Chapter 6

In the third year, I made a big decision.

I broke away from Grace's studio and started my own company.

It wasn't because we had a falling out. It was the right moment. My own clients and reputation had built up enough that if we kept working together, we'd end up limiting each other.

Grace was totally cool about it. "I always knew you'd make this move. Go for it."

"Thanks," I replied.

"Don't get mushy with me. Loop me in if you land any cool gigs," Grace joked.

I smiled.

I spent ages thinking about a name for the company, and in the end, I settled on PlainWhite Space Design Studio.

The registered capital was 600 thousand dollars. I put in 500 thousand dollars from my own savings, and Joanne insisted on investing 100 thousand dollars.

"You don't really need the money, so why are you investing?" I asked.

"Just to hang out with you. If you ever become a big shot, I can say I was one of the original investors," Joanne joked.

On opening day, the office wasn't fully finished yet.

Grace brought a potted plant, and Charles brought a painting.

The three of us raised our glasses on the raw concrete floor.

"PlainWhite is so you," Charles said.

I asked, "What do you mean?"

"It's clean. You don't want anything extra but what's real," Charles said.

I watched the bubbles rise one by one in my glass.

I wanted to keep it clean because I'd already cut out all the mess from my life.

That first year on my own was absolutely brutal.

Leading a team wasn't about design anymore. Suddenly, I had to manage people, budgets, and deadlines, and every single part of it was a brand-new challenge for me.

One time, the contractor tried to cut corners and used crappy panels. I lost it on them right there at the site and made them rip everything out and start over from scratch.

The contractor's rep got mad. "Ms. Reed, do you have any idea how much more this is going to cost?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is, if anything goes wrong with the quality, it's my reputation on the line," I shot back.

"Why are you so—"

"What? Hard to work with? Yeah, that's right. I'm hard to work with."

In the end, the contractor caved. They had to eat the extra cost themselves.

That night, when I got back, my hands were shaking. It wasn't because of the argument; it was because I hadn't had a bite all day and my blood sugar was tanking.

I leaned back in my chair, nibbling on a couple of cookies, and suddenly remembered how David used to stash snacks in my bag.

"You always forget to eat when you're busy. What if you pass out from hunger?" he'd say.

I closed my eyes, telling myself not to dwell on it.

*****

Fourteen months after PlainWhite was founded, I got a call. "Susan? It's Ethan."

Ethan Woods was the vice president of Northgate Woodland Realty and a college classmate of David's.

My heart skipped a beat. "Mr. Woods, how can I help you?"

Ethan said, "No need for formalities. I've got a project I'd like your take on.

"We picked up an old mansion at Havenbrook Lakeside and are planning to turn it into a private club, but the client wasn't happy with the first two design proposals. Do you have time to chat?"

"Who recommended me?"

"The Haven Estates project has been making the rounds in the industry. I only found out it was you after reading about it, and honestly, I was pretty surprised."

He paused for a moment. "Susan, you're really something now."

I didn't take the bait. "Send the project info to my email. I'll check it out and see if it's a good fit."

"Sure. By the way, how's David doing these days?"

"You'd know better than me. You're the one who went to school with him."

I hung up.

He'd know better than me.

After Ethan sent over the project details, I spent two days going through them and decided it was something I could take on.

Renovating old mansions was my specialty, keeping the original structure intact and breathing new life into it.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

That nagging feeling proved right the day I went to check out the place myself.

The mansion was tucked away on a quiet little road by the lake with three stories, a classic vibe, and surprisingly well-preserved.

When I got there, I spotted a black car parked right out front.

I pushed open the door, and there stood someone I never thought I'd run into.

It wasn't Ethan. It was David.

He was standing in the middle of the lobby, wearing a dark gray coat, and he'd lost a lot of weight since three years ago.

His jawline looked sharper, with faint shadows under his eyes.

The moment he saw me, it was like he'd taken a punch to the gut.

"Susan?" he said.

My mind was racing.

Ethan? Northgate Woodland Realty? David's old college friend?

I had been set up.

I turned and walked out.

"Susan, wait." He rushed after me and seized my wrist.

"Let go," I snapped.

"Listen to me."

"I said, let go."

He didn't let go.

I looked down at his hand, knuckles defined, bones jutting out. This was the same hand that used to slice fruit for me, twist open stubborn bottle caps, and always tilt the umbrella to shield me when it rained.

I yanked my hand free. "There's nothing between us anymore. No matter what tricks you used to get me here, it won't work."

"It's been three years. You changed your number, moved to a new city, and your mom refuses to tell me anything about you. Three years have passed, Susan. Can't you really give me one chance to explain?" he pleaded.

"Explain what?"

"Explain why you wanted a divorce."

I stared at him. "You really don't know?"

His face twisted with urgency, hurt, and pain, all mixed. "I don't know. I never knew. You left the divorce papers and walked out that night, not a single word to me."

"You really don't know?"

"I don't know."

"Then keep it that way."

I turned and walked out of the mansion, got in my car, and hit the gas.

In the rearview mirror, he stood at the end of the road, not moving an inch.

I never looked back.

Back at the office, I texted Ethan: [I'm not taking this project. And please, don't play messenger for anyone else in the future.]

Ethan: [Sorry.]

Then another message came: [Susan, I swear I wasn't trying to set you up. He's been begging me for half a year, and I really couldn't turn him down. Anyway, I get it. You have your reasons.]

I deleted the conversation.

That night, I sat out on the balcony for a long time.

He said he didn't know.

How could he not know?

A guy and another woman lived together. The floral slippers lay around. David knew exactly where the salt was. They cooked together. Did he really need to spell it out for me?

Unless he thought that was normal.

Then there was really nothing left to say.

I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes.

The moon outside was full and bright.

I didn't want to look at it at all.