Whatever Happens Next (Triplets Book 2)

by Stacy Lane

  “I have no clue why you want to live here, Chels. Humidity is the most unflattering thing in existence. Even more than fanny packs.” Lill walks over with my lone shoe and a paper towel.

  Listening to them, one would think sweating is improbable for a person in Canada.

  “Did you not get the new client?” Mel asks, refilling the glass for me.

  Well, for herself, but I reach for it again.

  “No. I didn’t get the client.” I chug back the red wine, my sisters’ faces changing into ones of disgust when some dribbles down my chin.

  I had an appointment this morning with a high profile client. The homeowner’s assistant made it clear to me they were shopping around for an interior designer. I came as a recommendation, but the man I spoke with would not reveal who I might be working for, or who gave him my name.

  My sisters begged to come along as my “employees” to feed their own curiosity. I snuck out while they were getting ready. Not an easy feat when we were all occupying the same bathroom. But I grew up with them. I knew how to play the game.

  “So who was it? A billionaire from a Fortune 500 company or movie star?” Lill bounced with excitement.

  Her peppiness now is how I felt this morning when I drove my car in the circular driveway and walked up to the giant, shiny black door with a brass knocker. The front porch had pillars extending the same height as the house. The old, newly remodeled white home sparked my creativity like nothing before.

  I felt great about that meeting.

  The assistant showed me around, explained how the owner’s furniture didn’t match the style of his new home. I saw that for myself. The house was spacious and brought in a ton of sunlight. There was an echo to the walls and floors that might never go away due to its age, but I had tricks to help that. The current pieces I found in the living room were bulky and dark. It suffocated the place.

  Marcus, the owner’s personal assistant, was in charge of hiring a designer. Seemed the owner wanted nothing to do with the details and only requested he gets someone that doesn’t gouge him out of thousands of dollars. One look at this house and you saw dollar signs. I, however, saw the in I needed into the elite.

  They wanted every room to be restyled, and a few to have a complete redesign.

  Okay, maybe I saw a few dollar signs. The place had a crapload of rooms!

  Marcus was a spunky twenty-one year old. He’s only had his job for a few months but praised his boss very highly. I saw a beautiful garden from the kitchen window, and he informed me it was one of three. He showed me around the property even though all my work would be happening inside the home.

  Afterward, Marcus led me to an office to discuss my fees. I was nowhere near gouging, but as the numbers fumbled out of my mouth, I felt a little sick. An ill feeling of hope that I got hired for this project.

  Marcus was making notes in his iPad, while I was putting mine away. I jotted down ideas as we toured the rooms. I had pre-made mood boards for every style.

  The owner didn’t have a preference.

  The entire design would be to my choosing. I wanted to play off its brightness. Work with the original hardwood floors and bookshelves.

  “We are looking at two other designers besides you. Your prices are way better, but to be honest, my boss is all about efficiency, and well, you’re a one-woman show. This is a big place. The other designers have teams, employees or outsourced companies they are familiar with. I’m guessing you’ll have to hire some people for this job?”

  “Yes, but it won’t be a problem.” God, I hope not. I could find people just fine, but I needed to find quality help.

  “I appreciate your mood boards, by the way. The others had all these questions they needed to be answered before they could show me their take on decorating.”

  “Well, don’t fall for me quite yet. I have requirements as well. But based on what I saw and the little bit you told me about your boss, that’s why I could show you some of my plans.”

  “But that’s efficient.” He wiggled his finger to emphasize his point. “And you came highly recommended.”

  I started at Kate’s house over a week ago. Could this house belong to a friend of hers? They would definitely run in the same circles just based on the square footage of this place.

  “Do you mind if I ask by whom?” I fold one arm over the other when a shiver runs across my skin.

  Marcus glances toward the entrance of the office. He released an “ah,” as in perfect timing to my question.

  “Chelsea.” Alex’s voice crawls up my spine.

  The universe hates me.

  Right when I begin to push him from my mind—a little harder to do after the island—he reappears by twisted, out-to-get-me fate.

  He’s the boss, the owner, the elite client I’ve been silently praying to be hired by.

  Then again, not much fate to it if Alex was the one who recommended me.

  He stands impassive in the doorway. Back in the suit with a clean-shaven jaw.

  The room is lined on both sides with shelves. A wall of windows is at the back, overlooking an extensive, French-inspired patio. It’s the perfect, idyllic spot to be the backdrop of a desk. I already had a new one in mind to replace the clunk of mahogany sitting here now.

  “You’re one of the designers.” Alex appears unsuspecting.

  Taken aback, I sharpen my gaze. “You didn’t request me?”

  Disappointment presses down on my shoulders.

  “No.” He glowers at Marcus. “Did Cam put you up to this?”

  I gape at the indignation in his voice. Could he try to hide his objection a little less?

  Yeah, I thought it would be more uncommon to see him again. We ran in the same circles, but the overlapping rings were rare.

  I wasn’t expecting us to be friends because we slept together. We parted ways like adults, but now he was acting like a child. Mad that I stomped all around his sandbox without his knowledge.

  Marcus stands still as a statue. Dressed in his bright pink button-down, his facial expression is the best representation of “what the hell is happening right now?”

  “I guess you can limit your decision down to two.” I’m addressing Marcus, even though I’m glaring at Alex.

  “Chelsea, that came out wrong.” Alex pinches the bridge of his nose.

  My hopes of getting this job dashed in an instant. That sucked, but feeling unwelcome by Alex bothered me more. The island, our moment by the cave, was two weeks ago. I’ve hung out with Jo and gone to Triplets a couple times. We’ve never come across each other once. The days were passing as we once said they would.

  Except I was always looking and hoping to run into him somewhere.

  His home, however, was not in that likelihood. Neither was his rude greeting.

  “You were the first person I thought of for this job. I just also thought it would be weird and…”

  “Unprofessional?” I mock.

  His eye twitches.

  “You’re mom recommended her, sir,” Marcus slips in casually.

  I should have known. Not fate, but the Labelles.

  It will be a pity-hire if he asks me by this point. I’m standing in front of him, we’ve had history, and his mother set up this meeting.

  Alex groans.

  I pick up my large tote bag I set on a horrendous table by the fireplace. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alex nodding and communicating with his assistant in some silent code.

  “Ms. Lewis, I think you are the perfect designer for this project, and we’d like to—”

  “No.” I delicately place my bag in the crook of my arm. Holding myself with poise and professionalism on the outside, I’m stomping and screaming suck suck suck on the inside.

  “Er. No?” Marcus glances at his boss nervously.

  “I’m not taking the job. Good luck, Marcus.” Strutting toward the door, I head right for Alex who blocks it with his broad shoulders and sexy, imperious frown.

  “Why the hell not?
” Alex has the nerve to look offended.

  I brushed past him in the tiny space between his arm and the doorframe, shaking with incredulity.

  “Bye, Alex.”

  Then I got in my car and drove home.

  Hence the shoe throwing and wine chugging.

  “Spit it out already.” Lill removed the deep glass from my mouth.

  Right. Spit out the client’s name, not the wine. Never the wine.

  “Neither,” I answer, remembering her guesses. “I dealt with his assistant the whole time. They’re going with someone else.”

  “Well, their house is going to look like crap,” Addy says.

  My sister’s unwavering support and blind confidence bring a smile to my face.

  They could be such pushy mother hens, but they always said the right words.

  “Speaking of men…” Mel sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. Lill and Addy choked on her subtlety. “Now that you are getting settled in, have you thought about dating?”

  “No. That is the farthest thing from my mind.” I stepped into the kitchen. Small as it may be, the builders packed it with tons of cabinets. It sat to the right of the dining room and left of the living room. The side facing the living room was a half wall with three pendant lights that I already changed out the fixtures to with clear, rustic glass I found on clearance at Ikea.

  “I ran into Gerry,” Mel says.

  “Don’t make it sound like a coincidence. You work with him.” Gerry was blind date number one. Mr. Laughs.

  “Whatever. He said the date went well,” Mel goes on.

  “It was fine. He was funny.” I shrug.

  Addy sucks in air. “Thank you, next.”

  “Huh?” Mel’s lip curls with confusion.

  “Ariana Grande,” Lill answers with a duh.

  Mel’s blank stare leads to two minutes of Addy and Lill singing the song. Mel, always persistent, does not let that stray her from the original topic.

  “Why not see him again?”

  “For starters, he lives in Vancouver.”

  “It’s not like you’re going to live here for very long.”

  Behind my closed bathroom door that opened on two sides, the bedroom and right by the dining room, I walked out before my shirt was pulled all the way down. I changed out of my work clothes while Lill and Addy prepped for karaoke.

  “Why do you think I got my visa?”

  “To prove a point to your ex-husband,” she deadpans.

  Shaking my head, I step back in front of my mirror. Pulling the small pin that held all of my curls up for that interview this morning, I let the mass fall down and around my shoulders.

  “What’s your type?” Addy calls out.

  “How should I know. I’m new to this single search.” My fingers curve around my neck as a memory inserts itself at the forefront of my thoughts.

  “You should wear your hair up more. I like seeing your neck exposed.”

  That only came forward because I just saw Alex today.

  “Should still know your type. It’ll help weed through the options out there.”

  “Do not try anything tonight.” I point at all three of them.

  It’s karaoke night at Triplets. We’re meeting my friends there. All it took to convince my sisters were the words bar and open mic.

  Someone knocks at my door.

  I close the three feet from the bathroom to the entrance of my apartment. Not much in the way of a foyer, so why they title it that way in a floor plan baffles me.

  I expected my vibrant, very agile elderly neighbor. She baked my sisters and me brownies earlier as a welcome. I was for sure she’d never speak to me again when Addy asked if she baked any “special batches.” Elise tossed the container in her hands right into the garbage and went back to her apartment to bake pot brownies. “You are my kind of girls,” Elise yelled through the hallway before we heard her door snap shut.

  I would never be able to eat anything Elise brings over from here on out.

  But the person on my doorstep was not my firecracker neighbor.

  “Did you follow me?”

  Again with the offended look, Alex replies, “No. I called Jo. Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  Alex rocks back on his heels. “Chelsea, I want you to take the job.”

  “Didn’t seem like you did.”

  “I feel like an ass. Marcus could find a thousand interior designers, but I know you would be better than all of them.”

  I fold my arms.

  “I saw your work, the mood boards you sent him. You’re perfect for this job.”

  “I know I am.”

  “Then why turn it down?” he cocks his head with a smirk.

  “Because you were an ass when you found out your mom interfered.”

  “That wasn’t meant to be aimed at you. My damn brothers told Mom and Dad about us. This is them playing matchmaker again.”

  “Families do that,” I grind out, having felt similar disgruntles toward Mel moments ago.

  “It’s really hot out here.” He raises a hand to indicate we should step inside.

  “Don’t walk around everywhere in a full suit, then.”

  Alex drops his arm. Taking a breath, he says, “The whole reason I’m redesigning my house is for you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He smells nice. I wonder if he gives the dry cleaners a separate bottle of his cologne so it’s washed in it.

  “I wanted to hire you from the beginning. It was an excuse to see you again. Then I realized that was the wrong way of going about it, so I crossed your name off Marcus’s list.”

  “If you wanted to see me, you could be doing that for free.” I was nice and accepting on the island. Then I got home and thought about every little detail of those three days, and I just couldn’t understand why.

  He had reasons that logically made sense. His career was important to him. So was mine. The night by the cave changed it all. I couldn’t ignore my feelings for Alex. I may not have physically seen him in the weeks following, but I knew eventually I would. And my gut told me these heavy, fervent emotions were not going to slip away like time.

  “There are reasons I can’t, Chelsea.”

  So incredibly stubborn! Why do I fall for men who always put their work before me?

  That’s what I needed to be doing. Putting my new career before my feelings. As I figured out while walking the extensive space of his home, this job would start up my business how I dreamed it would go.

  “I’ll send Marcus my quote and the down payment I require up front.” I grab the door and step back.

  “When will you start?” His smoky eyes churn with a darker shade.

  “No no no. None of that.” I wave a finger at his face, eating up the space I tried putting between us.

  “What’d I do?”

  “That look. You can’t look at me like that.”

  “Describe the look.” Alex steps up to the threshold, leaning a shoulder on the frame.

  My heart skips, my stomach twists, and heat floods further down.

  “Like you want to rip my clothes off,” I tell him with a blunt depiction.

  Alex’s face heats with unfiltered desire. He said we can’t be together. He definitely wants to be, though.

  “I’ll be in and out most of the time, so you’ll be dealing with Marcus for the reno. Take the job, and I’ll work on my clothes ripping glances.”

  Glance, pfft. The man is way too intense to give anything just a glance.

  “Ugh. Now you want to make jokes.”

  “Trying to be funnier,” he grins.

  I hold onto the door, matching his smile. I don’t know when, but I moved even closer to Alex at some point in the battle. Every time is magnetic with him. My body takes control. And apparently, my mind loses track of all surroundings.

  I forgot about my sisters. Who were now behind the door, listening and watching everything Alex and I said.

 
“So that’s her type,” Addy says.

  “Hockey player,” Lill adds with a small moan.

  I press against the wall, exposing my sisters to Alex. They smile and wave.

  “Almost didn’t recognize you with a shirt.” Addy shuffles closer.

  “You should take it off so we can verify that’s who you are.” Lill blinds him with a dashing smile and a wink.

  Mel stands tall in the center. “The high profile client from this morning, I take it.”

  “You should run,” I whisper to Alex.

  “It feels like I’m staring at myself, Brooks, and Cam. As women.” He stays put near the door.

  “Uncanny, I know,” I murmur.

  “You got the job.” Lill claps.

  “Seems like it comes with benefits too,” Addy says, smug.

  “Chelsea, you cannot sleep with your client.” Mel comes forward, stepping in the small space with Alex and me.

  “I sleep with clients all the time.” Addy waves off Mel’s reprimand. “As long as you can be adults about it, it doesn’t become a problem.”

  “Okay, this is not happening.” I shoo Mel away from the entrance. “My sisters are not discussing my sex life with my door wide open.”

  I faintly hear another door closing in the hallway and groan. My neighbors are going to think I run a brothel.

  “Ooh, Chelsea, will there be more men like this one around often?” Elise sashays over, holding another red container. She doesn’t bother disguising where her eyes are wandering. “This is why I refused to go into an old folks home. Men do not look like him in there.”

  “Most men don’t look like him.” I understand the draw Elise is feeling.

  Alex flashes a mouth full of white teeth. Elise began breathing a bit heavier, and I worried she was having similar heart palpitations to mine.

  “Gerry sure doesn’t compare,” Lill says.

  “Yeah, Mel, so break the news to the poor sap.”

  “Who’s Gerry?” Alex’s clipped question has me hiding a smile.

  Some would say jealousy is an ugly trait, but Alex looks pretty freaking hot in green.

  I step aside to let Elise through. “Someone who tells many, many jokes.”

  His gaze narrows.

  Addy pops up on my left with the red container. “Don’t worry, good lookin’. She doesn’t like them that funny. Want one?”