by Hadley Quinn
I chose to ignore her comment. “How was the game last night?”
She eyed me for a few seconds before answering. “Fine. Fun. It was fun. Glad Davey came. We were an hour late, but better than not at all.” She paused for a moment. “I got a weird vibe when I was at the auto shop he works at, Dane.”
I studied her for a moment to see if I could gain further insight to what she meant. But she was waiting for me to respond. “Like what kind of vibe?”
Shrugging, she answered, “I don’t know. I stopped by after work—like a quarter to seven—and he seemed really irritated. Said, ‘Why are you here? I told you I’d meet you at your place.’ I knew he’d told me that, I’m not even sure why I stopped by, but I told him something lame like I couldn’t remember what we’d decided and it was easier to stop by instead of text and drive. But he was really annoyed. I’m worried.”
“Maybe you just caught him on a bad day. Or he was trying to finish things up to be on time and you interrupted his flow.”
“I thought of that, too. But he was seriously sitting in the break room when I showed up. I mean I couldn’t see the break room from the lobby, but he came from around the corner where I know it’s at.”
I didn’t know what to think, and since I hadn’t been there or felt what she felt, I was a bit torn as to what to reply. “Not sure what to say. Did you ask him about it? Maybe he was in a dispute with someone in the break room. Maybe his boss was back there?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t see his boss, so… Maybe. I just know I got a really strange feeling. I didn’t like it. And I kept it light with Davey that night at the game. I think he had fun, but you know, he’s a bit reserved sometimes.”
Yeah, he was. Sometimes that silence in a person is a bit intimidating, and upon thinking about that, I realized that’s what it was about David that sometimes bothered me. Especially when it came to him working in my building. I guess I assumed he hated it there, or he didn’t like me, or he didn’t like the job. He was never vocal about much, so I assumed the worst.
“You know one major thing that breaks couples up?” Nat said, totally out of the blue.
I eyed her warily. I would have answered cheating or some sort of dishonesty, but something told me it wasn’t an obvious answer.
“Expectations,” she answered for herself. “Expectations. Expecting someone to behave a certain way, to respond a certain way, or expecting them to do certain things. When you’re always expecting of someone, you’re easily disappointed. You’re setting yourself up for frustration, and that frustration turns into anger, and that anger causes you to forget all of the good things. The disappointment eventually pulls on the relationship so much…it unravels. You give up because you let expectations take over instead of learning to be appreciative. If people could just appreciate what their significant other does for them instead of focusing on what they’re not doing, the relationship would improve tremendously. They say a strong relationship is built on trust? Well I say it also has to be built on genuine gratitude and respect.”
I had no words. It wasn’t because she’d said something I agreed with or disagreed with, but it was because I was thinking about my parents for a second. One of the conversations I’d had with my dad was something similar to what Nat was saying. I was pretty pissed with my mom and what she did, and I never did understand how my dad was so forgiving of her. But my dad had said, “When a woman comes to you more than once about a problem, it’s because she’s truly bothered by it. Never ignore it. Show her how much you love her by making her concerns a priority. I wish I’d done that a long time ago. Don’t make my same mistake.”
“Don’t make assumptions about people?” I asked for clarification. I thought back to the last week with Natalie. Or…kind of the last week without her. In a way I’d been trying to avoid her. Mainly because I refused to be changed by a woman, but mostly because I truly needed my space.
I mean…I think.
She was eyeing me pretty studiously. I had no idea if I’d answered wrong or not.
“Don’t take it there, Dane, I give you your space,” she stated defensively, like I’d just been arguing she hadn’t. “I do things for you because I want to, not because I feel you expect me to or that it’s expected of me based on society’s standards.”
She paused, so I nodded my head to assure I was listening.
With a heavy sigh, she tossed her hands into the air. “You act like I’m trying to mold you and I’m tired of it. So I’m just going to get all of this out in the open, okay? I like cooking for you, I like being around you, and I just like doing things for you in general. I don’t expect anything in return. I don’t expect you to change overnight and be open to a domesticated relationship with me with all the changes it entails. Sometimes I get the impression you like it, though. Then other times you act like I’m bothering you. Real talk. Can we just lay this out? What do you prefer and what I prefer?”
I could say I wasn’t too pleased with the invitation for discussing feelings and such, but maybe she had a point. We’d agreed to give a relationship a chance, but things still felt way too awkward. I felt like she was pushing without trying to push, but maybe I was reading too far into things.
“I love your cooking, Natalie. And I love being around you too. I’m not, however, comfortable with you just showing up whenever you feel like it, and I’m sorry if that’s me being a prick since you only do it to feed me, but you know I’m kind of a loner. And I’m just used to quiet when I come home, you know? I’m used to living on my own and I’ve never felt like I needed anything else.”
“Or anyone,” she added quietly.
Maybe that was it. Possibly I’d agreed to a relationship with Natalie because she’d pushed it on me, and now here we were doing what I pretty much knew we’d be doing sooner or later.
“I didn’t want anything to change,” I argued. “You knew who you were getting when—”
“That’s such bullshit,” she scoffed, waving me off. She stood. “‘You knew who you were getting,’” she mimicked. “You know how tired that is as an excuse?”
I felt my defenses react immediately. “Oh, so you really are one of those women who feel they can manipulate a man into whoever she wants him to be?”
She frowned at me. “No, Dane, that is not what I’m like. I’ve known you for five years and I know what kind of person you are. It’s just used as an excuse by men who don’t want to step up. It’s used as an easy way out of actually doing any work in a relationship. It’s a pathetic form of selfishness.”
“So I’m selfish,” I stated. Then I shrugged. “So be it. And if you know me so well, you should have predicted it.”
“Now you’re being childish.”
“You know what? I don’t really care what you call me. I’m selfish because I’m cautious? Fine. So why don’t we pick apart your character, huh? I think you’re manipulative. What do you have to counter that with?”
Her pause perplexed me. It totally glitched our argument. You’re not supposed to pause. It messes up the flow of the fight.
“I’m sorry you think I’m manipulative,” she answered softly. “I brought all of this up because I felt your annoyance with me. Bothering you is the last thing I want to do. But I kind of felt like you were reading me all wrong, and I’m right. I just wanted to clear the air. I’m not trying to get anything out of you, but I guess with your reaction to what I said, maybe you’re right. I apologize if I made you feel cornered, but that wasn’t my intention. I just like doing things for you.”
Her meekness humbled me a bit, but I still felt defensive. “But you admit that you were disappointed that I didn’t react in the way you wanted me to? Maybe you expected a little too much too soon?” Yeah, that was an asshole move. But she was the one who had brought all of it up. I did agree with her, though. Appreciate, don’t expect. It was a solid point.
“Yes, you’re right,” she nodded. “I do enjoy doing things for you, but I did expect something more in
return—like appreciation. I guess I’m being a hypocrite with my preaching.” She took a breath as she headed for the door. “I guess you answered my question. We’re not compatible as a couple. Can we just go back to being friends?”
I honestly viewed this as a moment where I was supposed to see the error of my ways and plead for her to come back to me. But I wasn’t going to do it. At the first sign of turbulence, she wants to bail?
“So let’s just go fuck and then you can be on your way?” I asked, motioning to the bedroom.
She stared at me for several seconds before giving me a middle finger, and then she left.
19
“Maybe you deserved that, or maybe you didn’t,” Madden said before taking a huge bite of a croissant. Crumbs dropped onto the floor of the conference room and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Basically that’s the kind of relationship we have—maybe I’m wrong or most likely I’m wrong—and obviously I’m not cut out for it.” I answered him as I bent down to scoop up his mess.
He finished off the last few bites and made himself a cup of coffee. “Meaning… there just is no right with Nat?” he asked.
I pondered that silently. We’d gone from fuck buddies to a relationship that barely had any sex. What the hell was up with that? And I knew I’d been a jerk because Natalie had apologized. She’d actually turned it into a fair fight and then I’d been the pussy who found an easy out.
She’d been right. She did know me well.
“Mr. and Mrs. Downing are here,” Janessa, one of our interns, said upon popping her head into the room.
I nodded and motioned for her to bring them back.
“Hey, psst,” Madden hissed after she left. I looked up at him, basically standing against the wall like he was trying to blend in with the beige paint. He looked like a fucking idiot.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He leaned forward to glance into the hallway, and then took a step off the wall. “Janessa asked me out last week,” he said.
I almost dropped the paper cup of coffee from my hand. “What? Well…that’s great. She’s cute. Seems smart—”
“I think she’s using me to get ahead.”
I’d paused mid-sentence, but the way he’d said that and how serious he looked made me have to choke back a laugh. “Wh-what?”
“Laugh all you want, prick face. But she’s suddenly been very interested in me. You know Clive is hiring one more next month. I’d say she’s a good candidate automatically, but I seriously think she’s been honey-potting me.”
That time I did laugh. “Come on, man. We don’t have a say in who Clive hires.”
“Technically, no. But he does ask our opinion.”
I considered that for a second, and yes, Madden was right. “Well, every intern has been told there is no ass kissing here. What would give her the impression you could sway him?”
He glanced away, looking totally guilty. “Ehhh…”
“What the fuck did you tell her?”
“I didn’t say anything to her,” he argued, coming across the room. He dropped into a chair. “I was talking to Steve in the kitchen a couple weeks ago. Looking back—based on the timing of all this—we’d been talking about Marcus getting hired last year, and when Steve said Clive had asked him what he thought of Marcus, I admitted that Clive had also asked me the same.”
“Yeah, he asked me as well.”
“Okay, then,” Madden gestured to me, like his point was justified. “But Janessa entered and grabbed something from the fridge.”
I waited for something more. “And?” I asked impatiently.
“Well duh, I think she heard us talking. Two days later, she started talking to me more. Then a couple days after that, she was hinting that she’d like to join us after work when we go out. Then a day after that, she mentioned taking me to some games. Her parents have season tickets to the Blazers.”
“Oh. Wow.” If that wasn’t honey-potting Madden, I wasn’t really sure what was. We both loved sports in general, but Madden was a die-hard basketball fan.
“Yeah, see?” he asked, knowing his point was made.
“Avoid her.”
He blinked at me like he didn’t hear me right.
“You understand me perfectly,” I added firmly. “Avoid her.”
“There aren’t any office dating policies here…”
“Madden, do yourself a favor and don’t let her use you. What happens if she does get hired? She dumps you? How awkward would that be? Or, what, you two fall in love and move yourselves into a shared office like Steve and Marisa?”
“They’re married.”
“So?” I scoffed.
“They were both accountants before they met and—”
“Madden, shut the fuck up. Now you’re trying to justify something you know you shouldn’t do. You brought it up because you know what she’s doing. Either call her out on it or learn the hard way.”
I saw my clients coming down the hall, so I motioned to Madden we’d discuss it later.
“Hey, good morning,” I said as the Downings entered.
“Hi, Dane,” Emily smiled.
“Dane,” Perry nodded at me.
The Downings were this super rich couple—early forties, no kids—who had quite the interesting idea for a home. It was the first home I’d designed that was sixty percent glass. Yep, windows galore, glass walls here and there, and a daylight basement with all glass on one side to showcase his car collection.
Well, at least that’s what they were about to realize at this appointment.
I sat them down at the conference table while Janessa offered them coffee or tea. As she served them, I pulled up my design on my laptop and began talking. A 3-D representation of their home appeared on a projection screen on the wall so they could see it better. I explained some of my ideas based on what they’d shared with me and their reactions were pleasing. Then I got to the glass display garage, and Perry may have popped a boner under the table.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered. He turned to his wife and grinned. “See that? You say my collection doesn’t get seen enough. Well how about that?”
“If you want, Perry, I could also do another fifteen feet of glass on the south corner here,” I pointed. “You said you’re planting trees along that section of your home, though. Not sure if that’s something you want to consider or not anyway.”
He set his chin in his hand and stroked his professionally trimmed beard. “Hmm. What do you think?” he asked me.
I teetered my head back and forth, but then rotated the design. “Well…kind of makes a cool option if you put a path right here. When people come to see your collection, this might be a nice little option for something extra special. I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
He looked at his wife and said, “The Veyron.”
She nodded.
Perry pointed at me and said, “Let’s do it. I like how you think.”
I sat down at the table and made a few changes on my laptop right in the moment. The Downings were discussing car placements, and all I could think about was that I struggled to even get my truck to fit in my garage. Yes, I lived in a nice neighborhood, but if I had the money to design anything I wanted…
I had no idea what I would spend it on.
“Here, how ‘bout that?” I asked, clicking a button to display the new model on the wall a few minutes later. They’d been busy with tea and coffee refills while I rotated the design so they could see the new glass on the south corner. I’d even put in a little path and some trees off to the side, just to give the full effect.
“Brilliant,” Perry grinned. “Let’s do it!”
I spent another thirty minutes with the Downings, and then somehow we ended up discussing Emily’s niece, Sasha.
“She’s thirty-four, an attorney, and lives here in Portland. Obviously she’s smart, but she’s also beautiful, Dane. I think you two would make a stunning couple.”
“Yes, I do believe I agree, sweetheart.”
“Smart and pretty aren’t really what I’m looking for,” I countered as kindly as I could.
“What are you looking for?” Emily inquired.
Someone who wasn’t bitch-ass crazy, I wanted to answer. But what was I looking for…? I had no clue. And it was probably because I wasn’t looking for anything.
“I’m just not in the dating scene right now,” I answered. “And to be honest, I’m an arrogant prick. I don’t think I could date someone older than me.”
Emily laughed and nudged her husband. “Oh that sounds familiar! Guess who’s twelve years older than who?” she asked me, motioning between them.
Looking between the two of them, I wouldn’t have guessed Perry to be younger. “No way, Mrs. Downing. It’s not possible.”
“Oh, it is,” she chuckled. “I met Perry through mutual friends. We went out one time and he found out I was twelve years older than him. I didn’t hear from him again.”
I looked at him wide-eyed. Emily really was stunning. And no, I would have never guessed her to be older than her husband. “Okay, now I see my stupid pride with my own eyes,” I joked to Perry.
He nodded. “Hey, it’s fine. I agree. I mean she was model material—still is model material,” he corrected. “I thought she was joking when she told me her age. I would have never guessed it. And yes, that completely intimidated me! But we did run into each other a few months later. I guess I wised up.”
I did the math in my head with my earlier thoughts that they were both in their early forties. I leaned forward toward Emily and dramatically whispered, “If you tell me you’re over fifty, I’ll never believe it.”
“Fifty-three,” she answered proudly.
“No way!” I laughed, slapping the table. “I would have never guessed it.”
“Plastic surgery works miracles,” she smiled.
