Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
DREW
Every time I closed my eyes last night, all I could see was Chloe walking away.
I should’ve gone after her. Instead, I let her leave, and now I think I’ve blown it.
I just stood there as frozen as a snowman.
The truth’s been sitting in my chest for years, and I still couldn’t get the words out. I just don’t know how. Yet.
After tossing and turning all night, around three a.m., I decided to just get up.
I pulled on my heavy parka, rummaged through the basement until I found a dusty plastic bin labeled Holiday Aquascaping Stuff, and drove to the resort.
Luckily, it’s a lot like Vegas. The work doesn’t stop just because it’s night.
Nobody batted an eyelash when I showed up and started lugging the box full of decorations to the tank area.
Right now, it’s about eight a.m. A couple of maintenance workers pause nearby, watching as I step back and examine the tank’s transformation.
The new aquatic plants sway gently in the current, anchored in carefully arranged red and green sand and stones.
I’ve added a few resin ornaments in red, gold, and icy-blue.
They’re safe for the fish, but festive enough to look like tiny underwater ornaments.
My favorite details, though, are the miniature sleigh and Santa nestled behind a piece of driftwood.
It’s subtle, but it makes the whole thing feel like Christmas.
I used to decorate my own tanks like this every December, before I moved to LA.
I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until now.
The water’s already starting to clear, and the fish—neon tetras, a couple gold barbs, and two little Cory catfish—dart in and out of the rock tunnels, checking out the new additions.
“That’s pretty awesome,” a voice says behind me.
I turn to find Robert, Emma’s coworker, standing beside me with a clipboard in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
“Thanks,” I say, brushing my damp hands on a towel draped over my shoulder. “Figured the fish deserved some holiday cheer too.”
Robert chuckles and heads off, leaving me alone with the soft hum of the filter. I crouch back down and continue to watch as the fish weave through the plants and decorations. “If only figuring out what to say to Chloe were as easy as decorating the tank,” I mutter under my breath.
Footsteps echo on the tile behind me, followed by the jingle of a key-card lanyard. I glance over my shoulder just as Mr. Mynt stops a few feet away. He’s wearing black pants, a red suit jacket, a green tie with tiny peppermints, and a Santa hat. I have to hand it to him. He knows how to dress.
“Good morning, Mr. Mynt.”
“Good morning.” He crosses his arms and studies the tank.
I hold my breath.
“This is quite an improvement,” he says suddenly. “I’d forgotten we had an aquarium over here.”
I rise, brushing some stray gravel from my jeans. “Thanks.”
He lifts an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “And I take it this setup is all you?”
“Guilty as charged,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “The rest of the resort was decked out, and I figured the fish deserved the same courtesy.”
Mr. Mynt nods slowly. He leans even closer, smiling as his eyes find the sleigh. “You’ve got an eye for detail.” He turns his head my direction. “You’re a Sullivan, right? Bill and Angie’s son?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Makes sense.” He chuckles. “It looks like the creative streak runs in the family.” He strokes his chin thoughtfully.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in doing another one like this?
There’s a ten-foot-long tank sitting in the storage room.
I was just thinking something like this would be the perfect addition to the decor for the Merry Mynt Ball on the twenty-third. ”
It takes me a second to process what he’s asking. “You want me to design and install a tank for the event?”
“If you can have it set up by the morning of the twenty-third,” he confirms. “You’d have an unlimited budget and access to whatever materials you need. Think you’re up for it?”
My heart jumps. That’s two days from now. A ten-foot tank would be pushing two hundred gallons minimum. My mind starts racing. I’d need to clean everything, test and install the filtration system and lighting, place the designs, then stock it.
If I don’t sleep, it’s doable, but there’s no way I can fully cycle a tank of that size so quickly if I want to be able to safely introduce the fish. Letting the nitrogen levels stabilize in the tank normally takes six to eight weeks.
“I can’t fully cycle the tank by then,” I admit, already troubleshooting in my head. “But if it’s just for display during the ball, I can pre-seed the filters using the media from another tank and keep the fish in there for the short-term.”
“I have no idea of what any of that means, but if it’s temporary, that’s fine,” Mr. Mynt says, nodding. “We just need it to look good for the event. After that, you can make whatever adjustments you think are necessary so we can make it a more permanent feature of the ballroom.”
I hesitate for only a second longer, but I already know the answer.
“In that case, I’d love to.” My hands are practically itching to sketch out ideas already.
I see shimmering white gravel, clusters of red and gold plants, a bubble wand shaped like a candy cane, and maybe even a small model of the resort.
That is if I can 3-D print or sculpt one quick enough.
“Excellent. I’ll have someone wheel the tank and all the equipment that goes with it to the ballroom this afternoon. Bill whatever you need to the resort. Your sister should have the account information.”
I glance back at the holiday tank I just finished. And for the first time in months, I feel excited about having a project to work on. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this,” I admit.
“I’m sure it’ll turn out fantastic.” Mr. Mynt smiles. “I’m always looking for ways to add unique touches to the resort for our guests. Perhaps after the holidays, we could discuss a few more collaborations I’d like to do.”
I blink, caught off guard. “You want me to design more tanks?”
“Absolutely. Consider this a trial run.” He extends a hand. “What was your name again?”
“I’m Drew,” I say, still a little stunned.
“Well, Drew, it’s early days, but I have a good feeling about you.” He winks. “Welcome to the Mynt family.”
As he walks away, I just stand there, wondering if I’d heard him right.
I came home trying to figure out what was next.
It never crossed my mind that designing tanks professionally could actually be part of that answer.
I grin widely. If I do this right and Mr. Mynt commissions me for more tanks, I could use my work here to build a portfolio.
Could this be something I do full-time in the future?
Excitement buzzes through me. I pull out my phone, swipe open the notes app, and start sketching ideas. I can already picture the glow of blue LEDs, icy gravel, and delicate ornaments swirling like snow beneath the water’s surface. My pulse is thrumming with possibility.
“Wow,” Emma says, joining me as I’m packing up the last of my supplies. She hands me a cup of coffee and a cinnamon twist in a paper bag.
It’s uncanny how she’s always ready with exactly what I need. “How did you know I haven’t had breakfast yet?”
“I can anticipate the needs of most of our resort guests. Call it the concierge sixth sense.”
I snort and take a massive bite of the cinnamon twist, letting the sugar and pastry calm the nervous churning in my stomach.
“And also,” she adds, “I saw you working over here like a madman when I walked in to meet Chloe for breakfast.”
My jaw pauses mid-chew. I glance sideways. “How is she?” I try to make it sound casual, but the question still comes out rough.
Emma’s expression softens. “She’s okay. She has a lot on her mind and just needs some time to sort through her feelings and clear her head.”
I nod, but my stomach twists. That’s code for not interested in me, isn’t it?
“She’s at the rink,” Emma says.
I want to ask more details. Was she upset? Did she talk about me? But I clamp down on it. I already feel like I’m the reason she needed space in the first place.
Emma reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out my credit card. “By the way, here.”
I take it. “You’re returning this without a receipt? That’s a bad sign,” I deadpan.
“Relax.” She digs into her tote bag and hands me a small, wrapped box. “I spent $99.87. Thirteen cents under budget. You’re welcome.”
I look down at the box in my hand. The wrapping is neat. It has green paper, silver ribbon, and a tiny glittery snowflake charm attached to the bow. I slide it into my coat pocket. I hope trusting my sister was the right thing to do. “When do I give it to her?”
“When the timing’s right. You’ll just know.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter.
“And yet, you still gave me your credit card.” She grins.
We start walking toward the front lobby doors. Outside, snow has started falling again, dusting the walkway. Emma pauses in the doorway and turns to me, her expression unusually serious. “What are you doing following me?”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me. I told you where to find Chloe.”
“I thought you said she needed to think?” To me, that means being alone. Unless my sister knows something I don’t.
“She does. But you should still go talk to her.” Emma’s tone shifts, becoming softer. “If you’re scared this thing between you is one-sided, you’re wrong. And if you mess it up by hesitating too long . . . well, I’ll be forced to get involved.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Weren’t you already involved?”
“Exactly.” She gives me a pointed look, then heads back to the concierge desk.
I stand there for a second, holding the warm coffee in one hand, the gift tucked into my pocket.
Chloe is just a short walk away. Every part of me is screaming to go to her.
But then I remember the look on her face when she walked away.
She was overwhelmed. Like me. If I’m serious about this thing we have going between us, I need to respect her and give her some space.
So instead of heading for the rink, I find a bench just outside the main building, brush it off, and sit. I can’t see Chloe or the ice from here, but I know she’s out there. And if she does happen to head this way, I’ll be waiting for her.
In the meantime, I take a sip of my coffee and finish the cinnamon twist. I pull out my phone and open my notes app again to keep brainstorming about Mr. Mynt’s tank.