Chapter 6
I grumbled as I opened my car door, popping my umbrella open before getting out. October started out chillier than normal, and the rain that had been nonstop the last couple of days made it damp and feel even worse. It soured my mood more than it already was.
And it was sour.
When I walked into LSID, I grabbed one of the umbrella bags, fighting to get my umbrella in it the whole way to my office before finally giving up and chucking it in the corner behind the door when I walked inside.
My eyes landed on my desk, and a sweet cream cold brew with three pumps of cinnamon dolce topped with cinnamon powder from my favorite café sat waiting for me.
Bless him. I sat in my chair and grabbed the cup, closing my eyes as I took a large sip.
Lucas had been sending me this drink every morning for the last few weeks.
The week after learning Callie was back, the man stalked me every day, pleading with me to help him get through to Callie so she would talk to him.
I’d shut him down with harsh words and hadn’t planned on giving him the time of day, but I finally relented and was willing to hear him out.
In the end, I didn’t offer to help, per se, but said I wouldn’t try to persuade her against it if she wanted to talk to him.
He took it, willing to take whatever crumbs he could get, and even after his sucking up was over, he continued sending me my morning drink.
The truth was, I knew Lucas wasn’t that bad of a guy.
Over the last few years, there were times I had to remind myself that I was supposed to hate him by default for hurting my best friend because he was always so goddamn nice, even when I was being a bitch for reasons he wasn’t aware of.
And after hearing him out a couple of weeks ago, I knew he wasn’t bullshitting me when he said he was still in love with Callie.
She was going through a lot at the moment, so I wasn’t going to push her to talk to him if she wasn’t ready, but there was a part of me—the hopeless romantic in me that was hanging on by an ever-fraying thread—that hoped she might someday give him another chance.
After gulping down half of my drink in hopes of giving myself some much-needed energy, I opened my laptop.
I worked at Life Styled Interior Design for a few years now.
I was one of the first designers Grace Halloway hired to work under her, and not to toot my own horn, but I was damn good at my job.
After proving myself with a few big projects, I became one of the company’s top designers, save for Grace herself.
Today was the only day that week I was in the office and not working onsite on a project, so I planned to play catch up with calls and emails, check in with my contractors, and make sure things were on schedule like they were supposed to be.
Except, that’s not what happened at all.
I received a phone call that the tile for one of my projects was placed on an indeterminate backorder. It meant I would have to reselect another tile and delay the installation until it arrived. It would push back our completion date, making it run into a new project I had on my schedule to start.
After making some calls and sucking up to my contractors hard enough to buy me a few more weeks to get a new tile delivered, I received word from our stone fabricator that one of the marble slabs we ordered for a different project was damaged in transit.
That meant another delay and even more rescheduling. It was a logistical nightmare.
Needless to say, I was so over today.
I went to our employee lounge and grabbed a bottle of water to wash down some ibuprofen for the headache I could feel coming.
As I walked back down the hall toward my office, Grace poked her head out of hers.
“Morgan!” she called out, stopping me as I walked by.
“Can you come in here for a minute? I just need another set of eyes on this.”
“Sure.”
I stepped into her office and moved to her work table, where she had several hand sketches scattered across it, piles of fabric swatches, and carpet and wood finish samples.
“I’ve been looking at these for hours, and I’m losing my damn mind.
” She picked up the plans and unrolled them across the table on top of everything to show me the existing floor plans for the office space.
“This is the Cliffhouse project?”
“Yeah. I just need someone else’s opinion.
This is what I was thinking…” She grabbed a pencil off the table.
“I was initially going to put the seating area here”—she did a quick sketch of chairs over an area of the plans—“but I feel like we have to utilize this full wall for the backdrop behind the lobby desk. But if I move the seating area over here”—she tapped the pencil over another area—“it disrupts the flow of traffic coming through this entrance. I also feel we should keep the view out of these windows as the primary focal point, but that leaves anybody checking in with their backs to the water.”
I spent the next hour helping Grace work through options for what she needed and figuring out a plan she was happy with moving forward.
“Thank you so much.” Grace smiled as she rolled the plans back up. “I’d been looking at that for way too damn long, and you just saved me from one giant headache.”
“You’re welcome.”
As she tucked the plans away, she cast me a sidelong glance. “Okay, spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Clearly, something is up with you. You’re not nearly as enthusiastic as you normally are. What’s going on?”
I slumped into the comfortable chair in the seating area in her office; as owner, she rightfully had the biggest space, and she’d made it into a luxury home away from home because of how much time she spent there.
I explained to her the hiccups I ran into today with the back-ordered tile, the damaged marble slab, and the delays they caused.
“Okay…but that’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. And you seem frustrated over more than just some hiccups in your project schedules.”
I let out a wry chuckle. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“I need to get laid.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her. “Aw, did you hit a dry spell?”
“I’m in the damn desert, Grace. And there’s no water in sight.”
“How long has it been?” I let out a breath, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples; I really didn’t want to tell her, not when she probably had brag-worthy sex every night with her gorgeous husband. “Come on,” she said with a chuckle. “How long?”
“Five months,” I mumbled.
“Oh, good God.” She grimaced. “You poor thing.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “And here I was thinking it really wasn’t that bad…”
Another laugh escaped her. “It’s not bad. I’ve known some people who went way longer without getting any. But what’s the problem? I know you’ve gone on some dates in the last five months.”
“They’ve all been terrible. And that’s not me being picky or exaggerating. Literally, every single one has been awful, and not anyone I’d want to take home, even for a night.”
“You don’t need to look for Mr. Right to get laid. You just need Mr. Right Now.”
“Even the ones I’ve met while out…I’m convinced there’s not a decent single man left in the Bayport/Charleston areas. I’m willing to lower my inhibitions, but not my standards.”
Instead of going straight to my apartment that evening after taking the ferry from Charleston back into Bayport, I headed to Callie’s. I pulled into her driveway and exited my car, carrying takeout from our favorite diner.
When she opened the door, she smiled at me, then at the bags in my hand. “You’re going to go broke if you keep buying me Harbor House.”
“Eh.” I shrugged as I walked inside. “Worth it.” I set the bags on the table and slipped off my jacket while she grabbed us something to drink. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing much. I finished painting the guest room yesterday since I was cooped up inside because of the rain.”
Callie was in the middle of revamping her childhood home with plans to sell it in the not-too-distant future.
She’d traveled around the States after leaving Bayport ten years ago but came back in August after her mom passed away to handle the estate.
It was something she could have done from San Diego, where she’d been for the past year, but she was adamant about coming back to “see it through.” I knew it was the guilt talking, but I wasn’t going to complain about it because I missed the hell out of her, and I’d take her being back for however long that may be.
Thanks to the great State of South Carolina’s probate timeframe, I had at least six more months.
We’d been best friends since preschool, and life in Bayport hadn’t been the same since she left. And that was the other, more selfish reason I secretly hoped she might eventually work things out with Lucas. Because maybe then, she would stay.
I wanted her to stay.
“You look cranky,” Callie said as we sat at the table and opened our food containers.
“Why does everyone keep saying that to me today?” I huffed. “I am not cranky.”
“You getting so defensive about being called cranky is the first clue that you are, in fact, cranky.” Callie chuckled. “Rough day at work?”
“Not the best.” I sighed. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”
She looked at me thoughtfully, and I knew what was coming before she said anything. “You need to get laid.”
“So do you,” I retorted.
“Perhaps. It’s been longer for me than it has you, but I’m not becoming a bear because of it,” she teased.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I sighed. “Hell, I stopped at the grocery store yesterday, and I was behind this guy in line, and I was staring at his forearms while practically drooling and imagining things I had no business imagining about a total stranger or his arms.”
Callie chuckled. “Okay, but in your defense, forearms can be really sexy.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “All I know for sure is that my poor girl is parched and starved for attention that doesn’t come from my nightstand drawer.”
Callie tipped her head back with a laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s talk about something different and get your mind off it.”
I was sure getting my mind off it was impossible at this point, but I was willing to try. We chatted about our weekend plans while we scarfed down our burgers from Harbor House.
“You can come out Saturday and help me scope out the scene for a prospect to get me out of my slump.” My tone made it more of a question than a statement. She’d been declining to come out with me for the last month on Tuesdays and Saturdays, knowing Lucas would be around.
She let out a breath. “I don’t know…”
“Callie, you can’t let him being there stop you from going out and having some fun. You’ve gotta get out of the house.”
“I’m getting out Friday.” I gave her a look. “Let’s see how that goes, and we’ll go from there.”
Gabe bought his first house last month, and his younger brother Blake was coming into town to throw him a surprise housewarming party with an oyster roast on Friday.
He was a military physician currently stationed at Fort Liberty in North Carolina and didn’t get to come home very often.
I knew how excited Gabe would be to have him there, even if it was just for the weekend.
I was surprised Callie agreed to come with me, considering Blake also happened to be one of Lucas’s best friends and he would be there.
It took a little convincing on my part, but she gave in.
I hoped it went well so she wouldn’t be so quick to turn down tagging along for Tuesday Trivia and Saturday nights at The Sandbar.
“Hey, ya never know, maybe you’ll meet someone at the party, and you can get it out of your system then,” she quipped.
I scoffed with a roll of my eyes. “I’ve met Gabe’s friends before. That’s not happening.”