“You know, I don’t even remember the last time I took some time off for myself. I spent the last fourteen years raising Sadie.”
“Well, now’s your chance.”
I scoff. “And the gambling capital of the country is the place to go?”
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
I peer over at him, wondering how serious his question is. Is he just making conversation? Or does he really want to know? Does he even care to know? “France,” I finally say. “Specifically Paris. Maybe a weekend to the French countryside.”
“Paris?”
I nod. “This might seem totally touristy and cliché, but I want to see Versailles. And the Louvre. And the Eiffel Tower at night with the sparkly lights. And eat a croissant with a latte.” Everett doesn’t say anything, and I suddenly feel embarrassed. I’d told Leo I wanted to go to Paris for our wedding anniversary last year. I told him everything I just told Everett, and he responded with a disparaging scoff. He told me no one goes to Paris anymore. That it’s too cheap and tacky and full of American tourists as if he himself weren’t American. He’d convinced me somewhere like Dubai or Singapore would be much more glamorous than plain old Paris. It didn’t change how much I still wanted to see Paris for all its beauty. “But you know, Vegas is good too. They have their own Eiffel Tower.”
I glance over at Everett, just as we merge onto the 10, and he looks at me with a soft smile that’s somehow comforting and sad at the same time. “You should go to Paris, Teeny.”
“What, like now?”
“Now, next week, next year. Whenever. You should go.”
A joke or some self-deprecating comment about my social life, or lack thereof, sits at the tip of my tongue, but when I look at Everett, the earnestness in his words and the look on his face stops me.
I continue driving, exiting the freeway and taking turns down one-way streets, before we finally pull into the back lot of a large warehouse style building. It’s eerily quiet here. The lot is mostly empty aside from one car parked closest to the back entrance.
“This is it?” Everett asks, peering up at the building.
“Yeah,” I answer, exiting the car.
“Looks a little creepy.”
“It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but I promise her work is amazing. You really aren’t going to find more original work like hers.”
“Well then,” Everett says, gesturing a hand ahead of him. “Lead the way.”
I knock on the large metal roll-up door, the hollow metal clunking against my knuckles, before it opens with a loud clank. It rattles as it rolls up, and I’m greeted with Roberta’s bright face.
“Teeny! You’re early!” We embrace in a tight hug, and she grips my shoulders in her hands. “How is it that you get more stunning every time I see you? Did you do something to your hair?” She lightly tousles it between her fingers.
“Just trying something different.” I fluff my hair and give her a pleased smile with my shoulder turned up. “Roberta, this is Everett. He’s the client I’m shopping for today.”
“Well, client with all the money, please follow me.”
I giggle a small laugh in Everett’s direction, and he smiles warmly, making this entire exchange feel less professional and much more like two people shopping for furniture together. And it’s so unexpectedly intimate.
“So these are some of the large items I finished last month,” Roberta announces as she steps farther into her showroom. “I focused a lot of my attention on making these pieces more modern than traditional. I stuck with more neutral colors for the upholstery, but if you’d like to try different fabrics, I can show you some samples.”
Everett studies the sofas and armchairs Roberta’s walking us through and runs his hands along the rough fabric. “And these will withstand wear?”
“Depending on the fabric you choose, yes,” Roberta answers. “Teeny mentioned your selections are going to be for your hotel? It would probably be best to choose linen. It’s the most durable and moisture resistant.”
There’s a pause in conversation as Everett peruses his options, and Roberta eyes me with an inquisitive eye.
“What do you think, Teen?” Everett asks, looking at me with a fascinated gaze. He has one hand tucked into his pants pocket, and his head is ducked low. As if eager to know my opinion.
“Yeah,” I answer, searching for the right words. “Roberta’s right. Linen would be a good choice, and it won’t look tacky or cheap. And we’ll have plenty of color options to match with the wallpaper designs and drapes.”
He takes a cautious step toward me, his hand moving over his jaw as he muses over my answer. “Yeah?”
I nod. “If you want to run it by Eric before you decide, we can do that. I can take some pictures of a few potential pieces and go from there.”
