The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave
Author:Laura Dave [Dave, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2021-05-04T00:00:00+00:00
One Year Ago
âYou think you can just pop in here whenever you want?â I said.
I was joking. But I was surprised that Owen snuck up on me, showing up at my workshop unannounced, in the middle of the workday. He didnât usually do that. He spent his days at the offices in Palo Alto, sometimes heading to downtown San Francisco for a meeting. He was rarely home on a weekday, except when Bailey needed him for something.
âIf I popped in whenever I wanted, Iâd be here constantly,â he said. âWhat are we making?â
He rubbed his hands together, happy to be in the studio with me. He loved my work, loved being a part of it. And every time I saw how genuinely he felt that way, it was another small reminder how lucky I was to love him.
âWhat are you doing home so early?â I asked. âIs everything okay?â
âThat depends,â he said.
He lifted my face shield to give me a kiss hello. I was in my work clothesâwhich consisted of a high-necked jacket and that face shieldâa combination that made me look like I belonged in the future and the past at the same time.
âIs my chair finished?â
I kissed him back, draping my arms around his shoulders.
âNot quite yet,â I said. âAnd itâs not your chair.â
It was a Windsor chair I was making for a client in Santa Barbara, for her interior design office, but as soon as Owen had seen it in progressâthe dark, chiseled elm; a heightened hoop backâhe decided we couldnât let it go. He decided it was meant for him.
âWeâll see about that,â he said.
This was when his phone buzzed. Owen looked down at the caller ID, his face darkening. He clicked decline.
âWho was that?â I said.
âAvett,â he said. âIâll call him later.â
He clearly didnât want to talk about it, but I couldnât leave it thereânot when I felt the heat coming off him. Not when he was getting this worked up just from a call he didnât take. âWhatâs going on with him?
âHeâs being a little irrational. Thatâs all.â
âAbout what?â
âThe IPO,â he said. âItâs not a big deal.â
But it was flashing in his eyesâa mix of anger and irritation. Two things he rarely displayed. Two things he had displayed more recently. And, of course, he was standing in my workshop as opposed to in his own office.
I tried to choose my words carefully, wanting to help, but not wanting to undermine him. I didnât have to work in an office, didnât have to deal with the politics of having a boss I had to answer toâsomeone, like Avett Thompson, with whom I might not agree. And yet, I wanted to figure out how to say itâthat I saw Owenâs stress level rising. That it was just a job. That, as far as I was concerned, he could always find another.
Before I said anything, the phone buzzed again. AVETT showing up on the caller ID. Owen looked down at his phone. He looked down at it, like he was going to pick it up, his fingers hovering there.
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