been here before apart from Blake and my dad. When I bought the house Blake did a few adjustments for me and one of them was taking the wall away from the back of this room and fitting the floor-to-ceiling glass. There are fields and parkland at the back of the house, so I thought I may as well take full advantage of it; my desk is facing it too.
She whistles her appreciation and walks right over to the window to look out, “If I had that view, you wouldn’t be able to drag me away from work.”
“Yeah it makes it a lot easier to find the motivation. But sometimes I catch myself just staring at it. Not very productive.”
She looks back over at me and perches on the edge of the sofa, “So what makes a guy like you become a designer?”
“A guy like me? What does that mean?”
Her cheeks flush; she looks embarrassed, and I know she’s struggling to reword that sentence. I get what she means, girls say it to me all the time. They think it’s a girly job, because how a straight guy could have a good eye for design, or colour or fabric is beyond them. But then I don’t usually hang around with the sharpest tools in the shed.
Her eyes widen; she flicks her eyes around quickly like she’s going to suddenly find that shovel she’s hoping for, “I…um…I just mean it’s not a typical guy job? I think…er…”
“Stop, I’m just playing around. I know what you mean.” I start laughing as relief washes over her, and she shakes her head.
“You’re so mean. I really thought I was going to offend you.”
“Nah, I’ve had it before. Interior design wasn’t something I even thought about until I was around fifteen. My mum died of cancer. She was sick for a little while. She loved to paint, so I painted with her, and I realised I was actually a lot more artistic than I thought. When she died, I was in a bad way and after a while my dad told me to redesign my room. I think he just wanted to keep me busy, but I gave it a complete overhaul, with his help, and got attached. Things were exactly as I planned out, it gave me control and an escape. Then I did most of the other rooms in the house. Ever since then I’ve been designing things. I went to uni and studied architecture but I’ve been doing interiors for a while now.”
I hardly ever talk about my reasons for starting up in design, because girls always get that glazed teary look and start to feel sorry for me but I don’t want that. I don’t remember her with sadness anymore; I know she’s in a better place and she’s free from the pain she was going through with her cancer. I look to Laurel and she doesn’t have that look. She’s smiling, and it’s such a different response to what I’m used to that it takes me by complete surprise.
“I love that. Now in everything you do, you’ll remember her. I feel the same way about my dad. He died four years ago and he always thought I was destined for great things. He said I was too stubborn to work for someone else and I should start my own business and do things my own way. Now I’m always reminded of him.”
I take a swig of my beer. That was completely unexpected, and it hits me in the chest that I’ve come across someone who feels the same as I do. It’s always a serious subject with other people; I just know how my mum would want me to feel, and that’s happy. Happy that we had such an awesome time together and happy she’s in a good place.
“Where’s your dad?” Her voice asks softly.
“He didn’t deal well, and as soon as I went to uni he packed up and moved to Spain, but we still talk a lot. He had some friends out there, I think he’s much happier now.”
Silence fills the room, but it’s not awkward, I feel like I can relax more in her presence now. It doesn’t have to be full of mindless chatter. I get up and extend my hand out to take her empty glass, “Refill?”
“Yes please.”
I walk back into the room and find her sitting in the chair at the desk looking at the plans I’ve laid out. I place the glass and beer bottle on the desk and walk round the back of her. I hear her suck in a sharp breath as I lower myself closer behind her with one hand resting beside hers, and my nostrils fill with the scent of strawberries. It’s a struggle to get the words out, I’m staring at the hair on the top of her head and I just want to reach out and run my fingers through it, but thankfully, common decency stops me; she’d think I was a creep.
I clear my throat and try to take my mind off of all the things I want to do to her, “So, you must have some changes you’d like for the final plans?”
“Yeah, just a couple though. I went through the plans with my mum and she helped. What you did was fantastic.”
“Cool so let’s go through them now.” I move another chair over and we go into more detail, changing a few fabrics, and expanding the fitting room area and adding in more storage. It takes another hour or so before we’re done; they’re not huge changes so I should be able to get them done by the end of the week.
“Happy?” I ask, leaning back in the chair.
“Very. It’s going to be amazing.”
“Any idea on where you’re going to get the money from? Are you gonna apply to the bank?”
“Um, I actually have something else in the pipeline, an investment opportunity, but I can’t say any more than that until it’s finalised.”
“Wow, congratulations. I hope it works out for you. If you need any help just let me know.”
She smiles and I can see the excitement in her eyes. “Thanks. You’ve done enough though. Honestly, this is great.”
“I’ve told you before. I’ll help as much as you want or need.” My hand reaches out to cover hers and something crackles between us, some kind of electricity that jumps between our entwined hands and I only just about manage to stop myself from reaching up to stroke her cheek.