The round table (core group) meeting got a little heated last night and I may have pulled rank, deferring the whole renovation plan until the spring or possibly later, (however long I can stall. Like forever is perfectly fine with me.) much to the unchecked relief of virtually everyone except Dalton, who once again wandered into the room in his pajamas and asked what was going on.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
We can simply get a contractor instead.
Not for this.
I stared out the window while they debated. My own reflection stares back from the dark, surrounded by lights. Ransom was an error. Based on name alone they shouldn't have hired him, but he came well-recommended and was brought in from out of province, which was why he was always here. He had nowhere else to go, in town just for this project. They should have let me hire someone based on interviews instead of just forging ahead. They don't know men the way I know men, and he walked in with a keen overreaching awareness that I picked up on instantly and then revealed his hero complex way too soon. I am a liability, I don't need any others and he scared me with his interest right off the bat.
It wasn't until I pointed that out that they scuttled the plans. Apparently wanting to leave the bones of the house alone wasn't a good enough reason, but being afraid is.
Maybe we can paint, I offer to the groans and exasperated expressions around me. Lochlan snorts and gets up. Yeah. Maybe we can paint.
But later in the dark when he leads me upstairs he asked me what went wrong. He wasn't there, all he has to go on are everyone else's deductions on why Ransom isn't coming back.
He was pushing his way in. He asked me if I was being held here. He could see the marks on me.
Maybe there shouldn't be marks on you. I wouldn't have acted different if I in his shoes. This looks insane from the outside, Peanut. It only makes sense to the Collective. No one we bring in to do the work is going to behave different.
Then we need to present it differently. You and I will book the work and the brother-in-law will deal with the deals, because there's no reason to have PJ and Duncan and Ben at the table. We'll just go over options with them privately.
So we goofed.
Yeah, we goofed.
No harm, no foul, Bridge.
But his words were the same as Ransom's and they make me think, as Lochlan pulls me down into his lap, forcing my arms around his neck and my head tightly into the space between his shoulder and his jaw as his hands slide around my hips in the dark.
Am I being kept here? Is everything okay? If it doesn't look right the outside world, does that make it wrong?
It isn't wrong, Bridgie. Lochlan reads my mind as he loosens my deathgrip from around his shoulders, pushing me away and down on my back before coming back in close so that he can hold me in his arms. It isn't wrong.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
We can simply get a contractor instead.
Not for this.
I stared out the window while they debated. My own reflection stares back from the dark, surrounded by lights. Ransom was an error. Based on name alone they shouldn't have hired him, but he came well-recommended and was brought in from out of province, which was why he was always here. He had nowhere else to go, in town just for this project. They should have let me hire someone based on interviews instead of just forging ahead. They don't know men the way I know men, and he walked in with a keen overreaching awareness that I picked up on instantly and then revealed his hero complex way too soon. I am a liability, I don't need any others and he scared me with his interest right off the bat.
It wasn't until I pointed that out that they scuttled the plans. Apparently wanting to leave the bones of the house alone wasn't a good enough reason, but being afraid is.
Maybe we can paint, I offer to the groans and exasperated expressions around me. Lochlan snorts and gets up. Yeah. Maybe we can paint.
But later in the dark when he leads me upstairs he asked me what went wrong. He wasn't there, all he has to go on are everyone else's deductions on why Ransom isn't coming back.
He was pushing his way in. He asked me if I was being held here. He could see the marks on me.
Maybe there shouldn't be marks on you. I wouldn't have acted different if I in his shoes. This looks insane from the outside, Peanut. It only makes sense to the Collective. No one we bring in to do the work is going to behave different.
Then we need to present it differently. You and I will book the work and the brother-in-law will deal with the deals, because there's no reason to have PJ and Duncan and Ben at the table. We'll just go over options with them privately.
So we goofed.
Yeah, we goofed.
No harm, no foul, Bridge.
But his words were the same as Ransom's and they make me think, as Lochlan pulls me down into his lap, forcing my arms around his neck and my head tightly into the space between his shoulder and his jaw as his hands slide around my hips in the dark.
Am I being kept here? Is everything okay? If it doesn't look right the outside world, does that make it wrong?
It isn't wrong, Bridgie. Lochlan reads my mind as he loosens my deathgrip from around his shoulders, pushing me away and down on my back before coming back in close so that he can hold me in his arms. It isn't wrong.