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“If men weren’t complicated, what would we do with all our spare time?” I reply jokingly.
The girls both get a contemplative look on their faces before looking at each other and say, “Eat.”
Chapter Forty-One
“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Warren
I smile down at the text on my phone.Good luck today! You’re going to blow his socks off, baby!Even though Jane and I woke this morning in her bed, as we normally do, she still sent me a text to let me know she was thinking of me.
It makes my chest expand with that ever-present love I feel for the woman.
I took the day off at the Leads Building and made my way to Aspen to meet my dad. Today was the lunch with Frederick Sims. We were supposed to be showing him the designs that my dad had drawn up and then, when he pushed on time line, we would also throw out the fact that I was an artist that conveniently had my portfolio with me.
“Nervous?” Dad asks as I hop out of my car and shake my dad’s hand. We were meeting Frederick up in the city where there was restaurant after restaurant for us to pick from. And surprisingly, Frederick asked us to meet him at a diner.
“Nah, not too bad.” I was lying, of course. I was fucking nervous. Not only did I dislike the idea of springing my work on someone—even though he was impossible to get a meeting with—but I wanted this guy to like my work. To want to display my work.
I wanted to have an inkling of the success that I’d been working for. Even if he doesn’t decide to display my work—which would suck, I will move on—I just hoped that he wouldn’t hate it.
“Good. Keep your confidence.”
I nod and we make our way to the front doors of the diner. I keep my portfolio in my messenger bag over one shoulder.
The diner is busy but not packed and we’re able to find a table quickly. We arrive before Frederick, which I like because it gives me a minute to cool my nerves. I run a hand over my hair which is tied back into a bun.
I catch my dad staring at my hair with a crease between his eyebrows. “What?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.” But when he doesn’t look away, I prompt him with a raise of my eyebrow. “Just wondering how Jane feels about her boyfriend having longer hair than hers.”
I scoff a laugh. “It is not longer than hers.”
“Hm, not yet, I suppose.”
I shake my head as a man walks up to our table, the guy is tall and broad with gray peppering through his hair and at first, I don’t realize that this is, indeed, Frederick Sims.
“Freddie, how’s it going?” Dad stands and shakes the guy’s hand, Frederick—or Freddie, apparently—gives Dad a broad smile.
“Henry, good to see you.” I stand as he turns to me and I hold my hand out to him.
“Warren Blake,” I say as Frederick gives my hand a firm shake.
“My son,” Dad explains as we all take our seats again.
“Good to meet you, too, then,” Frederick replies.
Dad and Frederick get into talking about the markets around town and the current political climate. We order drinks and then food and while they’re working on our orders, Dad pulls out his iPad and begins to show Frederick his elaborate designs.
As I watch, a new kind of fascination comes over me at Dad’s designs. It’s… art. In a way, it’s a display of different shapes and colors being drawn into something new. The style of the house and the drawing of the tiles are meticulous.
It’s safe to say that when he’s done walking Frederick through the home design, he and I are both blown away.
“Wow,” Frederick says and picks up the iPad again. “I can’t believe it. You did exactly as I asked.”
“That’s the job,” my dad says modestly.
