Page 95 of Beneath the Surface


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“Hello,” I said as I shook it. “And please, call me Morgan. Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“They’re still working on some minor things inside, so you’ll need to put this on,” Brian said, handing me a hard hat.

I nodded, putting it on. I glanced at my phone before slipping it into my bag and gesturing for the doors. “Shall we?”

I was doing my first walk-through of the building that day with the general contractor to go over the floor plan and check the final dimensions of everything. The team of electricians was also there to go through the lighting plan and ensure everything was switched correctly.

I stepped inside what would be the lobby and glanced around as Brian rambled off the final dimensions. I input them into my program on my tablet, watching as it reconfigured my initial design with the new numbers—they were close enough that it didn’t change much, if anything at all, only shifting things just slightly. Chris then pointed out the outlets and switches before gesturing to the ceiling to show the lighting placements.

Then we moved to the next area and the next. We went room by room, office by office.

We stepped into a larger room, and I glanced around. When I tipped my head back, my brow furrowed. “This is a conference room…”

“Yes,” Brian answered.

I looked over my shoulder. “Do you see anything weird, Chris?” He dipped his brows. “Why is the pendant lighting off-center? Are we going to put the conference table against the wall?”

Chris nodded, making a note in the little pad he was carrying around. “I’ll have them correct that.”

I nodded. “And how are they supposed to turn these lights on?” Chris pointed across the room. “Making them walk across the room to get to the switches makes no sense. They were here by the door in the plans, so we need to fix that.”

“Of course.”

I walked across the room and flipped the switch to turn the lights on, squinting my eyes from practically being blinded. “What is the color temp of these lights? I specified thirty-five hundred kelvin. These are at least five thousand. What do you think they’re going to be doing on this table? Performing surgery?”

I saw Brian rub his mouth to hide his smirk as Chris remained stone-faced and nodded. “I’ll have them fix those and check the others to be sure.”

When we entered what would be Lucas’s office when he had to come there for work, I looked around—it wasn’t a space that would be taken up very often because he did most of his work from Charleston, but like his New York office, he would have to make appearances now and then.

I looked at the design on my tablet once it reconfigured the dimensions, then to the space where his desk would eventually be and pointed. “We need a floor outlet here.”

“They’re putting it in today once they finish the other office spaces,” Chris confirmed. “They did everything in this space last since it wouldn’t be used as much. They wanted to get the other areas done first.”

I nodded. “Makes sense.”

After a good three hours, we made our way back toward the front entrance. I did another cursory check while verifying withBrian that everything we ordered months ago arrived with no damage or delay.So far, so good, I thought to myself.

There hadn’t been any major structural changes, so all of my initial plans were still in place. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be bumps in the road somewhere along the way, like the minor hiccups today with the electrical aspect. I still had plenty of time and people to meet with for something to go completely awry—custom finish carpenters, tile and wallpaper installers, plumbers, accessory installers, painters, floor installers, and finally, the window treatment installers. Then came the delivery of all of the furniture and everything else and the set up of it all.

I thanked Brian and Chris and told them I’d see them tomorrow before heading to my rental car and slipping inside. When I pulled my phone from my purse, a wave of discontent washed over me when I saw theexpectedblank screen. I didn’t even know what exactly I was waiting for.

I shook my head and pushed it aside to call Grace.

While sitting on the private balcony of my suite on a Friday night, I stared at my phone on the table beside me before I let out a breath and glanced away.

I’d just finished dinner, ordering from this local place one of my installers recommended––he suggested the ropa vieja empanadas, and it was one of the best things I’d ever tasted. Now, I was working on my second raspberry mojito while sitting in the quiet. The sky was painted in hues of orange, pink, and deep purple as the sun set, casting a majestic glow over the water. It looked like it came straight from a postcard.

I wasn’t appreciating the picturesque view, however, because I was too lost in my thoughts to do so.

And my thoughts were ofWes.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

When he came by the night before I left, while we were recovering, he looked at me and said my name, and it felt like he was going to say something. I had no idea what was going through his head or what I expected or even wanted him to say, but I felt a wave of disappointment I couldn’t explain when he didn’t sayanything.

I spent the last two weeks feeling that same disappointment every time I looked at my phone and didn’t see one of his playfully bratty messages waiting for me. I couldn’t even explain why. I knew I wasn’t going to hear from him now. Meeting up was the only reason we ever messaged each other, and I wasn’t home to do that, so he had no reason to reach out to me. I think I’d just gotten used to his texts over time, and now that I wasn’t getting them, it felt…weird.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized things between us had been weird for a while. Not in a bad way. But they were…different.