“Of course I had to be here. I wanted to be.” My answer is immediate. Where the fuck else would I be, if not right here, right next to her? I planned the trip so Leo and I would have plenty of time to visit my parents, who not only understood I wanted to be back in Balsam Bay for today, but encouraged it.
“Do you think we could meet tomorrow? Talk through some of this while it’s still fresh in our minds? I gotta be at your place to check on the windows for your guesthouse, so maybe after that?” She lifts a shoulder, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability she’s given me. And she asked to meet at my house, not here or some other public, strictly professional place.
“Uh, yeah, of course. I—I’ll be there.” Pretty sure the insides of my cheeks are bleeding from how hard I’m biting them, so I don’t start smiling like a fool right now.
“K. See you tomorrow, then.”
The second she walks out the door, I throw my fist in the air. I feel like I won a fucking Olympic gold medal. In what? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. This feels like a damn win.
CHAPTER 26
THIS IS CRAZY. THIS IS SO STUPID.
BILLIE
When I get to Darcy’s, I’m still wound tight from yesterday’s meeting, but I manage to get myself into work mode once my meds and the caffeine kick in.
I’m on autopilot, going over the windows and doors with installers and listing a few materials I need to get here in the next few days. It’s the end of the day, so when we finish up, everyone takes off. Except me.
I head to my truck to drop off a few tools and change from work boots to flip flops, rolling up my jeans a little.
As I’m walking to the back deck, Darcy comes out with two glasses of ice water, setting them on the table. The sun is still high, but we’re in the shade, overlooking the water. It’s beautiful here. Peaceful and quiet. A total contrast to how I’ve been feeling inside.
“The window frames on the guesthouse look good. Seals are tight. We’ll be ready for interior work next week.” I give him my work smile as we both sit down. He greeted everyone when we got here, but didn’t hover after offering us all water or coffee.
Darcy is a great client. Neve has been saying as much since they started working together over a year ago. She was the one to bring me onto this project as his interior designer, and as the one managing the project for him here since he lives in Toronto. Neve and I have always agreed, when it comes to communicating with clients, it’s best to be consistent and concise. That’s much easier when there are fewer people participating in the back-and-forth communications, so as the project manager, she’s always been the one to keep Darcy in the loop. But now he’s here, and it’s equal parts wonderful and awful.
“That’s great. Thanks for working so hard to make this happen before the end of summer.” He takes his sunglasses off, propping them on his head where his wavy hair molds perfectly around the frame.
“Of course.” I pry my eyes away from his handsome face and change the topic to the marina project. “So, we need documentation that we can meet the environmental timeline. How can we prove six weeks is standard?”
“I reached out to the firm for a letter. Something showing examples of similar timelines.” He sits back in his chair, seeming entirely relaxed. Makes sense, since it’s his house and all. It’s nice to see him less tense than the last couple of times we’ve been around one another. “Maybe I can get testimonials from some other towns who have done this kind of revitalization, too. I think we have the data we need. I just need to present it better.”
“Not better,” I reply automatically. “Differently. In a way that leaves no room for my dad or anyone else to poke holes in your research. It’s all there.” My cheeks heat the longer I talk. I’m holding myself back from praising him too much because that could be misconstrued, but he deserves it. “How do we show that storage units are a dead-end investment for the town? They don’t generate foot traffic and don’t support other businesses.”
“Facts,” Darcy points at me. “I’ll run some numbers on the economic multiplier effect. Every tourist dollar spent has a ripple effect on the town, whereas every dollar spent at a storage unit goes straight into the pocket of whoever owns it.”
“Yes. We need to show them what a parking lot enables, not just what itis.” This feels good.
“And show projected revenue increase for existing shops to get them on board.” Darcy takes a few notes on his phone as we talk, and I’m so thankful for his foresight.
“Right. It’ll create an experience. More than a place to just put cars.” I want to add a snarky comment about the storage unit, but I leave it out. I don’t need to keep putting that shitty idea down to make ours sound better. Itisbetter.
“And connection. Literal, since it’ll connect the marina to downtown, but also between the people and the local artisans and food producers.” He sticks out his tongue as he types, focusing on getting our ideas down.
When he stops and looks up at me, I don’t have time to straighten my head, which has fallen to the side, or to wipe the smile taking over my face. I’ve been caught.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, not letting me get away with it.
“Nothing, just… thanks. For not giving up on this.”
“I’m not giving up on anything.” His statement is loaded, and the little voice in my head telling me it’s about more than the project needs to shut up, so I straighten, pushing my chair back.
“I should get going. Lots to do.”
Darcy stands, walking around to the front of the house with me. Neither of us says anything until we’re on the driveway.
“See you at the next meeting, then?” My voice comes out too loud, too squeaky, too unnatural.