Beautiful Lies

“You want me to paint over it?” Eva said it slowly, the way she’d speak to a child who had just suggested feeding the dog spaghetti. Across the half-finished living room, Marcus Whitfield stared at the reclaimed oak wall his crew had spent nine days installing. “It’s too busy,” he said. “My decorator in Aspen never used woods like this.” “Your decorator in Aspen has never seen this house.” Eva crossed her arms, keeping her voice pleasant. “This wall is the only thing in this room that makes it feel like someone actually lives here. Everything else is white marble and glass, Marcus. It’s beautiful. It’s also a hotel lobby.” “I like hotel lobbies.” “You like the idea of hotel lobbies.” She walked closer to the wall and ran her fingers over the wood. “What you’ll actually like, in about six months, is walking into a room that feels warm instead of empty. Give it two weeks. If you still hate it, I’ll paint it white myself and cover the labour.” Marcus stared at the wall. Eva waited. She knew that look — he was trying to decide whether he hated the wall or simply hated admitting she was right. Finally, he sighed. “Two weeks.” Eva smiled. “Two weeks.” “You’re stubborn, you know that?” “I’ve been told.” She gave him the smile that had gotten her fired from exactly one job in eight years and hired for a dozen more. “It’s usually a compliment once people know me better.” Marcus shook his head, already reaching for his phone. Eva turned away, hiding her grin. She loved this part of her job. Not the arguing exactly, but the moment someone trusted her enough to let her vision speak for itself. Three hours later, she was still smiling about it. She was curled up on Jayden’s couch with paint samples spread across her lap when he came in from the balcony carrying two glasses of wine. He took one look at her face. “You won.” Eva accepted the glass. “I always win.” “You told a client to keep his ugly wall.” “I told a client his wall isn’t ugly. There’s a difference.“ Jayden dropped onto the couch beside her. “You say that about every wall you fight for.” “Because I’m always right.” He laughed, and Eva smiled into her wine. She had spent the last four years building her design business from the ground up. It wasn’t the biggest firm in Los Angeles, and it didn’t have the Bradford name printed across the front of the building. That was exactly how she wanted it. She wanted clients to hire her because they liked her work, not because of who her family was. “If I just told everyone yes,” She said, “I’d be a very expensive Pinterest board.” Jayden laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Eva found herself smiling just because he was. “I love watching you win,” he said. He looked at her. “You do this thing with your chin right before you say something that ends the argument.” “What thing?” He lifted a finger and tapped her chin. “It goes up about an inch.” “It does not.” “It about does.” She swatted his hand away, laughing. For a while, neither of them spoke. The television played softly in the background, and Jayden’s hand rested against hers like it belonged there. Eva looked around the room. This was the kind of life she’d always wanted. Simple, peaceful. Hers. She hadn’t always believed she’d get it. Eva had been eleven when her parents died. A car accident. A wet road outside the city. She had been told the story so many times in careful, gentle words that sometimes she wasn’t sure which parts she actually remembered and which parts had just been repeated to her over the years. What she remembered clearly was what came after. The quiet house, the funeral, and Nana’s hand holding hers so tightly that Eva didn’t want her to let go. Nana Bradford had raised her after that. She had been there for everything. The school changes, the tutors, the summer programs, the countless rules. Nana had always known what was best for Eva. At least, that’s what Nana believed. Eva loved her grandmother deeply. She knew what Nana had sacrificed for her, and she would never forget it. But sometimes loving Nana felt complicated because Nana had given her almost everything except the feeling that she had chosen any of it for herself. Every school. Every program. Every opportunity. Even the internships Nana had arranged without telling her. Design had been the first thing Eva had chosen completely on her own. It started as a small rebellion. Then it became a career. Client by client, project by project, she had built something that belonged to her. It was the one part of her life Nana hadn’t chosen first. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Nana. Eva reached for it. “Hey, Nana.” She muted the television and tucked the phone against her ear. “You’re up late.” “I’m always up late, darling. You know that.” Nana’s voice was warm and familiar. “I need you to come by tomorrow evening. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Eva sat up a little. “Meet who?” “Just come, Eva. Six o’clock.” There was a short pause. Eva had learned over the years to pay attention to pauses like that. “Wear something nice.” “Nana.” “Six o’clock, darling. I love you.” The line went dead before Eva could ask anything else. She set the phone down slowly, a strange feeling settling in her stomach, one she couldn’t quite name. “Everything okay?” Jayden asked. “I don’t know yet,” she replied. The next evening, Eva pulled up outside her grandmother’s house right at six, smoothing down the front of her dress before she’d even opened the car door. Whatever this was, Nana clearly wanted her to look a certain way. Eva had learned a long time ago that some battles with her grandmother weren’t worth fighting. Another car rolled up the driveway behind her— sleek, black, quietly expensive. Eva barely glanced at it as she reached back into her car for her purse. Then a door closed. Unhurried footsteps crossed the gravel. Something made her look up. He was tall, with dark hair and a face that gave away nothing. His dark suit fit perfectly, as if it had been made for him. He stopped beside his car. He looked up. Their eyes met. Neither of them said a word. For a second, Eva simply stood there, caught off guard by the fact that the stranger seemed to be looking at her as carefully as she was looking at him. She blinked first and looked away. Without saying anything, she tightened her grip on her purse and turned toward the front door. She had come to see Nana. Whoever this man was, Nana could explain.