J
I’ve been thinking about the picture you sent of the cornstalk ironwork. It sent me down a French Quarter ironwork rabbit hole. Maybe we could do something special for our project. If you don’t think it would be too cliche.
I’d responded to John’s text about scheduling details while I was at Jake’s but I hadn’t bothered to tell him I’d been sick. There was no reason to.
ME
I’m sure we can come up with a way to incorporate ironwork. I thought you’d like the cornstalks. They’re from Philadelphia.
J
I did. Very much. It’s not the only thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I held my breath, not sure how to respond. I didn’t want to lead John on. If I hadn’t spent the past two days with Jake, I’d have been happy to flirt. I might not be sure about dating a client, but I’d been sure John was exactly the kind of man I should date. I had no idea what Jake felt, but something had definitely changed for me. I just wasn’t sure what or how much. I held my finger over the screen, willing an appropriate response to come to me. John saved me from myself.
J
I hate that I can’t get back to the city sooner, but I’ll be there for the benefit. We can revisit our discussion then.
ME
I’m looking forward to it.
I might be flirting with the truth. I seemed to be doing a fair bit of that lately, but my response was benign enough for now. Ignoring everything but my coffee for a moment, I pushed the plunger on the French press and poured a cup of the dark French roast I loved into my vintage Antoine’s teacup.
The cobalt-blue decorated cups, from the 1840s restaurant’s early days, were shaped like a teacup but thicker than porcelain so they kept my coffee hot longer. I checked my emails and responded to the cabinet maker about the details for the Benoit project. By the time I finished my second cup, I had things lined up for the built-in bookshelves and the upholsterer. Hitting my stride, I called the client to confirm and to assure her I’d be there to oversee the installation. I’d be glad when I could turn this kind of admin work over to an assistant. My phone buzzed again, but this time I didn’t jump. It was a text from Jake.
JAKE
I could have sworn I fell asleep with a gorgeous woman, warm and willing, in my arms, but I woke up alone. Do you know what might have happened to her? Or was it all a dream?
I pressed my lips together in a futile attempt to hide my grin. At least Alex wasn’t here to see it. If I had any real question about how I felt about Jake, my face seemed more than happy to provide an answer. I couldn’t stop smiling if I tried.
ME
That’s a vivd imagination you’ve got.
I watched the phone, waiting for his response like my eye contact somehow maintained the connection.
JAKE
That’s a shame. It felt so real. And perfect.
ME
That’s the word I’d have used to describe it.
JAKE
So not a dream then?
ME
Not unless it was one of those communal dreams.
JAKE
Brilliant. That means we can repeat the experience. Not the part where you hurl on my feet.
