by Lee Kilraine
“That’s what I thought, yes.” Wyatt’s voice came out tense.
“Well, thanks.” Okay, for some stupid reason I was on the verge of tears, but I held on. I held up each letter one at a time, waving it in Wyatt’s face. “Rejection, rejection, rejection, and, oh look, another rejection. Gosh, Wyatt, I feel so good about my potential as a writer right now. This is just what I needed after last night.”
The muscle in Wyatt’s jaw clenched. “I was just trying to help. Obviously, I fucked up.”
“You think? I’m so mad at you right now. I just… I think I need some space from you.”
“You got it.” Wyatt smacked his hands on his thighs, then stood abruptly. “Oh, and you’ll love this news: Sam’s boutique space is finished. She moved her inventory yesterday. You’ll have your own office Monday morning.”
“Awesome. Looking forward to it.”
“Not nearly as much as I am.”
He left. Amazingly cool, normally careful and controlled Wyatt slammed my door on the way out.
Chapter 26
Rhia
Monday morning found me sitting at my kitchen table, sucking down coffee, when my sister let herself in my apartment. I’d managed to shower and dress, but so far, that was about it. I was having trouble finding the motivation to go to work. I guess back-to-back failure does that to a person. Although, I’d tried and failed at lots of things in my life, and I usually bounced right back.
Not today. Because I couldn’t get yesterday morning out of my head. I hated that Wyatt and I had had a fight. I felt Wyatt-less. Sure he didn’t like me much when I’d first moved into his office, but we’d sort of moved past good friends a few weeks ago. Toe-curling, panty-dropping orgasms will do that to you.
“If you’re here to confess you slept with Wyatt’s brother, I already know.” I’d had twenty-four hours to digest it, and it still weirded me out. “I can’t believe you slept with Eli. That’s just weird.”
“Well, I didn’t. He said I was only attracted to him for his super-sperm, so he wouldn’t sleep with me.”
I didn’t want to think about Wyatt’s brother’s sperm, let alone talk about it. No, I needed to pull myself together and figure out what I was doing next. Like maybe start by dragging myself into the office. My brand-new solitary office. The office I should be overjoyed over, so much so that I should be skipping to work.
I should be Maria twirling in the Swiss Alps.
Mary Richards tossing her blue beret in the air.
But between the lack of appreciation for the open house, the massive stack of ego-deflating rejections, and the fight with Wyatt, I was having trouble finding any enthusiasm for work this morning. I wasn’t feeling it. I’d need a bulldozer to dig out from under all this rejection that had been dumped on my head the last forty-eight hours.
I contemplated changing the name of my business to Seize Next Week, stuffing my face with chocolate, and crawling back into bed.
“Not to be rude, Steph, but I’ve got to get to work.” I loved my sister, but after last night, I was feeling like someone had scrubbed the inside of my chest with steel wool and then poured lemon juice on it. “What do you want?”
“Well, I spent the night with Eli last night and we got to talking….” Steph grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured herself coffee.
“You just said you and Eli didn’t spend the night together.” I got the milk from the fridge, handed it to her, then slumped back in my chair and kept pushing the caffeine.
“No, I said we didn’t have sex. But he was willing to be a test subject for my sports drink—”
“The one you tested on me and made me swell up like a puffer fish? That sports drink?” Wonderful. The Thorne brothers probably wished they’d never met the Hollis sisters.
Steph nodded. “Yes, but I revamped the formula since your test. No hives this time.”
“Thank goodness.” I took a swallow of coffee, hoping to cut the stress headache I woke up with so I could feel almost human before I tackled my life.
“Yeah. I’ll have to make more adjustments to eliminate the four-hour erection.”
Coffee sprayed out of my mouth. “A four-hour erection? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Wish I could. I will say Eli was a trooper about it.”
“Wait, he had a four-hour erection and still turned you down for sex?”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” Steph said. “But it was still a great data set.”
“Steph, do you have a point to this visit, because I don’t want to know about, think about, or talk about one of Wyatt’s brothers’ four-hour anything’s.” I still had to look Eli in the eye at the SBC offices.
“I do.” Steph pulled out the kitchen chair next to me, scraping the legs over the tile floor until she had turned the chair facing me and sat down. “Talking with Eli was very eye-opening. It helped me realize I owe you an apology. A big one.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, not sure what she owed me an apology for. “Is this about those hives, because I’m over that.”
Steph pulled in a big breath and locked eyes with mine. “No. Rhia, I’ll admit that as smart as I am, I am not very good with people. I guess I knew it, but I didn’t understand how much it was affecting my life—and yours.”
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”
“Eli helped me see what life in our family has been like for you. We keep expecting you to be more like us, and I’m sorry.”
“How in the heck did he do that?” Goodness, how had he been able to help Steph see things I’d been trying to get my family to see my whole life? And Eli did it in four hours?
“Eli compared our family to Hashimoto’s disease. You’re the perfectly healthy thyroid gland. The rest of the family is the immune system. We’ve been attacking you for no valid reason for a long time.”
Okaaaay. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it was true that I’d felt attacked over the years.
“To be honest, I think I’ve been jealous of you for a long time.”
“Why would you be jealous of me? You’re gorgeous and brilliant.” If anything, I should be jealous of her. Only thinking on it, I never had been. I’d just always wanted her to like me more. To understand me.
“Because you’re everything I’m not. You’re great with people. People actually like you. A lot. You’re funny and creative. All those things that make it impossible for you to fit in our family are all the things I wish I could be.”
My breath caught in my windpipe because this was the first time someone in my family actually gave me praise for the very things that kept me the outsider. The first person since Nona, that is. I had to swallow past the tightness in my throat.
“Steph, I didn’t think any of you understood how much it hurt to feel like the outcast in my own family. I’m seriously touched right now.”
“Well, that’s just it. I didn’t. Not until Eli. He had me step out of my ‘I’ and see things from your perspective. He helped me walk through your life, trying to see and understand growing up in our family from your point of view.” She shook her head. “Oh, Rhia. I didn’t think a thing when Mom stood in front of everyone and made my big announcement at the open house. I just ate up all the praise like it was my due.”
I reached over, squeezing her hand. “It’s a fantastic accomplishment, Steph. You should be proud. I’m proud of you.”
“See this? This right here is one of the reasons I’m jealous of you. You’re so dang nice. And empathetic. You always, always put other people before yourself. But stop it for one second. Because—and I’m ashamed I had to have Eli point this out to me—that should have been your moment. You performed a major miracle saving the employee appreciation event for Mom, and she should have praised you. Not me. It was your moment.”
The pain and disappointment that had sliced me op
en in that moment took another swipe at me. “I actually thought she was going to thank me. To say how proud she was of me.”
“I really am sorry, Rhia. Sorry I never noticed before. Sorry I jumped on the family bandwagon and treated you like you weren’t as successful or worthy as the rest of the Hollis clan.”
I won’t lie; I teared up. Having Steph finally see the way it was in my family meant so much. Like I wasn’t on the Island of Misfits by myself. Not that she was on the island with me, but you know, like she was waving to me from over on her island. Still alone but less lonely.
“I thought about this a lot last night,” Steph said. “I think you should stop trying.”
“Stop trying what? To be successful?” I wasn’t sure I was following. “I think I’m a darn good event planner. Part of that is because I do have good people skills. And since Mom wasn’t willing to, I’ll toot my own horn, but I worked my butt off to pull Mom’s open house together even if she doesn’t know it. So, why should I stop trying?”
“No. I mean stop trying to make our family proud. Stop trying to make Mom and Dad proud. It pains me to say this, but it’s not going to happen.” Steph’s gaze flicked around the room before she sat up straight and forced her eyes to mine. “It’s just not.”
Deep down, I knew that. I’d just never let myself admit it. Hearing Steph say it flat out, felt a lot like getting stabbed with a flaming fireplace poker. Not that I knew what that felt like, but I could imagine. I imagined it hurt real bad. “No matter what I do, they’ll never be proud of me. I thought if I was a successful business woman—”
“I don’t think so. Unless you win the Nobel Peace Prize in chemistry or figure out cold fusion, it’s not going to happen. But that’s a reflection on them, not you, Rhi. I guess what I’m saying is do what makes you happy. What makes you happy?”
“I don’t know. I like event planning, and I’m good at it.” Was it sad that I’d spent so many years trying to be someone my parents would approve of that I’d lost myself in the process? Yes. Maybe even pitiful.
“But does it make you happy?”
Huh. Wyatt made me happy. I did him. That crashed and burned. “I don’t know.”
“Well, is it your passion?”
I sat back and stared at Steph. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
“I know, right? Eli and I talked about a lot of shit during those four hours. I feel like I’m looking at life through a new lens.”
“I’m not sure I even know what I’m passionate about anymore.” Not since Nona died.
“Here’s what I remember. I remember back in high school you used to love writing. You carried those Harriet the Spy notebooks around and scribbled in them all the time. You even won a partial scholarship with a story you wrote.”
I had. But it was toward a BA in creative writing. Not a degree my parents were willing to help pay for. I’d put away my writing and my notebooks and thrown myself into studying business with my parents’ semi-enthusiasm. (Still not science! But also not “throwing money away” on creative writing.)
“I know Mom and Dad steered you away, but maybe writing’s your passion. Have you thought about picking it back up?”
“Ha!” I slapped my hand on the pile of letters in front of me. “This pile of rejection slips from editors and agents says writing is a no.”
“Oh, bummer. I’m sorry.” Steph frowned at the stack, then patted my hand with hers. “But we’ll figure something out for you. Just don’t give up while we’re working on it.”
“We?”
“Yep. I’m in your corner, Rhia.” My sister pointed at me and stood. “I’m hungry. Mind if I make some eggs?”
“No, go ahead. I’ve got to get to work, so lock up when you leave.” I grabbed my keys, briefcase, and a coffee to-go.
“Rhia?”
“Yeah?”
“You kicked major ass with the open house. And I know this doesn’t mean much, but I’m damn proud of you.”
I walked over and hugged her. “Actually, it means a lot. Thanks.”
Chapter 27
Wyatt
I sat in my office on Monday afternoon, the office I finally had all to myself again for the first time in over two months, and something felt off. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, though. Could be the quiet. Could be the lack of some orphaned animal loose about the office and needing regular feedings every two hours. Could be the return to my neutral color palette. It could be that my drafting table was nine inches to the left as Rhia had been moving it an inch a week, thinking I wouldn’t notice. I noticed.
I figured we’d be sharing an office long enough for me to find out what her ultimate goal was. Nope. Probably just claiming territory. I don’t know why she bothered. She’d already staked out space in my brain. I could still hear her laugh. And her singing. Bits and pieces of our conversations kept going around my head. No matter how much I tried to shut her out.
For a guy who liked—no, needed—time alone in my office just a few months ago, I’d changed. Like a one-eighty-degree about-face. Because unbelievably, even though it was the first day of having my office back to normal, back to not sharing it, fuck me if it wasn’t too quiet.
Instead of sitting across the room talking to herself, singing songs under her breath, or laughing into her phone—Rhia was down the hall in her own office doing who knows what.
What was she doing? Returning calls? Interviewing clowns? Planning parties for sixteen-year-olds and knowing the exact playlist and color of cupcakes sixteen-year-olds like? Because she did all that and more.
It was when I caught myself staring out the window at nothing that I decided I needed to cut the crap out. Fuck. Was I crazy? I had a quiet office for the first time in months, and I had a test to make up. Why was I wasting valuable time?
I could retake the failed section in sixty days. Frustrating that I’d delayed my own goal, but now with my quiet solitary office, I had no excuse not to pass this section and all the rest. Right. What the eff was I waiting for? I grabbed my study textbook, pulled it front and center, fired up my computer, pulled up the practice tests, and got down to business.
For about two seconds. I found myself tapping my pen on the desk unable to think in the quiet…so quiet…too fucking quiet.
I looked over to where Rhia’s desk used to sit…gone. Just like Sister. Just like my cat. I meant the cat. Not my cat. I didn’t need a cat.
I refocused on the space where Rhia used to sit. The space looked empty and sparse. It felt like the landscape after nuclear Armageddon. Not a world I wanted to live in.
This being alone shit was for lunatics. Who wanted to be alone? It felt like solitary confinement in prison. A penalty for wrongdoing.
Ah, well, there it was, right? I had done wrong. I’d messed up. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed and blown a friendship—no—much more than a friendship—to pieces.
Get a grip.
I shoved my face back into my study guide and forced myself to read through the notes on plumbing. The part of the test I’d failed. When I caught myself rereading the same sentence for the third time, I knew this whole theory of studying without distractions was a crock.
I searched Spotify until I found one of Rhia’s playlists. Guess which one? Yep. Her Get down, get funky playlist. Maybe now I could get lost in building systems for a while. I started on my notes, but before long, I found myself closing my eyes and singing along to “Brick House” and “She’s a Bad Mama Jama,” and maybe I was just about to play the air drums with my pencils at the good part when it hit me what was different about today.
I didn’t want to study for my architecture test. Not at all. It wasn’t that I was tired or even discouraged. It was that I couldn’t get Rhia’s voice out of my brain, no matter how much I tried.
Are you sure you love architecture? I don’t thi
nk it’s what feeds your soul, Wyatt.
Of course it is.
No, pretty sure it isn’t.
Then since you know more about me than I apparently know about myself…tell me, Rhia, what does feed my soul if not architecture?
Woodworking.
How did she see what I hadn’t? Because I hadn’t been willing to admit it. Who the fuck did I think I was, pushing her to reach for her dream while I wasn’t willing to risk admitting mine—let alone go after it.
Hell, I’d forced Rhia into hers, sending out her book to the list of publishers and agents I’d researched. Thanks to me, she had to deal with massive rejection on the heels of her mother’s insensitivity. Yet, here I sat on my ass, too afraid to be honest with myself or my brothers.
Rhia faced her truth. Get off your ass and face yours. I stood and made my way down to Beck’s office, rolling my shoulders back and channeling my nerve before knocking on the door.
“Yeah!”
I sucked in a breath of air and went in to talk to Beck. “Hey, Beck, you got a minute?”
“Sure, come on in,” Beck said from behind his desk. He had Excel spreadsheets on both his computer screens and receipts strewn all over the place, so it was a good guess he was preparing to meet with our accountant. “What’s up?”
I sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, but stood back up again, walked over to his bookshelves, then over to his windows. I shoved my hands into my pockets, found the well-worn button, and considered the best way to broach the topic.
“Wyatt? I’m all ears.”
I turned to find Beck had set down his pencil and sat back in his chair with his light blue eyes examining me closely. Right. I sat back down in the chair.
“I don’t want to be an architect.”
“Huh.” Beck steepled his fingers together in front of his face while he stared at me. “You’ve taken me by surprise, that’s for—”
“Beck, have you seen the—oh, hey, Wyatt.” Eli was halfway into the office when he paused, looked back and forth between us, and stopped in his tracks. “Am I interrupting something?”
