The Design(35)

I shrugged, the pain already lessening to a dull ache. “I guess I probably just need one of those cookies I saw on the table on the way in.”

He laughed and shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll show you the drafts for the design while you rest up, slugger.”

I followed him through the house and out toward the front porch where a small card table was set up as a makeshift desk. Grayson walked me through the design of the house and even listened to a few of my comments and critiques. He lit up when he was talking about the house and about the family that would live in it once it was complete. As he spoke, I studied his features one at a time: his lips as they curved up into a smile, the creases beside his eyes that formed as he pointed to his favorite elements of the design.

As I stood on that porch with him, I knew we were living in some kind of alternate universe. Nothing about the evening felt real, from the way we were dressed to the ease with which we were talking together, laughing and flipping through blueprints. Grayson’s guard was down for once and I couldn't help but yearn for just a few more moments, to reach out and pause the evening right there, just like that, forever.

…



The next morning I found myself at my desk twenty minutes early. I could hardly sleep thinking of my night with Grayson, how his hand had felt on my bare skin. I’d thrown off my blanket at 6:30 am, gone for a run (which ended up being a slow jog to the coffee and bagel stand at the end of my corner), showered, and gotten ready for work.

I was anxious to see him, to prove to myself that the night wasn’t a fantasy, but rather a turning point in our relationship. Finally at 8:00 am, the elevator doors slid open and Grayson stepped out wearing a crisp navy suit. Each step he took in his shiny brown shoes resonated around the room. I smiled wide, excitement brimming over as I tried to think of what I would say to him first. I’d thought about the house design as I was getting ready that morning and I couldn’t wait to tell him a few of my ideas.

I leaned back in my chair as he approached and smiled from ear to ear… but as he got closer, I realized he wasn’t slowing down. He wasn’t even going to glance down at me. He walked briskly by my desk and spoke directly to Beatrice.

“Have Nicole join me for lunch today and hold all my calls until the afternoon.”

I swiveled around to watch him step into his office and slam the door closed behind him. I stared at the wood, trying to comprehend how I could have been so off. My favorite pants and the extra coat of mascara I’d applied that morning were an absolute waste. Had I imagined the night before? Where was the guy that had joked about chopping my arm off?

When Nicole strolled in at lunch time looking like the cat that ate the canary, I ripped my phone out of my purse and shot a text to Brooklyn.



Cammie: Do you have anyone you can set me up with?

Brooklyn: Sure, let me get my rolodex out. Any preference on age or occupation?

Cammie: I'd prefer them to have an age and occupation.

Brooklyn: Alright, that rules out Larry, the two-toothed hobo on the Q train.

Cammie: Your jokes are not appreciated right now.

Brooklyn: Sheesh, alright, let’s get you laiddddddddd.

Cammie: Also, no prostitutes.

Brooklyn: Dont worry, we already ruled out Larry.

Cammie: ghdkuygl.

Brooklyn: I’m not even sure there are any guys in LA that meet your unreasonable standards.

Cammie: Grayson brought Nicole in for a lunch booty call today.

Brooklyn: That’s it. I’m unfriending him on Facebook.

Cammie: Wait, what does his relationship status say on there?



I hated that I wanted to know, but I did.



Brooklyn: Single.

Cammie: Good. Now find a non-homeless person to set me up with.

Brooklyn: On it.





Chapter Twelve





My annoyance with Grayson kept growing as the next few days passed and he continued to ignore my presence. I’d work up some courage, make up my mind to storm into his office and tell him off, and then I’d remember that I was a normal person that didn’t do things like that to her boss.

On Monday, I strolled into the conference room for a mandatory department meeting and scanned for a seat. The only open chair was beside Grayson, at the very front of the room. I was shocked to see that Hannah hadn’t already claimed it, but then I remembered she and Alan had left a few minutes earlier so that she could shadow him at a job site.

Whatever, I could sit by him. I’m an adult.

I slid into the open chair and dropped my legal pad onto the table with an audible plop. We didn’t even acknowledge each other, and then the meeting began a few minutes later. I scribbled down notes on my legal pad, trying to ignore every time Grayson shifted in his seat or the fact that he was wearing that damned spiced aftershave, as per usual. I wanted to hate that scent, but I couldn’t.