There’s another sketch of mine too, one with a loft over the kitchen like my place, and a more compact kitchenette. He asks me to walk him through that one, nodding quietly as I do.
Finally, when I’m done, he says, “How would you feel about working on this project with me? Helping me turn these into renderings we can present to David?”
My mouth pops open in surprise. He’s asking me tohelp? He wants me to work on this with him?
“Really?” I ask, taken aback. This is the last thing I expected.
His gaze catches mine, and something I can’t read flickers there. “Really.”
I grin, a thrill passing through me. “I’d love to.”
“How are you with Revit?”
I get a flashback to class, my thoughts jumbling and tangling as I try to keep up with the instructor, palms sweaty, heart racing, everyone else already onto the next step. Disappointment burrows under my ribs. OfcourseI can’t do this.
“Not good,” I mumble. “It’s one of the reasons…” I let my words trail off, hoping he won’t make me say it.One of the reasons I flunked out.
Aidan softens. His hand moves closer, hovering as if to touch my arm, but he withdraws it. “That’s okay. You keep working by hand, and I’ll get them into Revit.”
I study him cautiously. An unpleasant feeling washes through me, one that makes me want to turn away. It almost… It almost feels as though he’s pitying me. Throwing me a bone after I told him about everything.
And thelastthing I want is his pity.
“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want my help on this? You’re an experienced architect. I can’t even use the proper tools. How can I possibly contribute something useful?”
Aidan scratches his jaw, considering my words. “You have a unique perspective on small spaces,” he says at length. “You saw things I completely missed.”
I absorb this, still unconvinced. I’m so used to feeling like I have nothing of value to offer, like more than anything I’m getting in the way, that I don’t quite know how to take it.
Aidan sighs, setting his pencil down. “Look, this isn’t your job. I get it. If you’re not interested, that’s okay. But if you are…” His eyes move over my face for a moment. “I’d love your help. You can bring something to this that no one else can.”
Out of nowhere, tears spring to my eyes, and I glance away. No one has said anything so nice to me before, and to hear it from Aidan, of all people… I think of Dad yesterday, telling me toleave it to the people who know what they’re doing, and suddenly I want nothing more than to do this. To prove to him I’m capable, even with only half a degree to my name. But will he let me?
“What about Dad?” I ask, turning back to Aidan. “I doubt he’ll want me working on this.”
Aidan wrinkles his nose. “You might be right.” He hesitates, then says, “Don’t worry about him, okay? Let’s keep it between us for now. Once David is happy with the plans, John won’t care who they’ve come from.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but the way Aidan says it makes me feel like it could be. I’m not used to having someone onmyside, for once, and it makes my chest fill with warmth.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Besides,” Aidan adds, chuffing a small laugh, “we both know David preferred you to me.”
I laugh too. “Well, that’s true.”
We share a smile, my heart kicking against my ribs as Aidan gazes at me. We might be in his office, but at this moment he’s not Work Aidan, and it’s messing with my head. I ache to press my lips to his, to show him how grateful I am for this opportunity, how much his kindness means to me. His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering, and my pulse trips when something dark flares in his eyes.
Then he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and looking away. “I’m… going to get coffee,” he mutters, turning to head from the room. I should probably offer to get it for him, since that’s myactualjob, but I sense that’s not what he wants.
Pushing away the dart of disappointment, I turn to the drafting table, taking a deep breath. After talking through my sketches with Aidan, I can see some elements I want to change, and I take a fresh sheet of tracing paper and begin again, combining the best parts from each design. There’s something intimate about using Aidan’s pencil, still warm from his touch, but I force myself to focus on the task at hand. It’s not long before I have a new sketch, my best design yet, and as I finally step away from the table, Aidan appears at my side.
“You should take a break,” he murmurs.
I blink as if coming out of a trance. There’s an ache in my neck from hunching over the paper, and I sweep my hair to one side to massage it gently. Aidan’s eyes follow the motion, and he swallows. It’s then that I notice an empty salad container sitting on his desk, and I frown.
