Chapter 21 #2
I scrunch my nose at the formality of my name, earning a small laugh from her. “It feels like I’m being praised by my therapist when you call me that. Kaden will do just fine.”
“I’m just teasing you.”
“Oh, I know.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
Our eyes hold, lingering a beat too long, and if I’m not mistaken, she flashes me what I think might be a flirty grin. Something inside me instantly heats up at the sight of her gorgeous smile.
I clear my throat, needing to redirect my thoughts elsewhere. “We’ll grab the plants from the truck and head up.”
“Good idea.”
We walk into the basement parking in easy silence, then unload the plants from the back of the truck, taking the elevator up to the fourth floor.
Our arms are laden with pots of all sizes, and even though I’m carrying the larger, heavier ones, I keep my eyes on her the entire time, ready to step in if it becomes too much for her.
She manages to make it to my door without any assistance, and judging by the expression on her face, she doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about the short trip.
I set one of the pots down at my feet, then reach into my back pocket for my keys and unlock the door.
“I should apologise in advance for the slight mess,” I quickly warn her. “I’ve been working on a few projects, so the place might look like a construction zone at the moment.”
“I’m sure it’s not half as bad as the current state of my son’s room,” she quips.
I chuckle, giving a brief nod before opening the door and gesturing her inside.
“Ladies first.”
After she steps inside, I grab the pot from the floor and follow her in, nudging the door shut with my foot.
Setting the plants on the ground by the door, I watch as she slowly surveys the open living space, her gaze roaming from one corner to the next as she quietly takes it all in.
Then, without any prompting from me, she carefully sets the plants and her bag down on the kitchen island and wanders over to the dining table, her movements unrushed and curious.
“Wow,” she whispers, her fingers gliding over the smooth surface.
My chest swells with pride as I watch her admire the craftsmanship of the dining table I had built. A small smile curves her lips as she places her other hand on the table top, spreading her fingers as though she’s marvelling at the feel of the grain beneath her skin.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says, awe and intrigue coating her voice. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s handmade.” I tell her, my gaze sweeping across the black marble epoxy resin embedded into the solid oak wood, its sleek, glossy finish giving the table a bold, luxurious edge. “I built it myself.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
I shake my head slowly and her jaw practically drops to the floor.
“You actually made this?” she asks, dumbfounded.
I nod. “I did. Down to the black iron legs that’s holding it up.”
“Kaden, how are you not making a career out of this?” she blurts, the pitch of her voice rising ever so slightly on the last word.
“I’ve been thinking about it lately,” I reply. “But I’d need a proper business plan before I can invest in this full-time. Because like you said, I’ve got bills to pay.” I flash her a one-sided grin.
“Touché. But just so you know—people would be lining up for your designs.”
“Careful, Hope. You’re dangerously feeding my ego right now.”
She laughs softly, and that mesmerising smile of hers sends a warm flutter through my stomach.
“I’m just speaking the truth. A lot of people would love to get their hands on a piece like this.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say that. I made the coffee table in a similar design, only it’s circular and not rectangular.”
She whirls her head around so quickly, I’m surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash.
Her eyes lock onto the coffee table in the living room, and strides over to inspect it. She sinks into the couch across from the table and smooths a palm over the shiny surface, shaking her head in disbelief.
“This is amazing! It’s so unique, and it fits perfectly with everything,” she says, glancing around the room. Her eyes land on the built-in shelves and TV unit, and she raises a brow. “Let me guess—you built that too?” She gestures towards the wall unit.
“You guessed correct.”
“Shut. The. Front. Door!”
Her wide-eyed expression and high-pitched voice have me chuckling loudly.
I’ve never seen anyone react like that to something I made.
I used to craft little things for my mother all the time when I was younger, and even she never responded with the same kind of awe and enthusiasm that Hope just did.
“I’m in a state of total shock right now. I think I might need a minute.”
“Okay,” I laugh, shaking my head. “While you do that, can I offer you something to drink?”
“I’ll just take a water, thanks.”
I nod and head straight to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water—one for her, one for me. I hand hers over, and she accepts it eagerly, twisting off the cap and gulping down a generous amount, as if she’s been dying of thirst this whole time.
“Who knew you were hiding such an impressive talent? How long have you been designing and building furniture?”
I ease into the armchair across from her and set my water bottle on the coffee table.
“It started in high school, when I studied woodwork. I wasn’t as skilled back then of course. That takes time and a lot of practice. I stopped for a while because life just got in the way. I kind of surprised myself with how much I still remember.”
“Why didn’t you make a living out of it after you finished high school? From what I can see, you’d definitely have a lot of people interested in buying them.”
“I didn’t really know what the job prospects were like in that field or the demand for such products, and being so young, I was just eager to make money.
So I took the first job I was ever offered—a barista position at a small German café.
If you’re wondering if I have any other hidden talents—I make a mean macchiato and mocha latte. ”
She snorts and the water she just sipped gets stuck in her throat as she coughs it out.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says playfully, one brow arching in challenge. “A little warning—I’m a bit of a coffee snob.”
“I’m always up for a new challenge.” I wink, catching the faint blush creeping across her cheeks.
She bites her bottom lip, as if holding back a snarky remark, and my gaze immediately focuses on her mouth. Her lips are the perfect plump shape. Soft and cushiony, like two tiny pillows. Stop staring at her mouth, you bloody creep!
“Alright,” she murmurs, snapping my gaze back to hers. “Let’s give these plants a new home, shall we?”
I nod in agreement and stand. “After you, Miss McKenna.”
Hope rises to her feet, and for the next fifteen minutes, we move from room to room, finding the perfect spot to place each plant. She explains in great detail why they belong in a specific area of the room and how best to maintain them so that they’re able to flourish.
Even as she walks me through the care and upkeep of the plants, I can’t help but admire the knowledge and passion in the way she speaks.
It’s the same intensity I feel when I talk about building things—the kind that comes from loving something so deeply.
I’ve never met anyone who understands that feeling in quite the same way.
Once we’re finished, I guide her back to her bag on the kitchen island.
She takes out her phone and checks it, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly.
I don’t need to ask who it’s from. From the way her brows knit together in irritation, and how her thumbs tap sharply across the screen, I can tell its Adrian.
“Everything okay?” I ask, cautiously.
She glances back at me, switches her phone off, and dumps it back into her bag. “Oh, it’s just my ex creating more unnecessary drama, as usual.”
“How are things between you and him, by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She exhales a long, heavy breath. “Honestly, not great. It’s like I’m dealing with a toddler sometimes when he doesn’t get his way. Now that we’re divorced, he’s turned into an even bigger arsehole.”
“How so?”
“Every conversation with him becomes a battle or a competition, especially when it comes to Zac. At this point, I don’t even think he cares that he’s hurting me anymore.”
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through this,” I say gently. “If anything, it just reinforces that leaving him was the right decision. Let him feel the pain of losing the best thing in his life.”
As the words leave my mouth, a sharp ache slices through my chest. An unwelcome memory of Skylar saying those exact same words to me after I betrayed her and she chose to move on without me.
“Yeah...I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Her phone pings, and she releases another exasperated sigh. “I should get going. I hope I’ve given you enough tips to keep your plants alive. If not, you can just text me. I’ll be happy to assist you.”
“I’ll definitely take you up on that. Thank you, Hope. You’ve been a massive help.”
I walk her to the door, the space between us suddenly feeling too small, too charged. For a long minute, neither of us moves for the handle. We just stand there, as if suspended in time, exchanging lingering glances and shy, half-smiles, until I finally unlock the door and step back.
“Drive safe, Hope. And again, thanks for all your help.”
“My pleasure, Kaden. Please take good care of them.”
“I will. I promise.”
This time her smile widens. “Bye,” she murmurs, soft and sweet.
“Bye,” I reply just as quietly.
She steps into the hallway, and I watch her leave until the elevator doors slide shut, cutting her from view. The silence that follows feels heavier than it should, as if today ended too soon, leaving a trail of things unsaid. My emotions churn, messy and confusing.
It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.
For over a year and a half, I’ve done everything except focus on women.
I haven’t dated, and I haven’t been intimate with anyone, which is unusual for someone like me.
And while I’ve been busy working on myself and my projects, I just never felt the urge to meet someone new—until now.
I slip quietly into my home office and reach for my tool belt on my desk. As my eyes settle on the oak rocking chair I just built for Mila to go into Isla’s nursery, a strong sense of determination washes over me.
Something about today, and the sharp, insightful redhead who just left, ignites a drive in me I haven’t felt in a long time. The drive to improve—not just my craft, but at everything else I’ve been lacking in life.