Page 5 of Lessons In Love
After a bad date or two, he was the shoulder I cried on. I’d say we were friends, but according toeveryone, Lachlan Romero didn’tdofriends. Especiallygirlfriends.
Senior year, I was prepared for anything but Lachlan Romero coming into my life full force. I felt eyes on me—protective rather than threatening. He’d drive me home from school, leaving me at the end of the sidewalk, but never walk me up to the house.
Then something changed. I went to the prom with Chad Wilson—theChad Wilson—the guy everyone loved. I loved him too—right up until he got drunk on the spiked punch, threw up on my dress, and tried to get me to leave, with him behind the wheel.
Thankfully, Lachlan was there to intervene. He escorted me to his car, opening the door and helping me in, before he rounded the hood, got behind the wheel, and took me to his place to clean up so my parents wouldn’t smell alcohol on me—even though I hadn’t had a drop.
We talked all night. His t-shirt and sweatpants were way too big for me, but I felt safe in them, cocooned in his woodsy scent. Again he tucked me into his car, drove me slowly across town to my house, and this time, came around the front of the car to open my door and actually walked me up to the front porch.
“I had a good time tonight,” I said softly. “You know, after you… saved me.”
He just nodded, standing in front of me, almost as if he was waiting for something.
Without thinking about it, I moved toward him, rising on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek delicately. “Well, goodnight.”
With that, I turned around and dashed into the house.
The following Monday, everyone at school knew about what happened, and things shifted for me. Lachlan wasn’t just my silent bodyguard—he actually spoke to me, teased me,touchedme. I quickly grew to depend on this new type of interaction. I had friends, but something about what was developing with Lachlan was…more.
Then he asked me out. And my world was transformed. Before he shattered my heart and left me alone and bleeding. Left me trying to pick up the pieces and move on.
Wolf whistles from the construction crew nearby chase away the painful nostalgia gripping my heart. I turn, giving them a saucy smile and calling "you wish" over my shoulder as I walk into the newly renovated office suite we're using as a base of operations.
I spend most of the day walking members of my design team through each aspect of the project. We've gotten final approval and allocations, so now the fun part begins. We'll be working on spaces as the new construction and renovations are completed, so I'll be spending most of my time down here rather than in the stuffy—but perfectly decorated—office.
*****
I've been working down at the wharf for a full week and the changes are already staggering. My team is a well-oiled machine, moving between projects seamlessly. We've only had one small snafu, for which I'm eternally grateful. One of the design assistants tripped over a hammer that was left lying around when the construction crew left for lunch. Thankfully, an apology and some ibuprofen got us back on track quickly.
Leaving from the wharf instead of the office at the end of the day is an entirely different experience. There's no parking near the site—only construction and delivery vehicles are allowed—so my Lexus, my six month anniversary gift from Myles, is in a small parking garage at the edge of the neighborhood.
Thunder rumbles in the sky, reverberating off the buildings as I make my way to the garage, hoping I make it inside before the forecasted rain arrives. Walking faster, grateful for the boots I’m required to wear to the site rather than the heels I wear at the office, I feel fat drops hit my head just as I see the stairwell door up ahead.
My phone dings with a notification and I can’t stifle the groan that escapes.Myles always has the worst timing. The sky opens up just as I open the door, dashing inside, narrowly avoiding the deluge. I grab my phone from my purse as I start walking up the three flights of stairs, cursing the broken elevator as my quads burn.
Myles:We need milk.
I roll my eyes, locking my phone before I respond with what Ireallywant to say.
It dings again. And again.
Myles:And coffee.
Myles:And bananas.
I bite back a bitter curse.Has he forgotten he pays someone for this shit?
Delaney:Okay. I’ll stop by the store on my way home.
Myles:You haven’t left yet?
Myles:Where are you, Delaney?
Myles:Who are you with?
Not for the first time, his barrage of questions seems slightly controlling. The first time this issue arose, I confronted him. He swore he just wanted to make sure I was safe. His explanation made me feel safe and protected—cherished. But the more it happens, the less I feel that way—now it just feels stifling.
Delaney:No one. I’m just leaving the site. I’ll be home soon. Love you.
