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Zoe makes it possible for me to bring my daughter in to work, and I know that means the world to both me and Sarah. Over the years, Zoe has become more like a sister than my friend. And after Mom died, she’s been the single best support in my life.
My meeting with the Hansons starts promptly at three, and miraculously, though Maks continued to infiltrate my thoughts right up until their arrival, I managed to put together a solid presentation of the vision I have for their home.
“We love it,” Mrs. Hanson says after discussing quietly with her husband.
“You’re sure? You haven’t even seen my alternate suggestions.”
“No, you’ve really nailed our vision,” Mr. Hanson says. “I love the way you’ve opened the space between the living room and dining room, and this classic lighting throughout? That will really fit with the soul of the property.”
My shoulders relax slightly knowing that my newest and most challenging clients to date are happy with my mockups. “That’s great. I’ll start ordering the materials today. I can have the painters in as early as tomorrow, if that works for you. Looks like the kitchen appliances are the only thing on backorder, but they should be in shortly after the flooring is done.”
“How long do you think the project will take?”
“Total? I think we can get this done in three months. The bathrooms and kitchen will take the longest. But my contractors are the best, very good at sticking to a schedule. And if you’re happy with the tile I’ve chosen, we shouldn’t have any supply setbacks. I’ve checked to make sure they’re in stock.”
They share a look and grin.
“That sounds perfect,” Mr. Hanson says.
“Wonderful.” Rising along with the Hansons, I shake each of their hands in turn.
“We have several friends we’ll be recommending you to—friends in search of a high-end interior designer,” Mrs. Hanson adds. “You’ve been such a pleasure to work with, and the quality of your vision only makes me more confident we made the right choice putting our trust in you.” She beams, her red-painted lips stretching across her round face in delight.
“Thank you so much. I can’t tell you what that means to me and my business. I look forward to getting started!”
The Hansons exit my office a few minutes later, and Zoe and Sarah give them a collective goodbye from behind the front desk as the smartly dressed couple head out the glass front door.
Only then do I feel like I can breathe. Something about showcasing my vision to a client for the first time is always so nerve-racking. Even after years of designing concepts that my clients have loved.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out. Maks’s name flashes across the screen, and my heart skips a beat. After thinking about him all day, I wonder if his ears must have been burning.
“Hello?” I answer, a smile tugging at my lips before I even hear his voice.
“What are your plans for later tonight?” His tone today is much more amicable—not commanding like yesterday.
I wonder if that means he’s in a better mood or if he took my words to heart. Whatever the case, his question makes my stomach do an excited flip-flop. Glancing out at the front office, I watch Zoe talking with Sarah, and I hope she’ll be okay keeping an ear out once again.
“Hmm, I was hoping I might find a playroom and a man who knows how to use it.”
“Good,” he rumbles, his deep voice sending a giddy ripple through my chest. “Then my car will pick you up at ten.”
“Great.”
I bite my lip as we hang up, aware that I’m ridiculously excited over seeing him for a third night in a row. Rather than satiating my craving for him, the more I see Maks, the more I seem to want him. I don’t want to think about what that will mean when our time together comes to an end.
For now, I intend to just enjoy it.
23
MAKSIM
Sitting in the leather-clad interior of my sleek, black Escalade, the engine purrs softly as my brothers and I wait for the car to pull to a stop. The midday sun blazes overhead, casting a harsh light on the upscale hotel we’re about to close on. Its modern glass façade glints with the promise of lucrative returns.
But even with victory within reach when it comes to out-maneuvering Aleksandr Volkov on this closing, my mind can’t help but stray to Heidi. The corner of my mouth twitches into the shadow of a grin as one of her ridiculous, nonsensical phrases enters my mind unbidden.
Apparently, it’s a Southern thing—to toss together a random string of words that vaguely sound like the curse word she’s thinking of. After remaining baffled by her expressions for too many nights, I had to ask. She’d been shocked that I wouldn’t know about the tradition. It’s one I find I’m swiftly becoming a fan of, even if I don’t understand it in the least.
But the woman I associate them with has piqued my interest and satiated something inside me no one else has these last four lonely years.
