My heart sinks because with each week that passes and Holden doesn’t promote me, I realize more and more that he doesn’t fully respect me. He would need to hire a recruiter to find someone qualified enough, and I know he hasn’t done that, and a little spark of hope lights up, getting me to thinkthat maybe Holden really is just trying to get through this busy season. But as we receive our food, doubt trickles back in because January is looking to be even busier than right now.
I’ve given myself until Christmas Eve to see if Holden holds true to his promise of a promotion, but I don’t know if I can wait to start looking for jobs. As much as it’ll hurt not to see Holden every day, deep down I know it might be the best thing for me. It’s not healthy loving someone you just can’t have.
Capri: You still have to work the day after Thanksgiving?
Me: Yes.
Capri: Tell Holden to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.
Me:
Capri: I know you love him, but there are red flags flying everywhere.
Me: Didn’t Zane fly his own red flag the day you met?
Capri: It was one, Atlanta, not twenty.
I step off the treadmill, frustration coursing through me. My cousin’s right.
Ugh.
Why do I have to be in love with a grump who keeps dangling a promotion in front of me?
I know what he’s doing. He’s afraid that I’ll leave him just like his other lead designer.
But if he’s not careful, he’ll push me out the door anyway.
And that would be a tragedy because I know that we’d be so good together.
Chapter 3
Holden
I sit back on my leather couch, looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the mountain creek that runs through my property. My neighborhood isn't a typical city neighborhood, but large plots of land with a mix of old and new homes.
I designed this home with the intention to sell someday. It's a great three-bedroom mountain contemporary, a redesign that's a mix of mid-century modern and farmhouse. The graduated slope down to the creek is what sold me, Hope Peak as a backdrop.
When the business started making serious money, I bought 110 acres on the edge of town, the same creek running through it. There's something about a mountain view with water that puts my soul at rest.
I have design ideas for my future home, but I'm a single guy. I don't need a large space for kids to run around in or extra rooms for my wife's hobbies. I picture Atlanta, her pretty hazel eyesfilled with disappointment when I suggested talking about the promotion at the first of the year.
I knock my head back on the headrest several times and take a sip of Moose Drool Brown Ale. I can't keep putting her off, and a knot forms deep in my stomach. I don't want to lose her the way I lost my last design lead, but if I'm not careful, I may. She might make the choice for me.
My phone pings with a text from my sister.
Tiffany: Can you talk?
Me: On a call.
I don't feel like talking to my older sister. She's been on me about attending my niece's Christmas recital. It's not that I don't love Bailey. The day she was born is one of the best of my life. But the thought of sitting shoulder to shoulder for an hour and a half watching little kids dance sounds like a special form of torture reserved for Tiff, not me.
The lights in the house flicker, which is unusual, being that there's not a storm. There's not really any wind.
Tiffany: Are you lying about the phone call?
Me: No. Now quit interrupting my meeting to—Sis, I've gotta text later. The power just went out.
Tiffany: On a call and the power’s out? You have a backup generator wired to the house. You’re a better liar than that.
