Chapter 25
Gage
I entered the office all set to work. I had my coffee, my tablet, and a task list needing to be completed today.
Then I sabotaged myself.
I had left my sketch of the house up on my tablet, so when I turned it on, the sketch was the first thing I saw.
I’d spent a good portion of the weekend doodling away, and it had gotten a little past “sketch” territory at this point.
Damn, it was shaping up fine. I hoped I’d thought of everything Logan would want, but I didn’t know how to subtly ask him those questions.
How could I segue a house conversation in? On a date, maybe, as a what-if game?
I gave myself a little mental slap. I was supposed to be working right now. I had a few little projects—designing a new detached garage, reviewing the blueprints submitted to us for a second opinion on a structure, among other things—and one client due in about thirty minutes.
It wasn’t often I designed a building from scratch.
We were a renovation business, after all.
However, when given the chance, it was super fun and quite lucrative.
Building something from scratch didn’t require nearly as much work for our entire team.
For those projects, we didn’t have to modify an existing structure or do demolition, which often took more time.
I could see a future where our business became half renovation, half new builds, which was fine by me.
My phone rang with a little ditty. Text message incoming. My hopes of it being Logan were immediately dashed.
My dad had texted.
Frowning, I picked up my phone. My father and I had a strained relationship, and if we weren’t blood related, I wouldn’t have a relationship with him at all.
He was an offshore driller, making very good money, but it meant he was barely ever home.
He should have retired a couple of years ago—he had the means to do it—but he kept going out to the rig.
I think he didn’t want to deal with Cooper or his wife, so he kept working.
Part of me hated him for it, that he would abandon all of their issues and shove them onto me.
It never enthused me when I heard from him.
The text message contained his usual succinctness.
Asshole: Apologize to your mother.
I scoffed.
Me: She and you can go to hell.
Three bouncing dots, and he didn’t need tone to convey how mad he was.
Asshole: Apologize NOW. She’s doing the best she can.
Me: No, she isn’t. Neither are you. You both shoved Cooper at me because you don’t want to deal with your own child.
Well, I’m done being his parent. Your wife owes me an apology for making me her son’s parent.
You owe me an apology for failing to be a father to either of your children.
Until I get that apology, you can both go to hell.
Asshole: I’m due back on shift, I can’t talk about this now. Just make up with your mother. I’ll be home soon.
“I’ll be home soon” was code for he didn’t want to deal with this shit, and he just wanted to get his wife off his back. I sent him back a string of emojis, flipping him off, then blocked the number.
Maybe blocking him was extreme, but you know what? I only had so much patience for that man. Me apologize? When I’d been used like a doormat my entire life by my family? Fuck no. I wasn’t doing it.
Blocking him should send the message I was done with this shit, and they should straighten themselves out. I was done being their therapist.
Asher sauntered into my office with his tablet in hand, mouth open to say something, but paused right inside the doorway. “Uh-oh, why do you have mad face on?”
I didn’t say anything, just handed him my phone.
Asher read through the text message, lips pursed in a whistle. “Damn. Logan’s so good for you. Look at you not taking this shit lying down anymore.”
“Logan has a lot to do with it,” I admitted. Then groaned. “Although I feel bad he’s straightening out my baggage.”
“We all got it, bro, don’t feel bad. If anything, when you tell him about this, he’ll be super proud.”
“For sure. I just…can’t. Y’know? I just don’t have it in me anymore to be the whipping boy. Every person in this family is supposedly an adult. They can damn well start acting like it.”
“Yup yup.” Asher handed my phone back. “I came in to help you with the design aspects of the new build, in case they start asking questions.”
“I’m all for it. Should we move to the conference room?”
“Sure, that’ll be more comfortable.” Asher’s eyes narrowed. “Before we do that, though, answer me this. You’re a month into dating Logan and have properly introduced him to our group. You seem to be living in the man’s pocket.”
I snorted. Yeah, that was a pretty accurate statement.
“You’re even bottoming for this guy, which is something I never thought I’d see you do.”
“Technically, you still haven’t seen me do that because exhibitionism is not my kink.”
Asher waved off my words. “Semantics. What I’m getting at is, do you like him so much you’d marry him?”
I felt a flush crawl right up my ears. Dammit, how did best friends just know these things? It was like he’d known me my entire life or something.
A slow, sly grin took over Asher’s face. “Woooow. You do!”
“Shut up. He’s perfect for me, all right? I’d be crazy to let that man go.”
“I absolutely agree with you, but I have to ask, how far have you fantasized? We talking wedding plans already?”
“You know I’m not big on pomp and ceremony, but…” I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to share, but I kind of wanted to show off, too. I pulled my personal tablet off its charging dock, opened the file, and showed Asher the first drawing rendition.
Asher took the tablet, all while wearing a confused expression. “That’s a nice-looking house, but…wait. Oh. My. God. You have not designed a house for you two!”
I chafed the back of my neck, feeling bashful. “Not, like, seriously. More doodles?”
Asher swiped through the images. “Doodles my ass, you’ve even got the duct lines marked out! Damn, dude, this house is legit. Game room, which can be converted over to a movie theater, huge dining room, sunroom off the back— Wait, this is a whole other building. Are you building him a garage?”
“He likes to tinker with cars and bikes sometimes.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed in deep suspicion. “Is this the architect’s version of a marriage proposal?”
“I haven’t known him long enough to propose.”
“But it is?”
“I mean, I thought of it more as a wedding gift…?”
“So you do intend on marrying him.” Asher’s suspicion flipped into a delighted smile. “Oh good. I like him. I want to keep him as a friend.”
“Again, we haven’t dated long enough for me to really make that call, but…” I couldn’t help but turn wistful. “You think I can propose at the six-month mark?”
“I don’t see why not. Just make it a long engagement if he wants to give you two more time.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Hey! It’s rude to sound so surprised! I do come up with good ideas sometimes.”
“Eh, debatable.”
Asher glared at me. Mischief entered his expression. Uh-oh, I should not have pushed his buttons; he was going to do something I’d regret.
He turned on his heel and scampered out, calling out as he ran. “Anyone want to see Gage’s proposal blueprints?”
Oh fuck. He did not!
I chased after him, and despite the fact my legs were longer, I had a hard time catching him. Asher could move like lightning when he was of the mind to.
Of course everyone happened to be in the office. Even Cohen, who was on-site most of the time. Various heads popped out of their offices, and before I could catch Asher, Riggs held a hand up.
“I would love to see this. Gage, you’re proposing already?”
“I am not!” I was going to murder my best friend. I’d have to be careful about this. Zar was a cop, after all, and not about to let his boyfriend’s murderer run free. “That’s just, y’know, doodling—”
Asher steamrolled me. “He’s basically got this down to the point of submission. Isn’t it a cool house? Logan’s going to love it.”
Cohen joined them and blocked my attempt to snatch my tablet back. Bastard. He leaned over Asher’s shoulder to look. “Oooh, really nice house.”
“Will you three stop already?” I bemoaned, even as I tried again to get around Cohen. “I’m not proposing anytime soon!”
“Give it a few more months,” Cohen agreed without even looking up. “Too soon to spring a proposal on the man. But he’ll love this, Gage. This is an amazing house.”
I gave up. They’d seen it all already anyway. “I’ve got clients due in any second, can we tease me later?”
Riggs at least was willing to give the tablet back. “Right, the couple with the new build.”
“Exactly. I’ll take my tablet, thank you. Riggs, we’re going to meet them in the conference room.”
I made a very dignified escape back to my office.
Riggs called after me, “If you don’t know his ring size, I can find out for you!”
I shot him the bird, which got them all laughing. Seriously, why were my friends like this? Brats, all of them.
Although, shit, I didn’t know his ring size.
I refused to let Riggs find out, though. On a cold day in hell would I give that man more openings. Surely I could figure this out myself. Somehow.
Thirty seconds later, my tablet was securely password protected—I didn’t trust Asher or Riggs one bit—and I had my portfolio and laptop with me. I made it to the conference room and was barely in my seat when my clients walked in, escorted by Riggs.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson came strolling in. A couple on the verge of retirement, they were building their forever home, as most were wont to do at their age. Mr. Johnson came in with a cane in hand, clearly using it for support.
“Hello,” I said, hand outstretched. “I’m Gage.”
They both shook and settled. Mrs. Johnson was an athletic looking woman, her arms toned. Her husband was softer, slightly balding, more an office worker type who sat around too much. I sympathized, as that was me unless I hit the gym regularly.
Asher sat next to me and explained in his usual perky manner, “I’m here for design ideas in case you want a particular look.”
“Oh, we do.” Mrs. Johnson pulled her phone out and opened some app before handing it over. “I’ve created a Pinterest board for you.”
I had to laugh. “You’re speaking his love language now.”
“Pinterest is very helpful,” Asher claimed, sniffing at me. “Like now. Love these inspiration pictures, the house will look fabulous.”
“Let’s focus on the design first.” I pulled my laptop closer to me to take notes. “Mr. Johnson, I understand ADA compliancy is something we need in this house, but anything else you want to request?”
“One more thing,” he said, voice strangely deep for a man of his small stature. I would have pegged him as a tenor, as he’s not much bigger than Asher or Riggs. “I was diagnosed with MS earlier this year, so the house needs to be completely one level, no steps up or down. Something accessible.”
I noted all of that down. “All right, so what’s your thought on square footage?”
They outlined what they wanted, with me taking notes.
I had a very good concept of what they desired and pulled up a similar house I’d designed the year before.
While they liked it, it wasn’t the look they wanted, which was fine.
They’d come to me for something custom, after all, not cookie cutter.
Still, it helped define exactly what they wanted.
They signed a contract before they left, which told me I’d said all the right things. It also meant I had a fun new project. Money plus fun project equaled a happy Gage.
Now, how to make sure my friends kept their mouths shut, that was the question.