At Riverview, a trendy bar overlooking the Savannah River, Julia found herself actually enjoying the company of her colleagues. She’d forgotten how much she liked the creative energy of their team gatherings, the shop talk that evolved into more personal conversations as the evening progressed.
Quinn, the firm’s newest architect, sat next to her during their second round of drinks.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you about the warehouse project,” he said. “Is it true you found original heart pine beams under the drop ceiling?”
The project was gnarly. And his sincere excitement made her feel good about the slow progress. They started talking and she pulled up photos of the beams on her phone to show him the growth rings that indicated old-growth timber, likely harvested in the early 1800s.
“That’s incredible,” Quinn said, leaning closer to see the photos. “The craftsmanship from that era is just unmatched.” As he leaned into her phone, Julia caught a whiff of his cologne. Something fresh that reminded her of walking through a forest.
They talked for a while. Quinn showed her photos of a renovation project he’d worked on in Charleston, their heads bent together over his phone, when she heard Eliza’s voice:
“Look at you two—architectural nerds.”
Quinn blushed a little, and Julia realized how their position might appear to observers—heads close together, sharing photos.
“Julia’s showing me the original beams from the warehouse project,” Quinn said, his voice a little tighter than usual.
“And Quinn was just telling me about a hidden fireplace he discovered during a Charleston renovation,” Julia added.
Eliza bit her lower lip. “It’s cute watching you two geek out. Quinn, fair warning—Julia’s heart belongs to a mysterious antique dealer from Providence.”
Now it was Julia’s turn to blush. “He’s a friend in Providence with similar interests,” she clarified, seeing Quinn’s eyes looking away.
But Quinn recovered quickly. “Providence? I have a cousin who went to RISD. Great architectural city.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Julia said, grateful for his graceful pivot. “Dylan—my friend—has mentioned some of the historic restoration projects there.”
Her phone vibrated, and this time she glanced down to see multiple messages from Dylan:
Dylan: Right you were! Silence phones for rapid-fire bidding war. Glad I went. How was your day?
Julia looked at the message and was about to respond when Quinn asked her a question about sustainable insulation options, pulling her back into their conversation.
The evening continued, with Julia torn between being present with her colleagues while glancing at incoming messages from Dylan. By the time they all said goodnight outside the bar, she realized that Eliza had been right—she had needed this real-world social interaction.
Walking to her car, she finally responded to Dylan’s texts:
Julia: Sorry for the delayed response—was out with colleagues. Curious to learn more about your finds.
His response came as she was unlocking her apartment door:
Dylan: No apology needed.
Julia settled onto her sofa, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her. She had had a little too much to drink and was feeling drowsy.
Just before midnight, she sent:
Julia: I should get some sleep, but looking forward to photos of your finds at the auction.
Dylan: Have a good night.
Julia set her phone on the nightstand. The prospect of turning their connection into a reality was both thrilling and scary. What if the chemistry they shared through text didn’t translate to the physical world? What if the Dylan she had come to know through carefully composed messages was different from the real-life person she would meet in Boston?
Or worse—what if he was exactly as she imagined, but she somehow disappointed him?
Julia pushed these thoughts away as she drifted into sleep. Whatever happened in Boston, their connection had already given her something valuable—a reminder that somewhere out there existed people who shared her way of seeing the world, someone who valued what was withered and weathered as much as she did.
Chapter 5
