Why My Heart Stayed Soft for Him

Chapter 2: The Terms We Kept

I found Julian in the site office the next morning, studying the revised budget with our project manager, Lila Grant.

The Bellwether House was three months from reopening, and the work had already consumed enough money to renovate the entire waterfront. The new owners, a small hospitality group called Vale & Harbor, wanted to turn the aging property into a boutique hotel without stripping away its history. They had hired me to design lighting that would make guests feel as if the building had always been beautiful. Julian was leading the restoration.

I'd been told I was the best person for the job. Julian had told me the same thing the first time we'd met. It had taken me a year to learn that he meant it even when he was angry with me.

"You're late," Lila said when I walked in.

"It's eight minutes."

"The electrician has been here since seven."

"I'll apologize to the electrician."

Julian looked up from the budget. "The electrician left."

"Then I'll apologize to an empty chair."

Lila gave me a warning look. "We need to lock the fixture order today. The owner won't approve the custom sconces without a firm quote."

I set my portfolio on the table. "I have the quote."

"From who?"

"Fenwick Lighting. They can rebuild the originals and meet the delivery window."

"The owner thinks they're too expensive."

"Then the owner can explain why every room will look like a renovated airport lounge."

Julian's mouth shifted at one corner. He had always liked my confidence most when it inconvenienced someone else.

"I'm not signing off on a cost increase without a scope comparison," he said.

"Fine. I brought one."

I laid the documents on the table. For the next hour, I spoke about wiring, glass, and the difference between a warm glow and a yellow wash. Julian questioned the measurements. Lila questioned the labor. We argued until the numbers made sense.

It was easier than talking about last night.

When the meeting ended, Lila took the revised estimate to the hotel office. I gathered my samples and slid them into my case.

"Do you have a minute?" Julian asked.

"For work?"

"For the other thing."

"Then no."

He rested his palms on the table. "We need to set boundaries."

I laughed once. "You've been waiting four years to say that."

"I've been trying to say it for four years."

"Not very loudly."

"I know."

The simple admission left me with nothing sharp to throw back. I pulled the strap of my case onto my shoulder. "What boundary do you want?"

"No more making plans in this hotel because we have to work here. No more showing up at each other's apartments after a fight and pretending we've resolved anything because we slept together."

"Do you have a list?"

"I have one request. If we're going to work together, don't ask me to come to your room unless you actually want to talk to me."

"I did want to talk to you."

"Then say that."

"I'm not good at saying it."

"I know."

I hated the gentleness in his voice. "You can't keep making this my fault."

"I'm not. I'm telling you what I'll do from now on. If you ask for s*x when what you want is reassurance, I'm going to ask what you mean."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is."

His eyes held mine. The room was quiet except for the radiator ticking under the window.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"An honest answer, when you have one."

"That's it?"

"It's enough to start."

I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt the familiar pinch of a door closing before I had decided whether I wanted to walk through it.

"Is this because you've met someone?" I asked.

"No."

"Because you're over me?"

"I'm not going to answer a question you've asked as a way to avoid your own."

"You've become very good at this."

"I've had practice."

I left before I could say something worse.

My first breakup with Julian had been my idea. He'd asked me to spend Thanksgiving with his sister and her wife, and I'd heard the word family as a demand for a future I hadn't agreed to. I told him I needed space. Two weeks later, I missed him enough to go to his apartment. We made up in the kitchen and didn't discuss Thanksgiving again.

The second breakup happened when he asked if I wanted to renew my lease near the hotel. I said I wasn't ready to make a decision about where I lived, then accused him of pressuring me. The third came after I accepted a job in Larkspur Bay and complained when Julian asked if we were going to move in together.

The reasons varied. The ending never did. One of us would pull away, the other would wait, and eventually I'd send a message that turned wanting him into a joke.

I'd called it chemistry. Julian had called it a pattern.

By noon, Lila had approved the custom sconces, but the new owners wanted me to prepare a full lighting presentation for the reopening committee. They would decide next week whether to extend my contract through the final installation.

That night, I sat alone at my kitchen table, reviewing the presentation and trying not to check my phone.

Julian didn't text.

I told myself I was glad.

I told myself that three times before I went to bed.