After she’d dropped me off, I managed to get my shirt and shoes off, then collapsed into bed, and that was it. I sank into blissful darkness.
Darkness that was peppered by images of foam-core, X-ACTO knives, drawings, and the smell of glue and coffee, but darkness nonetheless.
Chapter Sixteen
The night off was helpful, but there was still work to be done. The next afternoon, after a solid ten hours of sleep, I returned to the NSFW Zone with a cup of coffee and a fresh case of 5-Hour Energy.
And the second I looked at the unfinished model, the caffeine jumped ship and my body threatened to collapse all over again. Fuck. Right then and there, I promised myself an actual vacation as soon as this chaos was over. I was getting too old for this shit.
But for now, it had to be done, so I sucked it up, sucked down some coffee and got to work.
My current model, a 1:10 scale likeness of the library going up downtown—assuming the city council approved the project and its budget—was nearly finished. The interior was done. I barely remembered putting in all the miniature bookcases, and I had to double-check I’d express-ordered the tiny tables and chairs from the dollhouse supplier we used for furniture that was too time-consuming to build. I had in fact placed the order, so I focused on the exterior. Specifically, the courtyard area.
As I fitted the foam-core piece that would represent the cobblestone patio, my phone buzzed on my desk, and my stomach fluttered. Though I texted with other people, I knew it was him. My kids were either still asleep or in class at this time of day, and Karen never texted me from work. Which left…
Hear you had some time off. Feeling better?
I wrote back, Almost human again. Will be much better once I’ve spent some time with you.
I stared at my message for a moment. Was that too forward? Did it sound too much like I was getting too into this? Too attached? Too—
Shit. My thumb had been hovering a little too close to the send button, and while I’d been overanalyzing my message like a teenager, I’d tapped it. Well, there it went.
I put my phone down beside the miniature patio. Before I’d even picked up the X-ACTO to shave off a tiny irregularity on the edge of the foam-core, my phone vibrated again.
Looking forward to it. I’LL be much better once we’ve spent time together.
I blinked a few times. No, it wasn’t my sleep-deprived brain rearranging the letters.
Let’s hope it’ll be soon, I wrote back. I need it.
Fingers crossed. GTG mtg.
Another meeting? Jesus. I did not envy him. I only had to suffer through a few every week, but his job seemed to be one after another. I had no idea how the man stayed sane.
My eyes darted toward his earlier message.
Looking forward to it. I’LL be much better once we’ve spent time together.
Ah. That explained it. No wonder he needed a Dom—getting topped and tormented probably shook all that death by PowerPoint out of him. Whatever the case, I was happy to give it to him. All the more reason to finish this fucking model ASAP.
“Hey, Jon,” Teagan said after a while. “Could I borrow you for a second?”
“Sure.” I set my pieces down and moved to her table. “What do you need?”
She held up a piece of the model’s roof. “Could you just hold this while I attach the brackets?”
“No problem.” I steadied the edges of the roof gently while she guided the piece into place. Once it was where she wanted it, I held it more firmly.
She picked up a thin wire bracket she’d made. It was one of her little innovations for modeling—carefully fitted and virtually invisible braces instead of cementing the whole roof into place. They made it easier to remove the roof if she needed to, and also provided some give in case the materials warped.
As she slid the first bracket into its place with a set of needle-nose pliers, she said, “Get any sleep last night?”
“More than I have in a while. You?”
She nodded. “It was nice to see my man for more than ten minutes too.” Her eyes flicked up, a piercing glittering in the overhead light. Voice low and discreet, she asked, “Did you have any, um, company?”
“Company? What are you—”
“Oh for God’s sake.” She laughed, rolling her eyes, and shifted her attention back to the thin brace. “You got laid. I know you.”
“What? How the hell do you—”
“You’re running on almost no sleep, with the partners and Marie breathing down your neck, and you haven’t made any noise about committing homicide. So are—oh, you little fucker…” She leaned in closer, scowling at the piece, and gave it a shove.
“Doesn’t fit?”
“No, it fits. It’s just—there it goes.” She nudged it once more. When it was apparently where it belonged, she started on the next bracket. “Anyway. So things must be going well with her?”