“Wow, that man has it bad.” Spencer’s brows arch, lips pursed in a half-suppressed smirk. “But we already all knew that.” Her face brightens as she realizes something. “Hey, if Ally and Mason are together, Grady and I are a thing, and Wren and Hudson manage to figure their shit out … that leaves Poppy and Jett. We could all be Landry sisters!”
Ally lights up at the idea, but Poppy’s horrified expression mirrors my own.
“Sorry, Spence, but not a chance,” she blurts.
“Ditto,” I say. “There is no universe where Hudson and I get back together.”
“And there is no universe where Jett settles down with anyone. Once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy. At least in my mind.”
“Ha!” Spencer and Ally bark a laugh at the same time.
“Yeah, that’s probably true,” I add. “And that ship has sailed where Hudson is concerned. He’s dating someone now, anyways.” There’s a pang of something in my chest as I hear the finality in my own words. It feels like sadness. Disappointment. Even though Hudson is seeing Emma, a smallpart of me hoped all the little moments I’ve shared with him might have meant something more.
“So, you want our help to take him down?” Spencer asks, and I nod, suddenly feeling a spark of excitement, energy sizzling under my skin at the thought of strategizing how I’m going to win. Hudson and I are nothing more than contenders for the same job. Rivals. Adversaries.
Poppy asked Ally and Spencer to help me with my design for the arts centre, to help me lock in my victory. If Hudson can get help from Emma, then I can get help from the girls.
Two can play at this game, Landry.
He’s been known to play by his own set of rules anyways, so why shouldn’t I? The public forum made it abundantly clear that I am out of my depth with this project. I’ve helped design modern, fancy high rises, but I’ve never done anything like this. And the suggestions the town had threw me for a loop. I realized how long it’s been since I’ve been back in Heartwood, how out of touch I’ve become.
When Poppy told me about the redesign Spencer did for Grady, how she transformed Jack’s, and how much everyone has raved about it, it felt like a miracle. Like I might have a chance with her help.
“I need to win this. If I don’t, then Brody will get the principal engineer position over me, and I’m sick of being passed over by men for jobs that I deserve,” I explain, and I shudder at the mere thought of going back into the office. Brody will gloat. I’ll be a failure. No one at work will look at me the same again.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Ally says. I go inside to where I left my sketchbook on the counter. I spent themorning sketching, filling up the blank pages at the back with random drawings. My lines are getting smoother, the pencil feeling natural in my hand like it once did. I didn’t draw anything groundbreaking, but for the first time since I came back to Heartwood, my mind was still, quiet.
When I pick it up, I remember the drawings of Hudson I left tucked inside. I still haven’t had to use them to take out my anger, so I haven’t doodled vampire teeth on him or anything yet. They look like regular drawings of someone I once loved. They’re my heart on paper. Carefully, I remove the loose ones and tuck them in a kitchen drawer where no one will find them.
The girls are waiting expectantly and gather around the sketchbook when I open it to the page with my design. They’re quiet as they examine it. Spencer cocks her head, assessing it from a different angle.
After an excruciating minute of silence, Poppy looks up at me with a bright smile on her face.
“Wren, it’s so fancy! It’s beautiful.”
Ally glances up then, too, also with a smile, but a forced one.
“It’s uh … it’s a great design. Structurally. Very architectural.”
Spencer is still examining it, and when she finally looks up, her face is screwed into a grimace.
“Sorry, Wren. This kind of sucks.” Okay, we’re going with harsh honesty. “I mean, it doesn’t suck for an arts centre in Vancouver or something, but for Heartwood … I don’t think anyone will go for it.”
Anxiety and dread lick up my spine, and I suck in a sharpbreath, the air not reaching the base of my lungs. My chest tightens and I snatch the book back, looking at my drawing again with this new perspective.
It’s all clean lines and angles, a lot of glass and concrete. It’s sculptural, but plain enough to showcase the art being created inside. I thought it was perfect. My boss did, too, the concept at least. Rick thought it was a great idea when I outlined my idea to him over the phone the other day.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, my eyes widening. I’m unable to hide my shock at their reaction. My voice shakes with the panic rising in my throat.
“People here are going to want something more down-to-earth. Something that feels cozy, eclectic. Something colourful and vibrant,” Spencer explains. Walls slide into place around me in response to the sharp jab of criticism needling my chest. This design isgood. Rick told me it was good. How would Spencer know anything about architectural design?
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Wren, but I have to agree with Spence on this one,” Ally says, driving the knife in further. “I don’t think it’s going to appeal to the town. And if you’re putting it up to a vote then …”
“I’m going to lose,” I finish for her, given she’s not willing to say it. I consider what they’ve said for a moment, looking back down at the design.
As much as I hate admitting I might be wrong, that my design missed the mark, I hate losing more.
“Fuck.” I sit down at the table, my shoulders slumping. I feel the same comforting hand on my shoulder that Ally offered Spencerearlier.
