Chapter 33 #3
Her current closet is too narrow for the amount of hanging space she needs; when I first moved in, I knew right away that the shelving was inefficient, the vertical space was underused and the lighting was wrong but I never got round to changing it.
The room beside it could be converted if the non-load-bearing partition comes down—assuming the electrical can be rerouted cleanly and the doorway shifts six inches to make space for a full-height built-in on the south wall.
Better lighting, obviously. A center island if there’s enough clearance.
Jewelry drawers. Shoe wall angled slightly, not flat, because Tiana would like the drama even if she pretended not to.
I lock the phone and set it face down.
No.
I am not designing a closet for a woman who can barely speak to me because I slept with her and then acted like she was a mistake.
But you care about her and you want her to stay. Design the closet.
Fuck.
I’m doing it, aren’t I?
I pick up my pen, open my notebook, and write down: T closet?
Then I stare at the words.
Christ.
I cross it out so hard the paper nearly tears.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a message.
@tianawithlove
be honest. is needing a new closet after one organizing session too much?
My heart jumps the way it always does whenever she messages me.
@built2last
Depends. Are you asking as a woman who makes way too many irrational decisions or…?
The second I send it, I feel my mouth twitch, because I can practically see her indignant expression on the other side of the screen.
The typing bubble appears almost immediately.
@tianawithlove
wow.
I lean back in my chair, phone in hand, the meeting notes and project reports on my desk becoming background furniture.
@tianawithlove
I come to you in a moment of vulnerability and this is what I get?
@built2last
That was vulnerability? I thought it was a closet-based emergency.
@tianawithlove
sometimes a closet-based emergency IS vulnerability.
A laugh breaks out of me, and I forget where I am.
@built2last
Fair. My condolences during this difficult time.
@tianawithlove
thank you. finally some respect.
I look at her message for too long.
Respect. What a joke.
If I respected her the way she deserved, I would stop this. I would close the app, delete the account and face her as myself, not as some stranger who gets to have all the parts of her she no longer trusts Griffin Hayes with.
But my thumb hovers over the keyboard anyway, because this is the only place she still talks to me. And I miss her.
@built2last
Is the current closet actually too small or are you dramatizing for the internet?
Her reply comes with a photo. My breath catches.
It’s nothing scandalous. Nothing even remotely inappropriate.
Just a mirror selfie from inside her closet, her phone half covering her face, hair now pulled up in a messy knot, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder.
Behind her, the closet is overflowing with clothes, handbags and shoes, and several dresses pushed too tightly together on a brass rod.
She looks beautiful.
Mine.
Not mine. Never mine, if I keep acting like this.
@tianawithlove
does this look like dramatizing to you?
Yes, I want to type.
Instead, I zoom in on the image and study the dimensions of her closet. The shelving really is wrong.
I know exactly how to fix it.
@built2last
I see at least three inefficient storage decisions.
@tianawithlove
why did that sound hot?
My entire body stills, and my eyes lock on the screen.
Those words drag me back to the moment Tiana’s mouth parted beneath mine, her hands in my hair, her voice turning breathless around my name. It reminds me of how easily she melts when she’s in my arms and how fucking ruined I become the second I stop fighting myself.
I shift in my chair and look toward the glass wall of my office.
People are moving outside. Dre is talking to one of the other junior designers near the sample wall.
Henson passes with a coffee in each hand, laughing at something someone from accounting says.
Worth stands near Mya’s desk, head tipped down while she shows him something on her tablet, and even from here, I can see the way his hand settles at the small of her back as if he’s doing it without thinking.
Like touching her is allowed and wanting her doesn’t make him feel like he’s betraying a dead woman.
My chest tightens.
@built2last
You have low standards if efficient storage is doing it for you.
@tianawithlove
first of all, do not shame my kinks.
second, a man who can identify storage flaws sounds useful.
@built2last
“Useful” isn’t usually the adjective women go for.
@tianawithlove
speak for yourself. I never trust a man who says he’s good with his hands until I’ve watched him put together furniture.
@built2last
What if he can build more than furniture?
@tianawithlove
are you trying to tell me you’re good with your hands, stranger?
The air leaves my lungs.
I sit there, frozen, with my phone in my hand and my pulse dragging heat through my body in a way that makes the office around me feel violently inappropriate. And is what I’m feeling jealousy that she’s flirting and getting attached to someone else? Even if that someone is me?
Get a grip, you idiot.
@built2last
Careful. You don’t know what you’re inviting in.
@tianawithlove
maybe I’m tired of being careful.
I am, too, I think.