The Design (11 page)

That kiss was everything.

After a moment, I let go of the counter, wanting to wrap my arms around Grayson again and keep him close. But when I glanced up, he was already halfway out of the kitchen, already on his way to being gone. His dress shoes smacked the floor with clear intent. When he passed the threshold, he didn’t look back. He slammed his hand against the doorframe and left me sitting there all alone.

I’d begged him to kiss me, just once.             

At that moment, I learned to be careful what I wished for.

Chapter Thirteen

Amount
saved for Paris
: $723 (minus the $12.50 I spent at Walgreens for the supplies to make a voodoo doll. Now I just needed to find a DIY guide online.)

Items I have
: Keds for walking around the museums and parks.

Items I need
: red lipstick and a blue striped top… to fit in with Parisian women.

French phrases that I know
:
Grayson Cole est une salle de bain géante…which roughly translates to “Grayson Cole is a giant bathroom.” (I realize that this isn’t a very good insult, but I thought I’d multitask and start memorizing words that will actually help me in Paris.)

I arrived to work early Wednesday morning after having tossed and turned for eight sleepless hours. Grayson had given me permission to leave work the night before (I mean, he went so far as to pour out my coffee), but I hated having Alan’s work hanging over my head. I cared about this job. I wanted to prove myself to Alan so that he’d stop giving me crappy assignments. I was a good designer and I just needed to show him that.

I could tell that Grayson was already in his office by the time I set my things down on top of my desk. A thin shaft of light spilled out from beneath his door and I could barely make out the faint sound of his typing. I wanted him to come out and face me, but he never did.

I knew he’d felt something during the kiss. Why else would he have been so angry afterward? No one storms out after a mediocre kiss, I knew that much.

Eventually, I forced myself to focus on the pile of work I’d left behind the night before. A full cup of coffee and freshly sharpened drafting pencils were almost enough to convince me to concentrate on my sketches instead of replaying the previous night in excruciating detail.
Almost
.

I stirred from my work sometime later that morning when I heard Beatrice mention my name on the phone.

“Sure, I’ll connect you with Cammie. Let me just put you on hold for a moment,” Beatrice said.

I turned toward her desk with an inquisitive brow.
Why was someone calling me on the work line?
Brooklyn was the only person who tried to contact me during work hours and she always used my cell phone.

Beatrice connected the call and I spoke hesitantly, “Hello?”

“Cammie! This is Emma. Emma Cole.” 

It took me a second to get up to speed.
Why in the world was Grayson’s mother calling me?

“Oh, of course. Hi Mrs. Cole. How are you?”

The question was more of an automatic response than anything. My brain wasn’t awake enough to create an actual conversation with Grayson’s mom.

“Oh, I’m good, honey. I’m good. Listen, I’m glad I caught you before the day really gets going. Are you too busy to chat for a moment?”

Even if I had ten deadlines to meet, I could spare a few minutes for the mother of my dream man.

“Sure, I can talk,” I answered.

“Oh good. Y’know I was calling to see if you’ve been able to keep an eye out for Grayson like I asked?”

I nearly choked on my own tongue.

“Um, yeah, well, a little bit. He sort of keeps to himself,” I said, skipping over the rather obvious encounter from the kitchen the night before.

“Of course, of course. I guessed as much. Anywho, are you enjoying your work? Last time I spoke to you, you were a bit overwhelmed with everything.”

I glanced up to check my surroundings. Mark had arrived a few minutes earlier, quiet as a mouse, but Peter and Alan’s desks were both empty still. I could speak freely if I wanted to.

Was I enjoying my work?

“Y’know, I’m not really sure yet.”

“Uh oh.” she answered. “Tell me about it. Is my son being too hard on you?”             

“No. No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just a lot more work than I thought it would be,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m sure Grayson knows what he’s doing. I think these first few weeks will be hard until you get adjusted to the work flow, don’t you think?”

I was about to reply when the elevator doors dinged and swung open. I glanced back to check if it was Alan arriving for the day and did a double take when I caught sight of Nicole strolling into the office with her pale blonde hair flowing out around her.
What the hell was she doing here? And before 9:00 am no less? Had Grayson bumped their booty call up to brunch now?
             

“Cammie? Are you there?” Emma asked.

I peeled my gaze away from Nicole and turned back to my desk. “Oh, yes. Sorry about that Mrs. Cole. I actually have to be going. I, uh, have to finish up a few things before my manager arrives.”

“Oh, that’s alright, dear. Thanks for taking the time to chat with me. Tell your sister hello for me when you get the chance, it’s been too long since I last saw her!”

I glanced over my shoulder as the scent of Nicole’s floral perfume hit me. It stretched across the office, announcing her presence even more than the clap of her high heels on the concrete. Over the last few weeks, every single thing about her had come to annoy me, but most of all it was that floral scent that did me in.  I wanted to drown her in it.

“Oh, I will. Bye, Mrs. Cole.”

The second the call ended, I watched Nicole step into Grayson’s office, securely closing the door behind her. She was probably unbuttoning her blouse at that very moment.
Blech
. Just the idea of them together made me want to vomit.

I had a brief moment where an adult version of Cammie warned me to keep my distance and get back to work. Fortunately, reckless Cammie won out. I couldn’t sit idle while he was in there with Nicole. He’d kissed me the night before,
really
kissed me. He’d gripped my neck with both hands like he’d wanted to devour me whole and now he was in there with her?

No. Not happening
. I pushed my chair back from my desk and bee lined for his office. After one sharp knock on his door, I opened it before either one of them could decline my entry. Grayson was perched behind his desk, his black suit jacket and tie still perfectly in place. He was leaning forward on his hands, with furrowed brows and a sharp frown. When he saw the door slide open, he swept his gaze from Nicole up to me and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly unhappy to see me barging into his office.

Nicole sat in a chair on the other side of his desk with her hands crossed on top of her lap. The proper pose combined with her white shift dress and strand of pearls screamed, “Junior-League-trust-fund-baby”, but when she turned to me, there were mascara stains dotting her cheeks and the whole pristine image was suddenly shattered.

She’d been in there all of thirty seconds and he already made her cry?
The asshole.

Wait. Why do I care about Nicole?

I glanced back to Grayson with narrowed eyes, prepared to call him out, but he was practically snarling at me by that point.

“Why the hell do you insist on barging into my office, Cammie?” he asked.

My mouth fell open and then I rushed to close it, only to let it fall open again a moment later. I looked like a confused guppy.

“Your mom called me this morning,” I finally spoke, hoping the mention of his mom would cool his jets. “She was checking up on you.”

Nicole pointed her finger out at me. “What? Why is your mom calling one of your
employees
?” She spat the word out as if she had just accidentally bitten into a non-organic, GMO Honeycrisp.

Grayson shrugged, glancing between the two of us. “She likes Cammie, she’s a family friend.

“Cammie?” Nicole bristled. 

Grayson stared up at me expectantly. “Is that really the only reason you have for interrupting?” he asked incredulously.

I straightened my shoulders and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I just thought you should know that your mom is asking about you. Maybe give her a call every now and then, Grayson.”

I purposely used his first name.

“Is this why you’re breaking up with me? So you can fuck your jailbait employee?” Nicole blurted out.

Excuse me, we’re having a conversation here… wait, did she say they were breaking up?
I was back to looking like a confused guppy as she pushed herself onto her feet and leaned over Grayson’s desk. I should have excused myself at that point, but I couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.

“You’ll never find a woman as good as me. You’re about to lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Wow
. She was really confident in her ability to quote movie breakup lines.

“Nicole. Calm down,” Grayson instructed with annoyance.

She reared back as if he’d slapped her. Her hands flew up in the air and I could tell she was about ten seconds from losing it.
Should I call security?
Nah. Let Grayson defuse the Botoxed bombshell.

“Calm down! Calm down?” she yelled. “You string me along for a year and then just break up with me in your fucking office, Grayson? I never met your parents. I never stayed the night at your place. You said you weren’t ready for commitment?! Bullshit.” Her hands were flying everywhere at this point. “I’m done.”

She turned and rushed past me, making sure to subtly swipe me with her purse on the way out. I stared out after her, mostly to ensure that she wasn’t going to come back and attack me from behind.

When she was at the elevator bank, furiously typing away on her phone, I finally turned back to Grayson.

For two seconds, we stared at one another, letting the last few minutes settle. Then, finally, I cracked and let the edge of my mouth hitch into a smile. He followed suit, trying to conceal his grin.

“Nice girl. Better watch out though, she's going to start a hate club with that secretary you fired.”

Grayson grunted. “She was exaggerating.”

I narrowed my eyes, thinking back to my experience with Grayson. “You probably did string her along.”

He glanced up and studied me for a moment before nodding. “Probably.”

…

Around lunchtime, Alan left for a job site with Hannah, leaving Peter and I with thirty minutes of freedom. We decided we deserved some good takeout since most of our lunches consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches supplemented by vending machine granola bars.

“Oohh! What about Thai? I haven’t had Thai food in forever,” I said, scrolling through Yelp reviews for a restaurant down the street.

“Nah. Not a fan. What about Italian?” Peter asked.

The idea of eating a giant plate of fettuccini alfredo was almost too tempting to pass up.

“Yum. I can always eat—”

“Peter I need to speak with you for a few minutes. Are you busy?” 

We both turned in unison to see Grayson hovering behind my desk with his arms crossed. Since I’d been hired, he’d never once talked to Peter one-on-one, and the visible shock on Peter’s face emphasized that point further.

“Oh, um, sure. I was just going to get lunch with Cammie,” he said, offering me a sympathetic frown.

“That’s fine. I’ll have Beatrice order us something. Cammie can run down and grab herself lunch.”

Oh thanks, asshat.

Grayson completely ignored me even as I stared daggers at him, so I scooted my chair back so that he had to jump out of the way before I slammed into his legs. It wasn’t a very classy move, but at least he finally met my eye. I almost wavered—those blue eyes were a lot to take in when they were aimed right at me—but I held strong.

“Thanks for stealing my lunch date,” I said, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.

“You’ll manage,” he said with a cheeky smile. “Besides, it’s only fair. You interrupted mine earlier.”

…

As soon as I sat down at my desk after lunch, Alan began to ramble. “Let’s go over the design for the competition. We weren’t able to do our usual Wednesday morning meeting, so we’ll do it now.”

I perked up. Over the last few days, I’d become obsessed with the park design competition. I’d brainstormed a few ideas that I knew Alan would agree with. They would add a lot to the project without increasing the budget. As Alan pulled out the drafting paper we’d used the week before, I jumped into my proposals.

“Alan, I know you weren’t in love with some of my ideas last week, but I think I’ve figured out how we could incorporate a few things without blowing the budget.”

I reached for my notebook, where I’d been scribbling down my ideas on the last few pages. The ones I thought Alan should hear were highlighted and circled so that they’d be easy to find.

“I think the changing rooms near the splash pad could fit into budget if we combine them with one of the park’s bathrooms. The building material could be sourced from the recycling facility downtown so that the cost would be nominal. Not to mention, using recycled materials would look really good for the city.”