“Just pick out a tan one too.”
“Tan won’t look as good.” I nearly growl through my teeth.
He rakes his finger through his hair. “Just grab one, and let’s move on.”
Unbelievable. Why did he even come if he’s going to question my every decision? Or maybe that’s why he said he was coming, because he didn’t trust I would make the right choice. He wanted to choose. I thought I was the designer, but he’s not letting me make the decisions.
“This is what you hired me for, Clayton.” I square my shoulders.
“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with giving the customer options. Rylee, I’ve been doing all of this without help, so it’s hard for me to just trust your judgement, especially when I see it’s a bold risk.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Then you pick out the option you want. I already have my tiles.”
His eyes narrow before walking away, leaving me with the cart. After a few minutes, he comes back with a plain, small, square beige tile. It would be pretty, but since the flooring and walls are basic, it would make the bathroom not have a statement piece to draw your eyes to.
He lays the tile in the cart, grabbing the handle to get ready to push again. “What now?” He sounds like a guy who’s being dragged through the mall.
“Now, I have to nail down the flooring for the rest of the house. They told me they want wooden luxury vinyl.” I spin around and hobble away as angrily as I can toward that section of the store. I’m not wanting to dance through the store like I was because I’m frustrated, hungry, and want to leave. But I refuse to do this another day.
He sighs as his boots scuff the ground with each step, pushing the cart behind me.
I walk up and down the aisles with all the flooring options. This is the same store where I purchased my flooring, so I’m familiar with what they have. The clients want something different than what I chose for my house. I take a picture of three options and quietly scrutinize each. The large samples are above my head, and I like to be able to look at the details up close. Other than opening a box of each one, this is my best option.
Clayton walks closer, looking over my shoulder as I flip through the pictures. “Those are the options?”
I stiffen. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope.”
The client wants a light beige flooring with obvious wood grain throughout. I delete one of the pictures.
“Why didn’t that one work?” He steps a little closer, and I can feel the heat of his body radiating off him even though he’s not touching me. I straighten my spine. No matter how familiar he is, I can’t let my guard down. Everything about him is comforting, but I can’t go there.
“There wasn’t enough character in the wood like the wood grain and knots.”
I flip back and forth between the last two options, zooming in on each picture before walking toward the flooring that I decide on. It has character, the right color, and it’s also more affordable than the other. I grab a box of the planks,placing it in the cart. I’ll be able to lay it out for the client to look at in person so they can make a decision.
“That's it?”
I nod as I massage my knee through my jeans.
“Okay, let’s get some lunch. I’ll purchase this stuff while you go sit on the bench by the front door.”
I go to shake my head, but he gives me a deadpan look before walking toward the checkout counter. I know he’s right that I should sit down, but I don’t want to do anything to make him feel better about himself for not trusting my judgement for the tiles. The green is the perfect option, but I guess I’ll have to prove it to him. I don’t have a doubt the customers will choose it, and I can’t wait to hear him say I was right.
24
CLAYTON:NOW
The client’seyes scan over the samples under the mood boards Rylee has blown up on the posters. My hands instinctively contract in and out of fists. We need this account. The company isn’t going under, but it’s not thriving either. We need to turn a corner soon.
My eyes flick to Rylee, and I catch her staring at my hands before turning toward the contemplating client. My fists freeze, and I make my fingers relax. I don’t need to distract Rylee or make her think I don’t have complete faith in what she’s done. Her work went above and beyond, and even though I had my doubts, she blew me out of the water. Every single one of her decisions had the client in mind. She didn’t let her own tastes cloud her judgement, and I know from experience that’s hard to do. My anxiety has nothing to do with her and everything to do with my own fears.
The client walks and stands in front of the tile for the bathroom. She has very short blonde hair with a little grey peeking through her temples. Her plaid button up is loosely tucked into her jeans. There are creases in the corners of her eyes and a small smile across her lips when she looks at the green one Ryleepicked out. When she looks at the tan, her eyebrows draw together, and I know I was wrong for not having complete faith in Rylee at the store. Again, my own stupidity.
“You picked out this tan tile as an option?” the client looks over her shoulder toward Rylee.
Rylee opens her mouth, but I interrupt before she can say anything. “I’m sorry. That’s for another project. I accidentally laid it out for this presentation.” I walk closer and remove the tile from the table. From the corner of my eye, I notice the surprise on Rylee’s face before she schools it back into neutral.
