My chest swells with pride as I watch her admire the craftsmanship of the dining table I had built. A small smile curves her lips as she places her other hand on the table top,spreading her fingers as though she’s marvelling at the feel of the grain beneath her skin.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says, awe and intrigue coating her voice. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s handmade.” I tell her, my gaze sweeping across the black marble epoxy resin embedded into the solid oak wood, its sleek, glossy finish giving the table a bold, luxurious edge. “I built it myself.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
I shake my head slowly and her jaw practically drops to the floor.
“You actually made this?” she asks, dumbfounded.
I nod. “I did. Down to the black iron legs that’s holding it up.”
“Kaden, how are you not making a career out of this?” she blurts, the pitch of her voice rising ever so slightly on the last word.
“I’ve been thinking about it lately,” I reply. “But I’d need a proper business plan before I can invest in this full-time. Because like you said, I’ve got bills to pay.” I flash her a one-sided grin.
“Touché. But just so you know—people would be lining up for your designs.”
“Careful, Hope. You’re dangerously feeding my ego right now.”
She laughs softly, and that mesmerising smile of hers sends a warm flutter through my stomach.
“I’m just speaking the truth. A lot of people would love to get their hands on a piece like this.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say that. I made the coffee table in a similar design, only it’s circular and not rectangular.”
She whirls her head around so quickly, I’m surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash.
Her eyes lock onto the coffee table in the living room, and strides over to inspect it. She sinks into the couch across from the table and smooths a palm over the shiny surface, shaking her head in disbelief.
“This is amazing! It’s so unique, and it fits perfectly with everything,” she says, glancing around the room. Her eyes land on the built-in shelves and TV unit, and she raises a brow. “Let me guess—you built that too?” She gestures towards the wall unit.
“You guessed correct.”
“Shut. The. Front. Door!”
Her wide-eyed expression and high-pitched voice have me chuckling loudly. I’ve never seen anyone react like that to something I made. I used to craft little things for my mother all the time when I was younger, and even she never responded with the same kind of awe and enthusiasm that Hope just did.
“I’m in a state of total shock right now. I think I might need a minute.”
“Okay,” I laugh, shaking my head. “While you do that, can I offer you something to drink?”
“I’ll just take a water, thanks.”
I nod and head straight to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water—one for her, one for me. I hand hers over,and she accepts it eagerly, twisting off the cap and gulping down a generous amount, as if she’s been dying of thirst this whole time.
“Who knew you were hiding such an impressive talent? How long have you been designing and building furniture?”
I ease into the armchair across from her and set my water bottle on the coffee table.
“It started in high school, when I studied woodwork. I wasn’t as skilled back then of course. That takes time and a lot of practice. I stopped for a while because life just got in the way. I kind of surprised myself with how much I still remember.”
“Why didn’t you make a living out of it after you finished high school? From what I can see, you’d definitely have a lot of people interested in buying them.”
“I didn’t really know what the job prospects were like in that field or the demand for such products, and being so young, I was just eager to make money. So I took the first job I was ever offered—a barista position at a small German café. If you’re wondering if I have any other hidden talents—I make a mean macchiato and mocha latte.”
She snorts and the water she just sipped gets stuck in her throat as she coughs it out.
