Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“You’ve got this, babe,” Danny says as he rounds the desk to read over my shoulder.
“I sent her some new drawings for the master bedroom. I thought I’d start with an easy room, just to get a feel for what she wants. I studied for hours, looking through photos of her on red carpets and stuff to get a feel for her style.”
“She’s very black and white,” Danny murmurs as we scan the email. “And she seems to like your design.”
All that’s written is a very simple: That’s better.
“She’s a woman of few words,” I mutter in annoyance. “It’s better, but not great. So, what doesn’t she like? What does she want me to change or add?”
“Honey, she’s a gazillionaire. She doesn’t have time for that. That’s what she has you for.”
“Yeah, well, we did it that way once, and she hated every single thing.”
He shrugs, and I sigh in frustration.
“I’m not too proud to admit that this has me scared. If she hates it again, the firm will fire me. Camille already pulled me into her office and gave me a tongue-lashing for fucking up so royally.”
“She’s a bitch,” Danny whispers. “She’s all about the bottom line and doesn’t give a shit about the people who work here.”
“Still, it’s a well-respected company, and I like working here. I don’t have to deal with Camille often. But she made it clear that I’ve already screwed up and I’d better fix it—or I’m out.”
“Would that be a bad thing?” he asks, surprising me.
“Would losing my job be a bad thing? Oh, I don’t know, let me think. Yes. Yes, it would. I need to work, Danny. And I like it.”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t expect you to be a kept woman. That’s not your style. But if you left this firm, you could always start one of your own.”
“I don’t have enough years under my belt. And if I leave with a shitty recommendation from both Camille and Miranda Priestly, aka Florence, I’m finished.”
“Okay, I’m the only one who gets to be a drama queen around here,” Danny says and rolls his eyes. “You’re not finished, darling. You have a lot of amazing things in your portfolio and plenty of clients who would give you a glowing recommendation. So one design didn’t hit the mark. It’s not the end of the world.”
I stare at him again. “Did I mention this was a million-dollar project?”
His confidence doesn’t waver. “All I’m saying is, you’ve got this. No matter how it shakes out, you’ve got it covered because you’re a fucking badass who knows her job. I saw that design. It was brilliant. Keep those photos for your resume because it definitely isn’t your fault that Florence doesn’t have any taste.”
“I really love you. You know that, right?”
He grins. “You love me so much that you married me.”
Chapter 14
Gray
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” I demand into the phone and pace my condo.
“Her car is here,” Dad says, frustration thick in his voice. “I’ve been through the house twice, and I can’t find her. I just got home from work, and she had some ladies over for tea this afternoon.”
“She has a broken hip,” I remind him. “She can’t have gotten far.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Dad counters, his voice rising, but then he pauses. “Jeannie? Oh, honey, where were you?”
“Oh, I was just out looking at my garden, but the flowers have died.”
“I found her,” he says, relief in his words. “She’s okay. She looks tired. I’ll call you later.”
Dad hangs up, and I stare out my window in frustration.
Mom’s getting to the point that leaving her alone isn’t smart. She has a nurse who looks in on her throughout the day, and Maya tries to be there as much as possible, but Spokane is still at least a thirty-minute drive away—in good traffic.
They arranged the tea party this afternoon so she wouldn’t be alone for long between the nurse’s visit and Dad getting home.
Without giving it too much thought, I dial Maya’s number.
“Wassup?” she asks when she answers.
“When was the last time you were with Mom?”
“Why? Has something happened?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I was there on Sunday,” she says. “What happened?”
“Dad got home from work today and couldn’t find her.”
“What?”
“He called me in a panic. She ended up walking in from outside, where she said she was spending time in the garden.”
“How? She’s injured, for God’s sake?”
“That was my thought. She’s not getting better. Mentally, I mean.”
“I know. She’s not worse, either—which is good. But she can’t just wander outside with a broken hip. And she can’t get approved for a twenty-four-seven nurse. So, I’ve decided I’m going to quit my job and go live at home for a while.”
“Maya—”
“No, it makes sense. Sid’s got her career happening in Nashville, and you have a law firm to run. It makes the most sense for me to do this. I’m not a nurse, but I’m at least a familiar face that can be there with her to make sure she takes it easy and isn’t in danger. If she were to fall again, it could be catastrophic.”