LAYTONFor some reason, my hands started trembling as I clicked in and selected a program to open the video with. Get it the fuck together, Layton.The picture that came up on my screen was of my father’s office in his building in Boston. There was some movement, as if he was setting the laptop or webcam down where he wanted before sliding in behind it.On the walls behind him, I could see several works of art that had moved with him from home to every office he’d ever had. There was a painting of a sailboat sailing into the sunset. Without being able to see it on the video, I knew the name printed on the back of the boat was Jolene. My mother’s middle name.There was another painting of a lion, one he had commissioned from a photo he took while on safari in Africa. A blueprint design of his first jet hung next to the lion.An unexpected wave of emotion hit me in the chest when I thought of those frames sitting in an exhibit dedicated to him that I hadn’t even visited yet. It intensif
MARISSA“These pancakes are so yummy.” Annie sighed contently, helping herself to another one from the stack sitting on the kitchen island between us. Tiny spots of blueberry specked the fluffy golden disks. Even if I had to say so myself, this was one of the better batches I’d ever made.Meticulously poring over the recipe and actually paying attention while I was cooking them before Annie woke up definitely paid off. I wanted to do something nice for her and Denise to apologize for the gloominess I had tried, and failed, to hide all weekend.Since they both loved blueberry pancakes, it felt like a good place to start my apology. Annie and I were having breakfast by ourselves for now. Denise called earlier to say she would see us today, even though it was a Sunday and one of her few days off, but to carry on with our breakfast without her.I didn’t know what she was doing, but apparently it was going to take her awhile. Curious and suspicious, I was glad I had already mixed up the pa
MARISSAThe aeronautics museum was a sight to behold. It was a massive, sprawling complex filled with high ceilinged hangars and some of the most incredible feats achieved by man. Denise, Annie and I joined hundreds of other visitors in gaping at the displays of man’s attempts to conquer the very skies above.What I hadn’t known before we arrived was that there was a memorial exhibit dedicated to Jeffrey Bridges himself open until June. My eyes filled with tears when I spotted the sign pointing in the direction of the exhibit and I blinked at Denise, totally unable to keep from throwing my arms around my friend. “You’re truly incredible, one of a kind.”She smirked, returning my hug. “That I am, my dear. But so are you, both of you.”I couldn’t believe my eyes when we stepped into the exhibit. There was almost an exact replica of his office where you entered, complete with several paintings and framed blueprints that sure looked real hanging exactly where they used to be on his walls.
LAYTONThe office was tranquil at this time of the morning. I had a good thirty minutes of peace left before the others started arriving and I intended to use every one of them and even soak up the very last second of that time.I was finally making some progress on the blueprints I spent last week struggling with. Getting that video from my dad was the kick in the ass I needed to just get started.Nothing like being demeaned and basically told how useless you are for a bit of inspiration when you’re in a slump. I snorted quietly to myself. That exact phrase could have been my dad’s motto and I found that really sad.Three and a half hours ago I arrived at the office in the blackest part of the morning, glued my ass to my chair and refused to move until the damn design started coming together. Eventually, my stubbornness paid off and I finally had something of a vision for the tree house.I had promised Craig I’d meet him on another site early this morning, but I was tempted to push o
LAYTONMarissa’s shoulders slumped before she squared them again. Uh-oh. Oh no. I know that look.Before I could stop her from saying her piece despite my saying I didn’t have time, she locked her eyes to mine and said confidently, “If I have to wait for you to have time to talk, it’s never going to happen. I want to fix this, Layton.”Fuck. And so she said it anyway. Standing up from my chair, I grabbed my coat hanging from its backrest.If she’d said those words to me weeks ago, I would’ve stayed to hear her out. I would have called Craig and pushed the meeting back to next week if that was what it took. I was humiliated now to think how badly I’d wanted an explanation from her. Back then. Not now.If she came to me a day, two or three, or even four days after pretty much telling me to go fuck myself, I would’ve tried to fix it. As things stood now though, she’d made herself plenty clear that day and every day that followed. “There’s nothing to fix, Marissa.”“But,” she started, as
MARISSAAfter Layton stormed out of his office, I stood there gaping in the doorway. I knew I had screwed things up between us, but I hadn’t expected him to be quite such an asshole about it. On second thought, I really should have seen it coming.Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to come up with a different plan. The office was still quiet and it would be a little while before anyone came in and found me standing like an idiot half in and half out of Layton’s office.I was surprised by how much his cool, dismissive attitude hurt me. When I saw him last week, he was just as cold. I guessed I thought he might have thawed out over the weekend, for some reason. I had hoped he would, given that our first conversation after I’d told him we were done was over and the ice was broken.Sadly, I had let myself believe that the first time would be the worst and that it could only get better from there. It looked like I was wrong. Clenching my fists, I bit back a flood of anger.Yes, I had screwe
MARISSAObviously, that approach didn’t work. The plan I was hatching now was more devious, but its chances of success were relatively high.The one thing I knew about him for sure was that the man was the ultimate perfectionist about his work. If he started with these blueprints, which a quick peek confirmed he had, he wouldn’t start over.What he was busy with would eventually become the perfect work for his client. Starting over wasn’t an option, because it was just right the way it was. Or it wouldn’t have been at all.And that was where Plan B came in. Walking to his desk with as much confidence as I could muster, so I looked like I was exactly where I was supposed to be just in case someone came in to ask what I was doing in here, I carefully rolled up the blueprints and tucked them under my arm.I carried them to my office, hid them safely away from potentially prying eyes and grabbed one of my sticky notes. After scribbling a quick message, I went back to his office and stuck
LAYTONAlem Seafood was an interesting choice for someone who supposedly wanted to talk. It was well-known enough, with reasonably priced, good food. Plastic table cloths covered white plastic tables yellowing with age.The multicolored tablecloths got replaced often enough and were practical given the amount of butter, garlic and other drips that came off the food. They were either green or red and white checkered, giving the place a real old-timey feel.It was almost always packed with locals, which made it an odd choice to pick for any kind of serious talking to take place. Alem was loud and lively, almost always having a live band playing into the night.If it was an intimate discussion you were after, you weren’t going to have it easily at Alem. But perhaps that was the point. Marissa was bubbly and boisterous and fun, just like the restaurant she chose.I wondered if she was more comfortable at this neighborhood favorite because it was more suited to her personality than the pla