Page 40 of She Was Made for Me

“I freaked out in one of my political science classes. We had to do an impromptu debate—I can’t even remember what the topic was now—but I just… couldn’t do it. I froze. And something weird happened to me. I got all shaky, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I just had to get out of there. Then I couldn’t make myself go back. Every time I tried, I was terrified it would happen again.”

“Oh, Violet,” I murmur. My heart aches for her. “You had a panic attack.”

She glances up at me, surprised. “You think that’s what it was?”

“I… yes, I do.” I wish I could tell her I have a lot of experience with panic attacks, but I can’t get the words out.

She lifts a shoulder, glancing away. “Well, whatever it was, I knew I needed to change my major. I remembered the career adviser at high school had said project management was a growing field, so I changed to that. But then Dad…”

I raise my eyebrows as she trails off again. “He wasn’t happy?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t tell him for months. I was so worried he’d be mad.”

I can’t imagine Rich being angry with Violet for having a panic attack. Not after he was so understanding with me.

“When I eventually told him,” Violet continues, “he didn’t say much, but I could tell he was so disappointed in me.”

I frown. There’s a difference between him being disappointed because she changed her major, and him being disappointed because she felt she couldn’t talk to him about something so important. I open my mouth to say as much when she speaks again.

“And now, with this project…” She stares down at her Greek salad, letting the words hang in the air. There’s definitely something she’s holding back, and I get the sense she wants to share. That there’s a weight she’s carrying, and I could help to lighten that load if she’d let me.

“What about this project?” I prompt gently.

She lifts her gaze to mine, letting it rest on my face for a moment. “Okay,” she says at last, blowing out an unsteady breath. “I’ll tell you, since you’re being so nice to me, but you have to promise not to tell Dad.”

My brows tug together. I take a swig of my beer, conflicted. On the one hand, I really want to know whatever it is she’s going to say. On the other hand, I don’t know how comfortable I am keeping a secret from Rich.

Still, I reason, nothing can be as bad as the feelings I’ve developed for his daughter. That’s one secret I won’t be sharing with him, well, ever.

“Okay,” I reluctantly agree.

“And…” Worry flits over her brow. “You have to promise to be kind to me when I tell you.”

That one is much easier to manage.

“Of course.”

“Right. Okay.” She gulps down a mouthful of wine, swallows, then takes a deep breath.

Man, whatever she’s going to tell me is a big deal. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to keep this from Rich.

“I’ve never worked as a project manager before,” Violet mumbles in a rush, staring at her plate as her cheeks redden.

“You mean, on a reno project?”

“No.” Her blush deepens, and it’s the most endearing thing. “Like, ever. Back in Silicon Valley…” She presses her hands to her cheeks, as if to hide her embarrassment. “I was an assistanttoa project manager, but Dad thought I was an assistant project manager.”

Despite her discomfort, I smile wryly. “Do you watchThe Office?”

A laugh slides from her lips. “Yes. I love that show.” It seems to help her relax a little, and I’m glad.

I take a second to digest her revelation while she reaches for the iced water on the table and takes a long sip. I think about what she’s just shared with me—the panic attack she had in class, how she felt she couldn’t tell Rich about changing her major. And now she’s too afraid to tell him she doesn’t have experience for this job. No wonder she was so adamant we do everything by the book, why she’s so concerned about his approval of her work. That explains a lot, but I would never have known she was inexperienced if she hadn’t told me. I might have doubted her knowledge when it comes to the house itself, but not with the other stuff.

“I worked closely with Deb,” she adds, avoiding my gaze. “She was my boss at my last job. I learned a lot from her. But, yeah… this is my first project.”

I drain my beer. “So what? I think you’re doing a great job. I know I was hard on you to begin with, and”—I cringe—“I’m sorry for that, but, truly, you’re killing it. It’s running like clockwork. That almost never happens on a project like this, and I think it’s because you’re good at what you do. Even the guys have said so.”

A smile touches her mouth at this. “Really?” I nod, and she sighs, her smile sliding away. “Well, that doesn’t change the fact that Dad gave me this job under false pretenses. That he’s spent the past four years thinking something about me that isn’t true.”

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