by Ethan Asher
“How did you—”
“Know?”
“Okay, that one wasn’t that—”
“Impressive?”
"Okay, you need to—"
“Stop?”
She groans, rolling over onto her side as she pulls a pillow over her head.
I slide in next to her, big spoon to her little, wrapping my arms around her. “You know you love it.” She humphs and grumbles and groans, but eventually, she relents.
“Maybe a little,” she mumbles.
I kiss her in between her shoulder blades. “I’ll get on those pancakes.”
“Don’t forget the chocolate chips.”
“How could I?”
I've known Charleigh for a long time. There's hardly a single thing that I don't know about her. I know she chews the inside of her mouth when she's nervous. I know how she takes her coffee—not at all, unless she can’t grab her usual decaf latte. I know that she prefers fall to any other season because, for her, pumpkin-spiced desserts and beverages are life.
But even though I know so much about her already, there’s still more I uncover each day. And as long as she’ll let me, I’ll continue to do so.
After pulling on a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, I step into Charleigh’s unicorn slippers.
“Those look nice,” Charleigh says, propping her head up with her hand as she lies on her side, watching me.
“I think they draw out the sparkle in my eyes.”
She snorts. “Oh God, why do I like you so much?” she says, falling onto her back.
“So you admit that you like me?”
“Reluctantly.”
I rap my knuckles against the nightstand. “I’ll take it.”
I head downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Morning, Guy.” Deanna’s sitting in her usual spot at the kitchen table. She’s eyeing me over her magazine.
“Morning, Deanna. I thought I’d make pancakes.”
“That sounds lovely. I made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Great.”
Deanna bows her head, directing her attention back to her magazine. But as I rummage through the cabinets, grabbing all the ingredients for the pancakes, I can’t help but feel like her attention’s back on me.
“How was the party?”
“It was great,” I say, measuring out the flour. “Everyone seemed to be having a great time.”
“Then why did you and Charleigh come home so early?”
Well, shit.
We haven't told anyone that we're dating. Charleigh's been clear that no one should know until after the renovation in case something slips out and finds its way to Florence + Foxe. I've been fine with it because I don't want her to get in trouble for breaking company policy, no matter how much I disagree with it.
"We have an early morning today. There are a few things we both need to deal with at the house."
I feel bad about bending the truth. We do need to go to the house today, but it doesn’t have to be early. I just can’t tell Deanna the real reason why we both left so early.
She seems to be satisfied with the answer, and I go back to making the pancakes. Just as I’m pouring the batter into the pan for the first pancake, Deanna asks me the question she’s clearly had on her mind for a while.
“When are you two going to stop pretending you’re not dating?”
I fumble for a few seconds, trying my best to come up with an answer. Thankfully, I don’t need to find an answer. When I turn around, I see Charleigh.
“Right now,” she says as she crosses the kitchen wearing my flannel t-shirt and sleeping shorts. She stops right in front of me, rolls up on the balls of her feet, and kisses me.
“About time,” Deanna says contentedly.
“About time, indeed,” Charleigh says as her heels smack into the ground.
I can’t even think of anything to say because my mind is racing. My heart is racing. I’ve never felt so much emotion for a person before.
“The pancakes are burning again,” Deanna says.
“Shit!”
It doesn’t take long for Charleigh to notice that I’m not helping her sweep dirt and debris from the kitchen floor.
“Are you going to help me sweep, or are you going to continue to stare?”
It’s hard not to stare when your dream girl is standing right in front of you. The grin on my lips widens as Charleigh’s expression grows more and more annoyed.
“Stare.”
She huffs, shakes her head, and then resumes sweeping. “I can’t believe Ryder hasn’t cleaned this up.”
I laugh, my eyes still fixed on Charleigh. "He's not finished yet. We haven't even done the blue tape walk-through.”
She pauses, stares at me for a moment, and then resumes without a word.
"It's amazing, Charleigh. I wish you could stop for a moment and take it in."
Charleigh's design went above and beyond my wildest expectations. Even though the house looks nothing like the house I grew up in, she's been able to capture the essence that I felt when I lived here. It's cozy, inviting, and more of a home than it's felt to me in years.
I let my broom fall to the ground and head for Charleigh. Her head’s down as she sweeps, so when I grab her broom, she jumps.
“Let go.”
She frowns at me, tightening her grip around the broom. “Nope.”
She tries to keep sweeping, but she can hardly move the broom a few inches with me holding on to it. After a few moments of struggle, I let go of the broom. She looks at me with a face that tells me she thinks she’s won this one.
How adorable.
I take her face in my palms and kiss her. She's tense, but after a few moments, she lets go of the broom. Her hands move along my arms, onto my shoulders, until finally they reach my back and latch onto my back. She wraps her legs around my waist as I hold her up, moving slowly to the island behind us. We separate for a brief moment as I set her down on the island.
“Marissa and Jamie will be here any—” I silence her protests with my mouth, but only for a moment. She presses her palms against my chest and giggles against my lips before she pulls away again. “Just hold on.”
I weave my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, tighten my grip and then pull. “As you wish.” We continue kissing, our tongues crashing into each other. I could kiss Charleigh forever and it wouldn’t be long enough.
“You need to stop,” I say, pulling away from her.
Charleigh’s out of breath and looking at me like I’m the strangest thing she’s seen in her entire life. “Stop what?”
“Being so amazing.”
It takes a few moments for her to register the off-the-charts level of corniness. But when it does, she bursts into an uncontrollable fit of laughter that takes more than a few minutes for her to come down from.
I don’t mind it. I love it when she laughs, even if it’s at my expense.
“Are you done?” I ask after she settles down.
She takes in a few deep breaths as she tries to calm her breathing. Finally, she says, “No,” and begins it all again until I take the wind out of her sails with another kiss.
“Well, don’t stop on our account.”
The voice comes from behind us. Charleigh and I break apart and turn to see Marissa and Jamie smiling back at us. Well, Marissa’s smiling back at us. Jamie’s doubled over laughing.
“I told you,” Marissa says, smacking him on the arm.
Charleigh hops off the island and does her best to rearrange her hair and dress. “Marissa! Jamie! So glad you could make it. Let me show you around.”
Charleigh's a professional at pushing through awkward situations, and right now she's teaching a master class. I'm actually in awe over how quickly she switched into work mode. And she is in work mode because right now she's trying to win Marissa over on a vision for her wedding.
The whole reason why Marissa and Jamie are touring my house is to figure out if it would be a suitable repl
acement for their wedding and reception. Unfortunately, complications at their other venue made it impossible for them to have their wedding there. With their options for finding a new venue on short notice being limited, they nearly postponed the wedding until Charleigh swooped in and offered my house as a possibility.
I hadn't thought about it, but after listening to Charleigh's vision, I have no doubt she'd be able to make it work. And knowing Charleigh, she's going to go above and beyond what anyone expects.
“Just imagine standing in front of this soaring stone-faced fireplace, taking your vows—”
“This place is nothing like I remember,” Jamie says, strolling back into the kitchen.
“Shouldn’t you be taking the tour?”
Jamie shrugs. “Marissa’s going to make the call. And from what I’ve seen so far, I’m pretty sure she’s sold on it.” He rubs the back of his head as he looks around the kitchen. “It’s really amazing. I wish we knew how well it was going to turn out earlier. We wouldn’t be in this whole mess.”
I laugh. “Well, I hadn’t even planned on renovating it back when you guys booked your first venue.”
Jamie nods. "True." He walks over and runs his hand along the island. “Butcher block. Nice touch."
“All Charleigh. She went with it after deciding granite just didn’t fit.”
He snorts, and I know immediately what he’s thinking. Charleigh and me. The look on his face is the same one Deanna wore when Charleigh finally kissed me in front of her. I told you so.
He doesn’t bring it up. Instead, we talk about the wedding and go over the timeline for the finishing touches on the house. Eventually, I take him to my favorite part of the house: the deck.
The furniture is all in place and we take a seat on the Adirondack chairs circling the fire pit.
“I could get used to this,” Jamie says.
I laugh, thinking about Charleigh. And no sooner than she popped into my mind, she appears with Marissa, who motions for Jamie to come with her.
Charleigh sits down next to me. “I think they’re going to do it.”
“Did Marissa like it?”
Charleigh rolls her head toward me. “Loved it.”
After a few brief moments of silence, she says, "I just hope everything is done on time."
“It will be. It’s not like there’s much left to do.”
I reach out and place my hand on Charleigh’s. She’s in her head, thinking about work. I’m a few seconds away from kissing her again to rip her out of her head, but before I have the chance, her phone rings.
She glances at it and says she has to take it, standing up and heading toward the other end of the deck. It seems like a fairly intense conversation from this vantage point, but it's hard to tell what's being said, so instead, I focus on the view of the forest.
Marissa and Jamie join me a few minutes later.
“Looks like it’s settled,” Jamie says, clapping my thigh as he sits down. “We’re doing it.”
“Yeah? That’s great. Charleigh will be thrilled.”
“I’m so glad we found a place,” Marissa says. “I can’t imagine waiting an extra month or two to be married to you,” she says, nuzzling into Jamie’s neck.
I sigh, turning my attention back to Charleigh. She’s off the phone and heading back to us. Marissa tells her the news, and just as I expected, she’s thrilled.
Once Marissa and Jamie leave, Charleigh turns to me and says, "I have good news."
“Yeah?”
“My landlord is offering me a new apartment to move into.”
Is that supposed to be good news?
“Or you could move in with me once the reno’s done.”
Her eyes bug out. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m not letting you go, Charleigh.”
She lunges on top of me, and we both crash onto the floor.
“On second thought,” I say through labored breaths, “maybe we could use a little space.”
“Never,” Charleigh whispers into my ear.
33
Charleigh
I’m at least fifty percent sure that I’m in the Star Trek universe because everything has moved at warp speed over this past week. All last minute issues with the renovation have been dealt with as quickly as they popped up, and after months of working tirelessly on this project, I’m finally able to take a few steps back and breathe. For a few minutes, at least, because the blue tape walk-through is in an hour, and I’m quickly becoming a nervous wreck.
This will be Christiana’s first time seeing the house in person and not through my carefully curated progress pictures. I spent the night and then most of the early hours of the morning making sure that the house would be spotless for her.
Guy: Seriously. The house looks amazing. You have nothing to worry about.
Charleigh: Could you put the cleaners and paper towels under the sink? I forgot to do that.
Guy: Already done.
Guy: Just BREATHE.
I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and take in a deep breath. Okay. This isn’t so bad. I lean back again, close my eyes, and try my best to relax. Apparently, I do a decent job at it because Andrea’s able to sneak up on me.
“Sleeping on the job?” Andrea asks.
Her voice nearly jolts me out of my seat, but I quickly recover. “And even so I still get more work done than you.”
I’m done playing nice with Andrea. I’ve tried ignoring her. I’ve tried befriending her. I’ve tried killing her with kindness. Barring actually killing her, I have no idea how else to approach her.
“Funny.” A few seconds later, she adds, “Not.”
Yikes. I forget what decade I’m in for a moment. Are “not” jokes back?
“What do you want, Andrea?”
She never comes over to my desk unless there's something she wants to rub in my face, so the quicker she's done, the quicker I can move on to more important things like figuring out whether I should have Guy light the sugar cookie candle or the pine tree candle. Mood is everything for these walk-throughs, and I'm not about to skimp on the ambiance.
“Take a look inside Christiana’s office.”
Andrea shifts to the side as I lean over and glance toward Christiana’s office. I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to be looking for. It all looks the same. There’s someone I’ve never seen before sitting in front of Christiana’s desk, but that’s not unusual. There’s always an unending stream of new clients coming and going from her office.
My chair creaks as I lean back. “I don’t get it.”
Usually, Andrea would have a self-satisfied grin on her face because she has information that I don’t have. Instead, there’s an expression I’ve seen on her face before: concern.
“She’s interviewing for Lana’s position.”
I’m hoping I misheard Andrea, but the slow nod after I don’t reply shoots that possibility down.
“I thought she was going internal.”
Andrea shrugs. “I thought so too until I overheard part of the conversation Christiana had with her on the way to her office. She flew in from California.”
Welp. This sucks. And here I thought Christiana would’ve at least waited until after the renovation to decide on whether she needed to look for an external candidate for Lana’s job.
Andrea leaves me alone to stew. It’s hard not to be annoyed. Even though these last few months have been draining and challenging, it was satisfying to have so much control over a project. And the thought that after it’s all done I’ll be returning to coffee duty is more than a little demoralizing.
I grab my phone and head to the parking lot. I need to call Guy. If there’s anyone who can talk me down from this, it’s him. After hopping into my car and shutting the door, I call Guy. It rings a few times before he answers.
“Hi there.”
I'm trying my damnedest not to smile because I want to be angry right now, but after hearing Guy's voice, it's impossible to stop.
/> “Christiana’s going with an external candidate for Lana’s job.”
“Shit.” Guy sighs. “Did Christiana tell you? Was it announced?”
“Not exactly.”
There’s a small pause. “How do you know then?”
I tell him about Andrea and the woman interviewing for the job.
“And you trust Andrea? She could be trying to throw you off your game.”
“It’s possible.” I hadn’t thought of it, actually.
"She's more than likely trying to get in your head and make you second-guess yourself and botch the walk-through with Christiana so she could look better."
I wouldn’t put it past Andrea to pull something like this, but I still can’t shake the feeling that there’s at least some truth to what Andrea’s saying.
“Anyway, nothing’s been announced. And remember that you’ve got a portfolio now. You can find a job at any other design firm in this city.”
“It’s one house, though.”
“Harper Lee only published one book.”
I snort. “We’re hardly comparable.”
“All I’m saying is that quality matters, and what you did with my house is quality work. It’s exceptional and people will see that. Christiana will see that. Believe in yourself, Charleigh. You’re more amazing than you know.”
And with that, my faltering grin explodes into a wide smile, bubbling sensation in my throat and all. Guy knows exactly what to say to make me feel better.
“Thanks for that,” I say.
“I mean it. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
"Okay." I almost hang up when the thought hits me. "Sugar cookie."
“What?”
“There’s a sugar cookie candle in the cabinet next to the sink. Switch out the pine tree candle for the sugar cookie candle.”
“You’ve got it.”
By the time I make it back to my desk, I’m already feeling better. I have no control over this process, so I’ll let my design speak for itself. It will be up to Christiana whether it will be enough for the promotion. And if it’s not, maybe Guy’s right. Maybe I can look at other design firms because I know I’ll be miserable going back to my old job now that I got a taste of what it’s like to be a full-time designer.
