8. Chapter 7 Katrina
J anuary 2024
When I enter the lobby from the indoor pool, I find Josie sitting cross-legged on a chair at the desk in the lobby, laptop open and resting in its rightful place—her lap. As I approach, she looks up and smiles at me before removing an earbud. I can hear music pumping from it, the volume probably turned up to drown out some of the work going on outside. “Hey, Kat.”
“Hey,” I greet, glancing down at the copy of Liam’s design in my hand. “Have you seen Bryce?”
“He’s up in his office.” She points to the door with a scowl. “I was up there, too, but he kicked me out. Apparently, singing Taylor Swift under your breath doesn’t help your boyfriend focus on writing a business plan.”
I grin as she playfully rolls her eyes, but I’m already heading toward the stairs. “Do you want me to yell at him for banishing you to the dungeons?”
She nods firmly. “It’s what any good friend would do.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I push through the doors. She and I both know I won’t do it, though. While Josie and I have gotten close over the last few weeks, hanging out together at least a few times a week and even having a girl’s night at my rental when Bryce had to go to Georgia to help Carter with something, Bryce and I are practically strangers. We’ve never crossed the line of professionalism that blurred with Carter and Josie. He’s here to remodel a pool and I’m here to execute his vision. There’s nothing more to it than that.
As I approach the office, I notice his door is barely propped open despite the sound of muffled machinery. I rap a knuckle against the splintered wood. He glances up. “Hey, do you have a second? I have a question.”
The look he gives me is wary, but he still nods. I step into the small room that somehow feels smaller now that there’s only an old metal desk in it, Bryce, and myself. I set the papers down on the desk, pointing to the problem area I spotted. “What’s this?”
His brow arches. “The plans for the remodel,” he deadpans. “The ones Liam drew up and Carter and I signed off on. I’d think you’d want to ask me a real question, Katrina.”
I want to roll my eyes at his sass, but somehow refrain, and dig my finger into the paper with more force. “These are the plans for the main pool.” He finally looks to where I’m pointing. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t see any issues with them?”
He shakes his head and says, “No. Nothing has changed on those.”
“Bryce, you have seating taking up one entire wall.” The wall is covered in basic stadium style plastic seats and there’s no room for anything else on that side. “They’re taking up valuable space. Not everyone will want to sit here. You need room for some tables and chairs.”
He balks at that. “This isn’t the type of pool you lounge by, Katrina. Patio seating isn’t practical. How many times do I have to tell you this?”
“What about parents who are watching their kids during lessons or practice?” I can tell I’m pushing his buttons, but I’m not convinced he’s thinking past his own daydream. He needs to be realistic. “Do you think they’ll want to sit on hard plastic chairs all the time?”
“I’m not building this place for the parents,” he shoots back. “Anyone who has ever gone to a swim meet knows comfortable seating is not happening. It’s part of the charm of the sport.”
I bring my hands to my hips, ready to stand my ground like I would with any person under my command I work with. “Now you sound ridiculous. Why are you sacrificing comfort?”
Bryce glares right back at me. “There is plenty of space on that side of the pool,” he points to the opposite side, “for the athletes to relax and be comfortable. That’s what matters to me. Why can’t you just listen to me? I know what this place needs. I’ve spent my whole life in pools like this.”
“Just because something has been one way for all your life doesn’t make it the only right way,” I challenge. “Nor does it prohibit you from making changes.”
He releases an exasperated sigh. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was under the impression that Liam was the design lead on this project, not you. Why are you trying to change something you have no part in? It’s been approved, Katrina.”
It feels like my stomach drops to my feet at his words. Suddenly, embarrassment flooding my cheeks, I realize I can’t find any of my own. Desperate to get out of there, I snatch the plans back off his desk and leave the same way I just came. “Forget it!”
“Great talk,” he calls before the door swings shut behind me.
I storm down the stairs, the sound of my shoes hitting the concrete echoing. When I push my way back into the lobby, the heavy metal door clangs shut behind me, startling Josie. Her eyes widen as she looks at me.
I raise my hand to keep her from saying anything because I just can’t right now. “Your boyfriend is impossible to work with!”
“Wait!” she calls after me, but I continue to the front door. I need a minute. “What did he do this time?”
The door swings shut behind me, providing a literal wall between me and the thing—person—causing me so much stress. I just have to pull myself together and reiterate to myself that I can pull off this job. That I’m not going to let someone like Bryce Clark get under my skin. I’m good at my job and my instincts are solid, even if he refuses to see it. I just need one of them to listen to me.
Not knowing what else to do, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through the contacts until I find the one I’m looking for. I dial the number, purely on instinct, then press the phone against my ear. The longer it rings, the more frustrated I become.
He told me he’d be available if something important came up and now that there was something, he’s not answering. Bryce probably got to him before I could—
The ringing cuts off. “Hello?”
I freeze at the sound of his voice. I’m not sure what I expected Carter Abrams to sound like, but I was unprepared for this. His voice is deep, heavy with something that could be exhaustion, but it’s warm and smooth. I feel like his voice could wrap me up in a hug that I’d never want to go free from.
Some girls are attracted to biceps. Some girls are attracted to smiles. I’m a sucker for an attractive voice, and this man has one.
“Hello?” he questions, and I swear a shiver runs down my spine. Pull it together, Katrina! “Miss Dalton?”
“Katrina,” I dumbly correct, not even sure how the word manages to come out. “I’m sorry to bother you, I just need to run something by you and it’s a bit of a time sensitive issue.”
“It’s no problem,” he assures me. “I was just taking a nap.”
The anger comes back in me like a firecracker, snapping and sparking to life in a flurry of activity. He’s taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon while I’m here with his business partner, working our asses off to remodel a pool he foolishly bought. Now I’m not sure who to be madder at: Bryce, or him.
“Well, I’m sorry to wake you,” I snark. “This should be quick and then you can get back to your nap.”
He must not hear the ire in my tone because he laughs. He has the nerve to laugh, which sends another zip of something down my spine. “I needed to get up any—”
I don’t want to hear his excuses. “I want to talk to you about the main pool. The plan Liam drew up, and you approved, has an entire wall of stadium seats.”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Bryce and I are hoping to have the opportunity to host a lot of meets, maybe even some professional ones. What’s the problem? Are we unable to get the stands installed on time?”
“No, there’s no problem with the supplies. The problem is with the plan. I need you to talk to Bryce. I don’t know if he’s being all that realistic with this design element. You don’t just want to cater to those participating in the sport, you should be considering other people who will use this space. Having an entire wall of stands is a waste of valuable space.”
“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about here? Do you want to make a change to the design that was already finalized?” The reason they’re best friends is suddenly starting to make a lot more sense. “Katrina, I understand your concern, but the type of place Bryce and I are running isn’t going to be for leisure swimming. Yes, we’ll do lessons, and have open swimming, but people aren’t coming here to lie by the pool and read.”
He’s not being rude or chastising me the way Bryce had, but it feels just the same. It feels like neither one of them is taking me seriously enough. I may not understand what this sport needs, but I do understand what the public will want from a pool.
“Everyone keeps saying that, but I can’t imagine you’d possibly need that much space.”
There’s a sharp inhale on Carter’s side of the phone. “Look, I know you’re not familiar with this sport, but it is more popular than you’d expect. When meets are going on, those seats will be full. We need you to trust that we know how to accommodate the people who will be using this facility the most.”
There’s the chastising. “And I really need both of you to understand I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And you’re doing it fantastically, but we’re just doing ours, too.”
“Bryce is doing yours,” I snap back.
“Excuse me?”
“Bryce is doing your job, Carter.” I take a deep breath through my nose. “You’re in Georgia swimming.”
“I’m in Georgia doing my job,” he stresses, but I just roll my eyes. “Miss Dalton, do you think I’m just sitting in Georgia doing nothing?”
I cringe at the use of my last name, knowing I’d crossed a line I can’t step back from. I might as well drive my point home. Maybe one of them will finally listen to me. “Not at all, Mr. Abrams. I think you’re in Georgia being a professional swimmer. Now, if you’d excuse me, I need to get back to my job.”
I don’t give him the chance to argue or say anything more. I end the call and turn to go back inside. When I step through the door, I’m still fuming, but now it’s for a whole other reason. Josie isn’t at the desk when I get inside, and I take that as a blessing in disguise. As close as we’re becoming, I don’t need her eternal optimism right now. If Carter and Bryce won’t take my job seriously, why should I take theirs seriously?
“K atrina!”
I glance up from the paperwork I’m looking over to see Bryce storming toward me, phone clenched in his hand. Sighing, I drop the pen and turn to face him, readying myself for battle. “What can I do for you, Bryce?”
“Did you call Carter to try to get him to agree with you about the stands after we talked this morning?”
I shrug, because what else can I do? “I wanted to make sure you were both on the same page with this. Neither one of you wanted to listen to me, so if you end up hating them, please remember they’re not easily removed.”
My words just make him angrier. “You can’t keep doing this. If I tell you we’re keeping something the way it is, that’s all you need. Stop calling him.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not the only one who owns the building, Bryce. He’s your business partner. He should be part of the decision-making process.”
The last two conversations I’ve had with Bryce and Carter were nothing but disappointing. Bryce has spent the last month making excuse after excuse for Carter, but my phone call with him this morning just proved how pointless it all is. He’s not busy, he’s taking mid-morning naps.
“I’m the one in charge while he’s training. We’ve told you this,” he snaps. “If there’s something he needs to be looped into, I’ll make the call. He doesn’t need to answer every little question you have.”
I fight back a scoff, wanting to make some joke about how easy the life of a professional swimmer seems to be. Bryce keeps insisting Carter has this packed schedule, but what more is there to it than swimming and occasionally smiling at a camera? “Oh, please, stop making excuses for him.”
Bryce gawks at me, eyes wide. “I . . . uh . . . what?”
“I know it’s not my place to say this, but it’s kind of bullshit that he’s left this all to you. He’s a professional swimmer, right?” Bryce nods, still looking shocked. “So, he swims. I can’t imagine he’s all that busy. Besides, the Olympics aren’t for months. He has time to be here.”
I think I might have broken Bryce.
He stands there, mouth opening, and then closing without a single word coming out. There’s something in his eyes, though, and the way he’s looking at me makes me shift uncomfortably. I can’t tell if he wants to scream at me or fire me. Maybe both.
He takes a deep breath through his nose, hand clenching at his side. “You have to know there’s more to it than swimming laps and showing up at the Olympics.”
I hold his gaze as my brow creases. My confidence in what I’d just said wavers slightly. “No.”
He huffs. “Most professional swimmers train a minimum of six days a week. They’re in the pool twice a day, swimming at least six miles a day, but it’s usually closer to ten. That doesn’t even consider the dryland workouts, the recovery, or the nutritional side of things.”
Six to ten miles a day? Holy shit! No wonder he was taking a nap.
Guilt claws up my chest as I take a step back. I’m even more clueless about this sport than I realized and Will certainly hasn’t helped matters any. No matter how many times I ask him questions, wanting to get insight, he changes the subject. I’ve tried asking Nadine, but she shut down after the conversation with Liam last month. As a result, I’ve been walking around here looking like an idiot who thinks she knows everything when she hasn’t got a clue.
“And the Olympics are not the only major meet for professional swimmers!” Now that Bryce has gotten started, I’m not sure he’s stopping anytime soon. Something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s given this lecture. “It might be the only one to get any real media coverage, but it’s not the be-all and end-all of swimming. My point is, this is his job, Kat. Even if you don’t see it that way.”
“Whoa!” I raise my hands to calm him down. “I never said I don’t see it—”
“Your actions implied it.” My mouth snaps shut, heat flushing my cheeks because he’s right. “Let him do his job while you and I do ours.”
I nod once before Bryce turns to go up to his office, leaving me standing there in the aftermath of my embarrassment. Heat still ignited my cheeks. I’ve been doing to Carter and Bryce, the same thing I’m fighting against in my own career. Belittling what they do, not trusting the work they put into it, and pretending like I know more than they do about what’s going on.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my leggings, going to the message thread I have with Carter, but I don’t send him anything. Instead, I stare down at the last message he sent for several seconds before I pocket the phone again. Bryce is right; I shouldn’t be bothering Carter with unnecessary details and, even though I just want to apologize for wasting his time, this doesn’t feel like the right time.
Besides, I’m too mortified to even think about reaching out to him right now. I’d been so unprofessional when I was on the phone with him this morning. Even worse, I’d been cruel. I’d acted immaturely over the fact I wasn’t getting what I wanted. Even if I felt like I wasn’t being heard, I’d been so wrapped up in doing this job well, I’d failed to do the one thing I always promised myself I’d do: listen to the clients.
The last thing I need to do is embarrass myself further. I’ll finish for the day and go home, maybe do some research, and see what else I can figure out about professional swimming. To be honest, that should have been the research I did months ago instead of looking at pretty pictures of pools.