Chapter 39
SHAY
I follow the girls inside the busy store, and a burst of pride swamps me.
The gray pipes and ductwork on the industrial ceiling stand out just enough, the restored brick walls—graffitied in sections with tattoo-inspired images that are echoed on the silkscreens twisting over the hanging wall—pop.
Splashes of purple and wine swirl, the mottled concrete floor shines, and the rusted corrugated metal wrapping the cash counter adds a warehouse feel.
I almost fist-pump Whistler Cup style.
I’ve basically lived here the past week, but seeing my vision so alive—with voices and laughter and the rock band lighting up the space—pushes my Kolton stress to the background.
I created this stunning space. Me. No one else. Still, a tinge of doubt taints my exhilaration. Maybe this is the best I’ll ever do. This could be the extent of my creativity and Hilary will fire me in a few months when I fail to impress.
Gritting my teeth, I shake my head, knowing all artists go through this: impostor syndrome. I force myself to stand straighter. Nothing and no one, not even the Dick and his insinuations, can ruin this moment. This is the start of my promising career.
Among the throng of people, there’s no sexy ponytail, but Raven waves at me from the bar. By the time I join my friends, two blue shots are waiting for me. It’s time to celebrate this space, my job, and my future with Kolton.
Lily raises her glass. “To Shay. I always knew you had it in you.”
“To Shay.” Raven aligns her shot with Lily’s.
“To me,” I say, grinning.
Liquid fire slides down my throat, followed by another round. Then I order a glass of wine. Raven stands with me, and Kevin joins Lily at the bar. The tense energy between the couple thickens with…something.
They don’t touch. Don’t speak. He drains his beer in minutes while Lily examines the crowd. Then her face falls.
I follow her line of sight, to Sawyer and the woman suctioned to his side. I have half a mind to drag that blond hussy out of here, the alcohol coursing through my blood leading me into invincible territory, but Sawyer hasn’t done anything wrong. He has every right to date whom he chooses.
As though sensing our attention, he glances our way.
The way his face twists at the sight of Kevin is hard to miss.
Not so different than Lily’s reaction to him.
This date of his is likely a ruse. A desperate attempt to forget Lily or maybe make her jealous.
The way Lily loops her arm uncharacteristically through Kevin’s, I’d say the jealousy angle is working.
Sawyer narrows his eyes at her, then whispers in his date’s ear. A second later, both couples kiss, giving off intense PDA.
Forget interior designer, I should pilot a reality show titled Seriously Bad Ideas.
Lily needs a wake-up call. She and Sawyer are awesome together.
This week, while setting up, the two of them worked side by side, sneaking heated glances.
Still, she stays with Kevin. With comfort.
With safety. The more she rubs it in Sawyer’s face, the less likely it is he’ll be around if she ever rocks that boat.
“Perfect,” Raven says beside me, her tone clipped.
I twist my neck to see what she’s glaring at. The other Aspen man, of course. Nico’s huge chest, colossal shoulders, and massive neck are larger than I remember. As is the intensity of his focus on Raven.
He smiles at me, then nods at Raven, who’s already turned on her heels, her hips swaying as she struts away.
He sidles up to me. “Congrats on the space.”
“Thanks.” I wrench my neck back to see his face. His eyes are fixed on the direction Raven fled. “How long are you in town for?” I ask.
Finally, he looks at me. “What?”
“In town. How long are you staying?”
His gaze flicks over my shoulder again, then back to me. “A couple days. Just here for the guys.” Again, his focus leaves my face.
“You could go talk to her.”
“Yeah,” he says and nothing more. Then, “I need a drink.”
Not much of a talker.
I take another sip of wine, the alcohol having officially transported me to Happy Town, and beam at the crowd, readying myself to mingle. Until I see Kolton.
Two men are talking with him, both in slacks and button-downs, their clothes owning the men.
Kolton, on the other hand, is doing his outfit a favor.
He’s not a jacket-and-tie guy, choosing a simple white shirt, top two buttons undone.
A hint of chest hair. Broad shoulders. I’ve never seen him in dress pants before, but the pressed black wool is tailored perfectly to his narrow waist.
And his penetrating gaze locks on me.
He barely participates in his conversation after that. He sips his amber drink—probably bourbon—then says something to the guys, eyes still on me, before he prowls in my direction.
My heart pounds to the rock and roll beats. We’ve had sex every night this week. Not sweet sex. No sensual explorations. Rougher sex, almost desperate. Like we’re sailing into a storm, the rope holding us on course dragging through our fingers.
Tonight, the storm will finally break.
He stops in front me and presses his hand to the exposed skin of my back.
“You’re a fucking vision standing here. That dress…
” His heated gaze dips lower than my plunging neckline, the thin silk feeling transparent.
Unconcerned with my lipstick, he kisses me, slow but chaste.
“If this weren’t our grand opening, we’d be finding a dark corner. ”
I wipe the smear of red off his lips. “Lost your nerve, Axl? What happened to the daring guy from Aspen?”
It’s probably not professional to flirt with Kolton here, but I’m living in Happy Town, and his manly perfection is too perfect.
With how tense things have been between us, it’s fun to let loose.
Especially knowing I’m ready to make things work with him, the pieces of my life finally falling into place.
He rubs circles on my back. “The daring guy from Aspen took off. He’s looking for the woman he met on that trip. You know where he can find her?”
A not-so-subtle dig about my distance this week. “Yeah. I think I’ve located her. Maybe we can schedule a meeting later. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
Instead of softening, his body stiffens slightly. “Have you made a decision?”
God, I want to tell him I love him. That I choose him and will work to make sure we last while apart this year. But if I do that, I won’t be able to keep from tearing apart the buttons on his shirt. This conversation has to wait until later. “I have.”
He studies me, his eyes boring into mine, like he’s searching for a clue. Am I that hard to read? Does he not see how excited I am to be a part of his and Jackson’s life?
I spot Hilary over his shoulder, and she gestures for me to join her. Another part of my exciting future. “We’ll talk later. I promise. Hilary wants to speak with me.”
He drags his hand down his ponytail. “Sure,” he says. “It’s a date.”
With a quick kiss goodbye, I hurry up to Hilary, wanting to discuss this week’s upcoming work schedule, but everyone I pass stops me to praise my design work. Random people I vaguely know confirm what I hoped: I did an amazing job. My bubble of happiness grows larger, close to bursting.
When I reach Hilary, instead of bringing up my schedule or offering a normal hello, I say, “I’d love to accept your offer.”
I maybe should have spoken to Kolton before telling her, but I’m clearly too excited to wait.
She startles for a moment, then folds me into a hug. A first for her. “This is wonderful news.”
“I promise I won’t let you down. We’ll do great things together.”
She pulls back and straightens her black cocktail dress. “You should know, I’ve fired Maeve.”
I blink, wondering if this is a wonderful dream, not reality. “You fired Maeve?” I repeat.
She nods. “I’ve been onto her schemes for a while. I was about to let her go when Ramiro quit, but I couldn’t afford to be down two designers. As of this morning, Maeve and her god-awful accent are free to sabotage someone else’s firm.”
Tipsy Hilary is fun.
I raise my glass of wine. “Well then, here’s to fresh starts and conquering the Toronto design scene together.”
She smirks. “I’ll drink to that. We also have a new client in the wings, who you’ll love. You know Clutch Sucker?”
“The retro-style purse company taking the accessory world by storm?”
“The one and only. They heard about the work you did for Moondog and want a piece of you. Which means they want a piece of us.”
“Oh my God” is all I can manage.
Hilary laughs, clinks her glass against mine, then saunters into the crowd. I can’t wipe the silly grin off my face.