I have to wonder if this shift in her has anything to do with our date yesterday, if it helped ease her stress. I had planned on talking to her about our breakup, explaining why I had to do what I did, but she said our date made her feel the most peaceful she’d felt in a long time, and so I didn’t. I kept quiet, let her enjoy the scenery and the afternoon of drawing. I didn’t want to ruin it for her by dredging up the past. The last thing she needs right now is even more confusion or heavy emotions weighing her down.
And I was happy to give her what she needed—that’s what the date was intended to do. Despite all the ways Wren has changed over the years, I still I know her at her core, what she needs to feel grounded. Nature, fresh air, and a sketchbook.
I glance over at her from where I’m applying grout between the new tiles. Her expression is focused as she takes a small brush and carefully places paint on the canvas. Her brow is furrowed, but it’s not a harsh line, just concentrated. Sadness throbs in my chest, thinking about how much life has come between her and I—how much life has come between her andherself. The circumstances that caused her to stray so far from who she used to be.
Everyone changes from their teen years—that’s normal, healthy. I certainly have, and I’m grateful for it. The changes I’ve undergone have been for the better. I let go of old beliefs that weren’t serving me. I let go of believing I wasn’t ever going to make something of myself, that I was a bad influence. I created a life I’m content with, at peacewith.
Wren, though … I worry the changes she’s made haven’t been for herself. They haven’t been made from the desire to grow, but out of a need for survival.
I turn back to the job at hand, focusing on spreading, wiping, spreading, wiping, until the whole area that had been singed by Wren’s pizza fire looks brand new again. I give it one more once-over with my sponge, making sure it’s all cleaned up before pushing in the new stove Wren had delivered.
I’m happy with the result, but disappointed it’s done. It gave me an excuse to come and spend time with her. It was something I could do for her, and a part of me has hoped it might help bring us closer. That maybe, this would mean we aren’t enemies anymore, at least in her mind.
I’m starting to think that she’s never been an enemy in mine.
I wander over to stand behind her, to look at what she’s been working on. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see as I near her, but it sure isn’t Ruby, depicted in perfect detail and clarity, surrounded by bursts of colour. A sunset makes the edges of her rusty fur glow, and the wildflowers around her almost sparkle. Like they did the other day.
“Wow. I can’t believe you did that. I mean, I can believe it.” I’m at a loss for words. “You’re so talented.”
Wren sets down her paintbrush in a jar of muddy-looking water.
“All it takes is the right inspiration.” She wipes her hands on her overalls and turns to look up at me with those bright, dazzling brown eyes. “Thank you for the date, by the way. I thought you were planning something horrible.” She smilesat me, a playful smile, and the corner of my mouth tugs upward to match.
The lightness between us now is confirmation that Wren needed that time yesterday. Time to be herself again, to reconnect with the things she loves the most. It also confirms my decision not to say anything about our breakup. As long as Wren doesn’t ask, I won’t offer it. Despite everything in me wanting to explain myself, trying to fix the rift between us, I won’t do it. Not right now. We’ll keep things status quo for now.
“Damn it,” I say, mirroring her cheeky grin. “Missed opportunity.”
No more confessions of love, either. I felt like such an asshole for kissing her like that in the gym. It was selfish of me. She doesn’t need to sort through our old baggage when she’s got enough of her own.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make it up on a second date.” She gets up, squeezes past me, and goes to inspect the job I finished. “This looks great, Hudson. Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.” She’s moved on from the previous conversation, but I’m still stuck on her mentioning a second date. My mind stalls, so I clear my throat as I refocus on what she’s just said.
“I did, though. I couldn’t let you take the heat from your dad. I know how he can be.” Knowing what I do about Ian Miller and his ‘Millers are never last’ motto, I get the feeling he’s a big reason why Wren hasn’t quit her job despite how toxic it is.
Wren offers me a solemn nod but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. She doesn’t need to.
“Do you want to stay for another beer?”
I do. I really do. But if I stay in Wren’s presence while she’s in that lacey bra any longer, I can’t guarantee I won’t do something stupid like kiss her, or tell her I’m hopelessly in love with her.
“No, thanks. I should go. Ruby’s been alone all day, and I have my presentation to work on,” I say as I start packing up my tools into my tool bag. Wren nods, and something like disappointment flashes over her expression. But maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“Yeah, right. I have to finalize my presentation, too.” Wren chews on her bottom lip, her posture tightening, evidence of how much this vote is stressing her out, the amount of pressure she’s putting on herself to win it.
“Bring everything you got, Miller,” I say, giving her a playful shove on the shoulder. I hope a light-hearted taunting will ease the tension, distract her from the stakes and refocus her attention on beating me. If I want to keep things status quo, this is it. Our competitions, the games we play with each other. This is the dynamic Wren is accustomed to in our relationship, and a fire ignites behind her eyes again.
“You’ll wish I hadn’t, Landry.”
CHAPTER 23
WREN
The vote is tomorrow.Yesterday was a nice reprieve, a welcome break from the project and everything riding on me getting the project lead role. But I woke up this morning with a keen awareness that I’m running out of time to finalize my presentation. As such, I’ve been up since the crack of dawn trying to make sure all the final renderings are complete and my presentation is in order.
I had to scrap almost the entire concept I initially came up with. I took Spencer and Ally’s suggestions to heart, and the result is less MoMA-inspired and more … laid back. It’s almost giving hippie vibes, and less avant-garde. I swapped out concrete in favour of cedar, made the place more homey and less cold. There’s a living wall in the lobby and windows to let in sunlight from every direction. It’s an arts centre I would want to spend my time in.
If I were staying here to see it fully built, I probably would. The painting studio I designed is every artist’s dream. It’s perfect for Heartwood. Needless to say, I’m confident it will winme the vote. But it’s not exactly a build that VanTek typically gets involved with. It’s not groundbreaking, it’s not ultra-modern so I don’t know if Rick will be as excited about it as I am.
I close my laptop, happy with the progress I’ve made on it today. I put the final finishing touches on the slides, and I’ve practiced my speech a dozen times or more. I’m ready. The only thing left to do is e-mail the final version to Rick and hope for the best.
