Page 27 of Designing Love
Ethan
Irehearse a final possible greeting in my head — maybe something nonchalant like, “You busy? Need an extra measuring tape?” as I step up to Sage’s gallery. I’m definitely overthinking this. We planned to meet today after she did some more research at the Purring Page, so I have no reason to be nervous.Right?
The space smells like a strange combination of lavender, fresh paint, and something distinctly burnt — toast, maybe? My gaze sweeps across the scattered sculptures, half-finished canvases, and dozens of paintbrushes soaking in color-stained jars. A swirl of Sage’s distinct energy. It’s both comforting and slightly chaotic, and usually, I enjoy it.
Usually.
I’m taking one step forward when raised voices drift from the back room, freezing me mid-stride. My spine goes rigid. That voice — sharp, entitled — makes me instantly alert.If it involves Sophia, I need to know what’s going on.
“You could’ve told her I’ve been calling!”
That’s a male voice — low, tense, and not friendly. My pulse ratchets up another notch. Without meaning to, I slip further into the gallery, my footsteps muffled by a worn Persian rug. The sense of intrusion tightens in my gut, but curiosity nudges me forward.
“Daniel, you’ve been calling and texting her constantly. She knows you’re trying to reach her…” Sage’s voice is tighter than usual, with a brittle edge that immediately raises my guard.
“She needs to stop ignoring potential clients. She’s not thinking straight,” the man retorts, voice clipped.
Clients. My heart clenches. This is about Sophia, then. My mind’s already leaping to conclusions. She mentioned turning down some big contract, wanting space. Could this guy be a pushy former boss? Or maybe a clingy manager?
I sidle closer, feeling like a spy in a bad detective movie. The man stands by a half-open bead curtain, wearing a fitted suit so completely out of place among Sage’s bohemian chaos that it’s almost comedic. His posture is rigid, and his expression is darker than storm clouds.
Sage stands with her arms crossed tightly, her silver bracelets clinking softly as she shifts her weight. She doesn’t say anything, just watches this man, whose lips are pressed into a thin line.
“Daniel, she wants space… she needs space...” Sage insists.
Daniel?.
“Excuse me,” he interrupts curtly, voice spiking with frustration. “I don’t need relationship advice from someone whose longest commitment is teaching a pottery class.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t talk to her like that,” I say, stepping forward just enough for him to notice. “Sage deserves respect — something you clearly struggle with.”
“Who are you?” Daniel’s furious gaze locks onto me the second he steps around the beaded curtain, and my carefully planned, casual greeting vanishes like morning fog.
“A friend. And you?”
Sage turns toward me, eyebrows lifting. “Ethan,” she breathes, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Her gaze darts between me and Daniel as if trying to decide what comes next.
Daniel eyes me up and down, brow furrowed like he can’t decide if I’m a threat or just an inconvenience. “Another artsy stray?”
Sage quickly corrects him. “Friend. A good friend.”
Daniel just scoffs. “Great. Another nosy, small-town expert.” His tone is thick with condescension, fueling my irritation.
“Expert? Wow — promotion accepted. I was just here to catch up with a friend, but hey, if you want free consulting, let me grab my clipboard.” My humor earns a fleeting grin from Sage, but Daniel looks supremely unimpressed.
“Funny,” he mutters sourly, rolling his eyes.
Sage sighs, stepping between us with a forced calm. “Daniel, please. Don’t drag Ethan into this.”
But it’s too late. “Well, Ethan… My wife needs to come back to Vancouver…”
“Ex-wife,” Sage interjects.
Heat flares in my cheeks.So this is Sophia’s ex.I grind my teeth, mustering a calm front.
“Semantics!” Daniel’s tone is pointed, nearly accusatory. “Sophia’s future is on the line. She needs to work”
My jaw tightens. “She is working. We’re renovating a property,” I shoot back, forcing my voice to stay even.
