Page 26 of The Focal Point

Rolling my eyes, I crossed the room to my temporary desk—the top of yet another bookshelf, over which I had scattered papers, plans, my laptop, and tablet. “And why exactly do I need therapy?”

Kristen followed with a final look at Hank. “Because that guy and his awful friends are still in your head.”

“They are not,” I replied, shuffling through a stack of paper to find a purchase order.

“Then why are you so bent on making sure everyone knows you can do everything yourself?” Her elbow landed on the stack of paper, pinning it to the bookshelf. My lips thinned and my eyes narrowed as she pinned me with a stare.

“Even if I need a therapist, it’s not you.” I pushed at her arm as I tugged the stack out from under her. “And I don’t need a therapist. I’ve always preferred doing things myself, and I get annoyed when I can’t. Especially something like moving a bookshelf that isn’t that heavy.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kristen trailed after me as I crossed the room once more toward the stack of unopened boxes. “That’s why you hate not being able to do everything yourself, and you won’t hire another full-time designer, and you won’t even entertain the idea of dating.”

“One has nothing to do with the other.” I leaned down to see the labels better, but Kristin was distracting me from actually reading them. “As I said, I like being able to do things for myself—I always have—and I’m not hiring another full-time designer because I don’t have that kind of money yet.”

“And the dating?”

“You know why I’m not dating.” I straightened and turned to face my assistant, glaring at her. “I don’t have time for it.”

“Don’t have time or won’t find the time?” came her response, her hands on her hips, her single-arched eyebrow a challenge.

“Can you leave me alone, please?” The request came out far more peevishly than I had meant, but I was getting close to shoving her out the door and locking it behind her. “Don’t you have work to do? In fact, I know you have work to do because I’m your boss.”

The veiled threat didn’t seem to move Kristen in the least. Instead, she took a deep breath as though drawing in patience, the corners of her mouth drawing down.

“I’m worried about you, Bailey,” she said. “I’ve worked for you for, what, three years now? Yeah, outwardly, you’ve gotten over what happened. But in three years, I haven’t seen you go on one date with a guy. And you haven’t gone on many more with friends. I’m the one who has to drag you out every once in a while.”

“There’s more to life than dating and going out.” I crossed the room again, back to my pile of stuff, hoping she would just give it up.

But I knew that was too much to hope for. “There’s more to life than just work, too.” Her footsteps followed me across the floor. “You can’t let one jerk mess that up for you.”

“You should listen to her.” We both looked up to find Hank leaning against the bookshelves, massive arms crossed over his chest. “I spent a lot of years alone because some chick messed me up good. I almost missed my chance with my girl now, but I’m glad I took it, even if I was scared shitless to do it.”

I stared at him for a moment—those were probably the most words I had heard come from the guy since I’d hired him. But I snapped my mouth shut, my hands closing painfully around my tablet.

“Thank you, both of you, for your words of wisdom. I don’t need to hire a therapist with you two around,” I gritted out from a clenched jaw.

Hank just shrugged and returned to the floating shelf he was installing, the words rolling off his back. But Kristen’s expression softened, and I hated that I saw pity along with the concern in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I sighed, my shoulders drooping and guilt creeping in. I knew they were just trying to help. “I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

Kristen put a hand on my arm, her smile empathetic. “I’m not diminishing your accomplishments in any way or saying you should feel differently about them just because you don’t have a boyfriend. But people need connection, and they need it beyond interactions with coworkers or employees. It’s a biological need, Bailey, and one you haven’t had for a long time because some asshole really messed you up.”

I swallowed, unable to meet her gaze because it was too close to the truth. Kristen knew it, too, because she squeezed my shoulder in support and left the room without saying another word, letting what she had said sink in instead.

My one dinner with Liam had shown me it was possible to do something other than work and be alone. It had even shown me how lonely my life really was. It was the first time in a long time, aside from dinners or brunches with my parents or Kristen, that I’d let myself have fun.

And I’d had more than fun. I had laughed, talked about life outside my business, and even allowed myself to linger instead of rushing home. The glow from that night had taken a few days to wear off.

Not that I wasn’t happy—I hadn’t been lying or making excuses about that, either. I loved what I did. I was excited to get up and work every morning, and getting lost in a project was the best part of my day. Perhaps even more than that, I was building something for myself and running my own business, and I felt fulfilled in that area of my life.

But when the workday was done, and it had to end at some point, I had to admit that the rest of my life was the opposite, and I was completely unfulfilled.

Could I say I was one of those women who were not just okay being on their own but completely happy with it? I wished, and man, had I tried. But I wasn’t. I liked having someone to share things with, to laugh with, and to sleep next to each night. Nor could it be some random guy I’d met in a bar—I needed a deep connection.

But I’d been burned once so severely that I had yet to recover. I couldn’t even say fully recovered because I still couldn’t bring myself to date or make friends. I was pretty sure that was as far from recovery as possible.

And yet I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to overcome that deep-seated fear that kept me hanging back and closed off. Somehow, I had managed to do it in my professional life, but my personal life? The part of me that was me? On display to the world? That one I hadn’t figured out yet.