Chapter Eleven
Liam
I climb out of my private helicopter and head for the elevator that will take me down into the ADE offices on the floors below. I have to meet with Ted and a client to finalize a few plans before we begin demolition and break ground on the new multi-use building, but I find that I really don't want to be in Seattle today.
“Suck it up,” I mutter to myself as I swipe the pad with my key card and step into the elevator. “You've got work to do.”
On the ride down, an image of Paige Samuels pops into my mind. It's been a few days since she came over for coffee and every day since then, I've had to physically fight the urge to go down into town to see her again. I'm not in the place for starting a new relationship. I've told myself that about a thousand times – and that's just today.
But I'd be lying to myself if I said I wasn't intrigued by Paige. She's gorgeous, yes, but there's something more to her. Something deeper. Something different. She's intelligent. Fiery. Passionate. She's so unlike anybody I've ever been with before –especially Brittany.
In the days since she'd come over, I found myself thinking about her. Thinking about her a lot. There's something about that woman that compels me. I feel drawn to her. The conversation flowed so easily between us the other day and it honestly didn’t take long before I felt comfortable enough to open up – if only a tiny bit.
Speaking of my childhood or the passing of my parents isn't something I normally do. Especially not with strangers. But, something about Paige made me feel comfortable enough to share that with her. I can't explain it. I don't understand it. Yet, I can't say that it feels bad or wrong. In fact, it's the total opposite of that.
I know that honestly, it should make me nervous and force me to keep my guard up. I'm obviously not the best judge of women. But, I get a good vibe from Paige Samuels. And whatever that thing about her is that I can't quite define, I'm not scared of it. If I were smart, I would be. But, I'm not.
Then again, I have no idea how she feels or what she's thinking. She bolted out of my place pretty quickly the other day, so all of this ridiculous teenage-like angst that I'm feeling at the moment could be misplaced. But, I want to find out. And I aim to do just that.
The elevator chimes softly and the door slides open. I step out into the hive of activity that is Anderson Development Enterprises. I walk through the lobby, greet a few of my employees as I pass, and head down into the wing that houses the executive offices.
“Good morning, Alice,” I say. “How's your solitaire game going? Or are you on Tinder today?”
Alice has been my assistant for years. She looks up from her computer screen when I enter my office suite. While Janice is my right hand in keeping everything at home running smoothly, Alice is my right hand at the office. She's somebody that I know I can trust and count on.
In fact, she had a lot to do with my decision to get out of Seattle and work from home. She saw the toll the situation with Brittany was taking on me and suggested that a change of scenery would help recharge my batteries. It was her suggestion that I telecommute.
If I didn't have somebody as reliable as her holding down the fort, I never would have entertained the notion. But, she'd offered to pick up some of the day-to-day slack to give me the freedom I needed. She initially turned down the raise I offered to give her for filling in the gap like she is. Even so, I went ahead and made the appropriate adjustments with the payroll department anyways. She deserves it.
Alice is a good woman and I'm lucky to have her as an employee. It's important to me that she knows that.
“Hilarious as always, Mr. Anderson,” she says dryly. “Nice to see you. Ted called and said that he and Mr. Brubaker will be here by noon.”
It's always Mr. Anderson with her. I've told her more times than I can count to call me Liam, but she refuses. She says it's not proper or appropriate. I don't let just anybody get away with calling me by my first name, but my relationship with Alice is different.
I glance at my watch and see that I've got about half an hour before they arrive. “Good,” I say. “Ted's going to be on time for a change.”
“Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Mr. Anderson.”
“Good point,” I say and laugh.
“Shall I have lunch ordered in?” Alice asks.
I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say. “We've got to do a site inspection, so I figure I'll just take them out. If you could make reservations at Del Sol for about two though, I'd appreciate it.”
“Of course,” she says.
“Thank you, Alice.”
I walk into my office and close the door behind me. I drop down behind my desk and stare out the window for a moment. Sitting in this seat, although I've occupied it for a long time now, just feels off to me. It feels foreign. It almost feels like I don't belong in it anymore.
I glance at the corner of my desk and see the wedding photo of Brittany and I that I'd forgotten to pack up. Or throw away, more accurately. Picking it up, I look at it. We'd been so young, and I thought, so in love. I look at my face in the picture though and realize what a fool I was. To have been duped as badly as I had been – it left me feeling like an idiot.
So much has changed in the last couple of months. My entire world has been turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew to be true and right turned out to be a lie. And honestly, it's left me feeling slightly untethered. A little displaced.
In a way, I don't feel like I belong anywhere anymore.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. My father's voice echoes through my head. Yeah, you got kicked in the balls. You can either lay there and cry about it, or you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get on with living your life.
My father was a no-nonsense man. He was extraordinarily kind and loving – and never shy about showing his affection for my brothers and me – but, he also had no use for people who wallowed in self-pity. It was a waste of time and energy, he'd say. He was a firm believer that when life knocked you down, you got back up and punched it back.
It's something he tried to instill in all of us – with varying degrees of success. There's something to be said for having a good wallow now and then.
Ultimately though, he's right. Letting yourself wallow for too long is counterproductive. And the longer you sit in the shit, the harder it will be to get out of it. I drop the frame in the trash can and fire up my computer. It takes a moment for it to boot up, and when it does, I scroll through my emails while I wait for Ted and our client. Alice always goes through my email first, replying to what she can, deleting the garbage, and only forwarding me the important things.
My phone buzzes, alerting me to an incoming text message, so I pick it up and look at the display. When I see the message and who it's from, all I can do is sigh and shake my head. It's from Brittany and it says, “I miss you. Can we talk?”
I drop the phone back onto my desk and lean back in my chair. There are a thousand different ways I can respond to her text, each one pettier than the last. Although part of me wants to snipe back at her and say something entirely cutting, something designed to hurt her, I hold back.
I know that by responding at all I'm opening the door to a conversation with her. At least, in her mind. If I respond, I have no doubt that my phone will be blowing up with messages from her all day. And I really don't have the time for it, so I delete the message without responding.
I go through a few more emails and check in on various projects for a while, losing myself in the natural rhythm of my work. In many ways, I'm a creature of habit and I find the regular patterns of work that I have established for myself to be soothing. Comforting. Familiar. I have a way of doing things. A natural order. It's the same here as it is at home.
Having my set patterns helps to keep my mind focused and organized. It's something else I learned from my father. The older that I get, the more surprised I am to find out how much I am like my old man.
The phone on my desk buzzes and I half-expect it to be Alice telling me that Brittany is on the phone or in the lobby. Thankfully, it’s neither.
“Mr. Arnold and Mr. Brubaker are here, Mr. Anderson,” Alice says.
“Thank you, Alice,” I say. “Go ahead and send them in.”
I put on my best smile and hope it looks authentic as Ted and our client walk into my office. I greet them both, exchanging handshakes and pleasantries. Brubaker is a man with a ton of cash and a desire to see that mountain of money grow. I explain to him that the best way to do it is to pour that money into a building that will earn him not only lucrative tax breaks but rent from a number of tenants.
To maximize his return on investment, I suggest a multi-use building, one with businesses on the ground floor and housing units above. We scouted out locations, selected a sizeable lot in an up-and-coming part of Seattle, and are now in the home stretch of securing his investment money.
For the next hour, we go over the plans and talk about Brubaker's involvement with the project. Ted handles the finer details of building construction and I lay out the particulars of the contract we are going to sign.
After that, I call for a car to take us to our site inspection, which is followed by a late lunch. It all goes like clockwork and by four-thirty in the afternoon, we've secured a multi-million-dollar deal to build Mr. Brubaker's multi-use building.
All in all, it's a good, successful day. Ted wants to go out to have a drink and celebrate, but I decline. I feel good about the deal we just completed, but I'm not really in the mood to be around people, to be honest.
Instead, I head outside into the cool Seattle air and just start walking.