A Beautiful Thought (The Beautiful Series) (24 page)

My mom leaped from her chair and embraced me. “Oh, Damon! That is delightful news!” she cried, backing up and looking up at me. “Falling in love
and
getting your dream job all in such a short time! You have been busy!”

My face fell. “Gail doesn’t know about Boston,” I admitted out loud for the first time, feeling like someone had just sucker-punched me in the gut.

My mom frowned. “But you said you love her?” she asked with a perplexed expression.

“More than anything,” I answered, knowing it was true with everything that I am.

“All the more reason to make it work, Damon,” she repeated as she sat back down. “Go to your interview tomorrow. See how it goes. Then, talk to Gail. Love is the hard part to find in life. But if she loves you as much as you do her, nothing will be powerful enough to stand in your way of being together.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

My mom said something about starting dinner for us. I nodded at her while wondering if Gail would forgive me for keeping her in the dark for so long about this job prospect without so much as a word to her. I should have told her right away.

Now, what if she thinks I was keeping it a secret from her?

We had told each other, no secrets.

After having dinner with my parents, I went back to the hotel, checked in, and showered. Then, I realized time had gotten away from me, and I still needed to book a flight to Boston since I would not be taking the flight back to Lake Tahoe tomorrow.

I grabbed my laptop, sat on the hard hotel bed, and began to search for a nonstop flight to Boston. I found one for six in the morning, and I booked it. The earliest flight I could find returning to Lake Tahoe was Friday evening.

I muttered a curse under my breath at the idea of having to wait so long to see Gail. At least we would have the weekend together.

Missing her like crazy, I reached for my phone. When the screen lit up, the background picture of Gail and me popped up.

I smiled at it while remembering when Gail and I had left Freshies Restaurant, and she’d jumped on my back. I’d given her a piggyback ride all the way to her car. On the way, she had taken her phone out and snapped a few pictures of us together. This one of her kissing my cheek with a smile was my favorite. Then, we had finished our day lazing on the beach together.

God, I fucking miss her.

I scrolled through my contacts, found her name, and called her, longing to hear her voice.

She picked up on the second ring and breathed, “Hello, handsome. I was just thinking about you,” into the line.

She instantly calmed my stressed-out nerves.

“Oh, yeah?” I queried with a grin, interested to know more. I lay back on the bed, propped my arm behind my head on the stiff-ass pillow, and settled in. “And what were you thinking about me?”

“How much I missed you and how
awkward
it feels to be back in my own bed,” she replied coyly as I heard her shifting around.

“I can imagine since we have always slept in mine,” I pondered. “Why don’t you just sleep in my room then?”

“Hmm…maybe I will,” she deliberated.

I heard her shuffle to her feet, pad her way down the short hallway, and plop on my bed.

“I was just debating over that, too. Why do we always sleep in your bed and not mine?”

That was a good question. “I have no idea, babe.” I laughed. “Although, your room is pink with flowery stuff everywhere, so maybe that’s why I instinctively dragged you to mine.”

“Whatever.” She laughed. “Would you rather I paint it blue, give up my girlie clothes, and start wearing manly pants around the house?” she countered sassily.

“Fuck no.” I shook my head as an image of the way her gorgeous legs looked in her dresses flashed before my eyes. “Stay girlie, sweetheart.”

“Thought so. Although, I will take you up on snuggling into your bed.” She snickered.

I wished I were there with her to pull her warm, soft body against me.

“So, how was your meeting today?” she asked while I was still daydreaming about her.

“It went well,” I said, crossing my legs at the ankle. “The job is much larger than what the contractor originally anticipated—or led me to believe, I should say.”

“Is that good or bad?” she asked, sounding worried.

“Both.” I sighed quietly.

“Anything I can do to make it better?” she asked kindly.

My chest tightened. She always wanted to help someone in some way. It was just part of who she was and why I loved her so profoundly.

“You can fly down here, so I can wrap you in my arms,” I said, speaking my inner thoughts out loud.

“I wish.” She unveiled a dreamy sigh. “But I’m so glad you’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Um…that is part of why I’m calling,” I said regretfully. “I have to make an unexpected detour to Boston, so I won’t be home until Friday.”

“Oh, okay,” she murmured, not even arguing or sounding upset, just disappointed.

I thanked the heavens for her understanding because I did not want to argue with her or explain myself over the phone. It needed to be done in person.

“God, I miss you,” I said truthfully.

“Me, too.”

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Sleep tight,” I replied, letting her go, so I could catch some shut-eye before my early flight.

“Good night,” she said sweetly into the phone before I hung up.

“I’m Damon Johnson. I’m here to see Jonathan Reagan for an interview at three,” I explained to the receptionist at William Rawn Associates.

She smiled at me, checked her computer screen, and then met my gaze. “Mr. Reagan will be right with you, sir.” She gestured to the black chairs near the windows in the waiting room. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I responded, giving her a friendly smile before following her directions.

While waiting, I repeatedly ran my work to-do list through my head in order to keep my nerves under control. I was still unable to believe that I was at my dream job, awaiting an interview with the largest architectural firm in the United States.

A tall, lanky man with fair skin and bright red hair emerged from two large double doors off to the left. I rose from my chair as he greeted me with a smile.

“You must be Damon Johnson?” he questioned, extending his hand to me. “I’m Jonathan Reagan. Welcome.”

“Yes, sir.” I shook his firm grip and matched it. “Great to finally meet you.”

“As you,” he responded and motioned me to the doors from where he’d come. “Please follow me, and we can get started.”

“Of course,” I replied, letting him lead the way as I trailed after him.

Walking into an impressive office, Jonathan motioned for me to sit at the front of his desk as he came around to the other side and sat down in his large black leather chair. I gazed over his mahogany wooden desk at him.

“So, Mr. Johnson, as you know, we’ve looked at your background work.”

I nodded.

He kept speaking, “And I must say, for someone of your years, you have an extensive and equally remarkable background.”

“Thank you, sir.” I smiled at his compliment, feeling proud of myself. I had worked hard for it. “Architecture has always been a passion of mine since a young age.”

“I see,” he deliberated. “You never considered any other career in that time?”

This was either a surprise to him or a test, so I answered, “No, sir.”

“That is excellent to hear.” Mr. Reagan smiled. Then, he placed his forearms on his wooden desk, setting one hand on top of the other, as though he were preparing to get down to business. “I’ll be up-front with you, Mr. Johnson. My business partners and I have already agreed you have an extraordinary talent, which is a top priority at William Rawn Associates.”

I nodded.

He continued, “Another significant factor is our staff and loyalty. Whether working directly here or from afar, we strive for all our architects to be able to work with one another as a team. Can you see yourself as that man?” he asked.

Man, he went right for the throat.

But he did say, “or from afar,”
I mused inwardly.

I replied with the utmost honesty, “Yes, sir. I’m a dedicated hard worker, and with every single project I’ve helped design with my team, I’ve given it my all.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that.” Mr. Reagan nodded thoughtfully as another man walked into the room.

I rose from my chair and turned to see Mr. William Rawn himself. It took everything I had to keep my composure as my idol approached me.

His hair was jet-black, and his skin was so tan he looked like he’d just come back from an island or something. He was also much taller than I’d imagined in my mind.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” I said to him, keeping my voice strong and even as I extended my hand to him.

“I assure you, the pleasure is mine,” Mr. Rawn said, shaking my hand. “I will be joining the rest of your interview. I take careful consideration to anyone who joins my staff. So, let’s get down to it, shall we?” he asked with a grin.

Mr. Rawn’s easygoingness put my nerves to rest, and I knew I had to show these two men what I was capable of.

For the next hour, Mr. Rawn and Mr. Reagan hammered me left and right with in-depth questions of my previous work. They even laid out mock architectural designs of buildings and tested my skills to see how I would do with various scenarios. It was downright the most intense yet exhilarating interview of my life.

By the end, I was confident I had nailed it. I left the office feeling exhilarated by the possibility of someday designing a building for their company and getting the chance to work with some of the top leading architects in the world.

But all this was riding on the key words Mr. Reagan had said in the beginning of our meeting—
from afar
.

It was out of my hands for the time being.

Now, it was time to go home to my girl.

~Gail~

Holy mother of cheese balls!

I was excited to finally see Damon tonight as I raced home from work. Three days away from him had been entirely three too many, and I missed him dearly—probably more than what was healthy. But I did not care.

I still had a couple of hours until he would be home, so I started cleaning like a maniac, wanting the apartment to be perfect when he finally came through the door. Then, we could just revel in one another’s company and relax.

I picked up my phone and ordered a pepperoni-and-sausage pizza for delivery in case Damon was hungry, which he always was.

The thought made me smile.

When the clock neared his expected arrival, I flew into my room, pulled out my new black lacy nighty I’d splurged on just for him, and quickly slipped into it.

I walked back into the living room as a key hit the lock. My heartbeat sped up with every passing millisecond, and my eyes watched the door as the knob slowly turned.

Damon walked in and shut the door behind him.

He was dressed in a classic pair of blue jeans and a gray T-shirt. He still managed to take my breath away. My gaze landed on his face, taking in the tired look in his eyes, which changed as he took in the sight of my apparel—or lack of it. His eyes raked over me and filled with longing, reflecting the way I felt inside.