My Riley

Chapter Twelve-Riley

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe.

Everything had finally arrived.

The last shipment had cleared customs two days ago, and when my secretary called to tell me, I honestly had to sit down for a moment.

Furniture.

Lighting.

Decorative pieces.

Custom materials.

Everything we had been waiting on.

Everything that had been delayed at the port, held up in transit, or stuck somewhere between suppliers and us had finally made its way to the headquarters.

It was a huge relief.

The project could finally move the way I had originally planned.

No more constantly checking shipping updates.

No more calling suppliers first thing in the morning.

No more hearing the words customs clearance every time my phone rang.

We could work.

Really work.

My team had spent the last two days organizing everything that had arrived, checking quantities, inspecting the pieces for damage, and moving everything into the correct areas of the building.

I had gone through the inventory myself.

Everything was there.

Almost everything.

There was one problem.

One light.

One very specific light.

And unfortunately, it was not just any light.

It was one of the custom pieces I had selected for one of the main executive areas.

The design depended on it.

It wasn’t something I could simply replace with another light from a random supplier without changing the entire look.

And when the box was opened, I immediately knew something was wrong.

The fixture was damaged.

Not slightly damaged.

Broken.

I stared at it for several seconds.

“No.”

My secretary looked at me.

“It’s broken?”

“Yes.”

She sighed.

“I’ll contact the company.”

“Please do.”

She called them immediately.

I followed up myself later.

The company apologized and said they could replace it.

That should have been good news.

It wasn’t.

Because when I asked when the replacement would be available, there was a long pause.

Then the representative told me they were completely out of stock.

The next shipment wouldn’t arrive for months.

Six months.

Six.

Months.

I remember staring at my phone after the call ended.

“No.”

That was not happening.

I wasn’t waiting six months for one light.

The project had already taken months of planning.

We had finally gotten everything we needed.

The building was moving quickly.

There was no way I was going to let one fixture hold up an entire section of the headquarters.

So I called the company again.

Then again.

I asked about other branches.

Warehouses.

Distributors.

Stores.

Anything.

The answer was always the same.

Nothing.

Until today.

Today, I was supposed to have my weekly meeting with Vincent.

Two o’clock.

As usual.

I had already prepared the updated documents.

Progress reports.

Installation schedules.

The remaining budget.

Everything was ready.

Then my phone rang.

It was the lighting company.

I answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Rosewood?”

“Yes.”

“We may have found one.”

I sat up straighter.

“One what?”

“The light fixture you’re looking for.”

I stopped.

“What?”

“One of our stores may still have the exact model in stock.”

My heart actually jumped.

“You’re sure?”

“We’re checking the inventory now.”

“Where?”

The representative gave me the location.

I stared at the wall.

It was far.

Very far.

About three hours away.

Three hours there.

Three hours back.

Six hours on the road.

I looked at the time.

Then at my meeting schedule.

I had a choice.

I could wait.

Or I could go.

I didn’t need long to decide.

“I’ll take it.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll go there myself.”

There was no reason to wait for someone else to check it.

If that light was actually there, I needed it.

Immediately.

I pulled up my email.

I wrote to Vincent.

I explained that an unexpected issue had come up with one of the remaining materials and that I wouldn’t be able to attend our scheduled meeting that afternoon.

I didn’t go into too much detail.

I simply told him I needed to handle something pressing related to the project.

I expected him to understand.

A few minutes later, my phone notified me of a reply.

I opened it.

He didn’t seem pleased about changing the meeting.

But he didn’t object either.

He suggested that we could simply have the meeting tomorrow instead.

Tomorrow.

Saturday.

I replied that I could meet him anywhere that was convenient for him.

His response came shortly after.

Tomorrow is Saturday. I’ll be at home.

I stared at the message.

His house.

I hadn’t been there before.

I hesitated for only a moment.

Then I replied.

That’s fine. I’ll come to you.

It was settled.

Saturday.

At his house.

I put my phone down.

Then I grabbed my keys.

⸻

The drive felt longer than three hours.

Maybe because I kept thinking about the project.

The road stretched ahead of me as I drove.

I had my phone connected to the car, but I wasn’t interested in music.

My mind was already busy.

I thought about the headquarters.

The lobby.

The reception area.

The executive offices.

The conference rooms.

The boardroom.

Vincent’s office.

Everything was beginning to look like the picture I had originally imagined.

And that made the broken light even more frustrating.

I didn’t want to compromise.

Not after coming this far.

The headquarters wasn’t just another job anymore.

It was my work.

My name was attached to it.

My reputation was attached to it.

And when people eventually walked into that building, I wanted them to feel what I had intended them to feel.

Warmth.

Confidence.

Elegance.

Not something thrown together because one piece had become inconvenient.

So yes.

I was willing to drive six hours for one light.

Maybe that sounded ridiculous.

But I knew why I was doing it.

Because sometimes one small thing could affect the whole picture.

And I cared about the whole picture.

Three hours later, I finally arrived.

I parked outside the store and got out.

I walked inside.

“Hello.”

A staff member approached me.

“Can I help you?”

“I called earlier about a specific light fixture.”

She asked for the model number.

I gave it to her.

She checked the system.

Then she looked up.

“I believe we have one.”

My heart lifted.

“Really?”

“Yes. Let me confirm.”

She disappeared into the back.

I stood there waiting.

A few minutes later, she returned.

And there it was.

The exact light.

The same model.

The same design.

The same finish.

The same everything.

I actually smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see that.”

She laughed.

“It must be important.”

“It is.”

Very important.

I paid for it immediately.

Before they packed it, I inspected it myself.

No damage.

No cracks.

Everything intact.

Perfect.

I almost laughed from relief.

After weeks of dealing with shipments, delays, suppliers, customs, and schedules, somehow the biggest victory of my day was finding one light.

I carefully placed it in my vehicle.

Then I took a picture and sent it to my secretary.

Found it.

She replied almost immediately.

Thank God!

I smiled.

I sent her another message.

Make sure the team is ready for installation when I get back.

Already told them.

Of course she had.

That’s why I trusted her.

I got back into the car.

Before starting the engine, I looked at the time.

It was going to be another three hours home.

I sighed.

“Okay.”

I started the car.

Six hours.

For one light.

But as I drove away, I didn’t regret it.

Not even a little.

Because when that light was finally installed, nobody would know what it had taken to get it there.

They would just see the finished room.

They would see the way the light fell across the furniture.

The way it softened the space.

The way everything came together.

And that’s how it was supposed to be.

Good design wasn’t supposed to show the struggle behind it.

It was supposed to make the struggle invisible.

I smiled faintly as I continued down the road.

Tomorrow, I’d see Vincent.

At his house.

We would discuss the project.

The remaining work.

The schedule.

The final details.

And hopefully, by then, I would have forgotten how exhausted I was.

Hopefully.

Because right now, I still had three hours of driving ahead of me.

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel.

The headquarters was finally coming together.

And I wasn’t going to let one broken light stop that.