Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Rose

After half-an-hour of angry cleaning (like anxious cleaning but more forceful), I've sorted through my art supplies and pulled out the things I'll need for the set project. I'll have to pick up a couple more paint colours, but other than that I'm good to go and no longer feel the need to choose violence. Mostly.

With nothing else requiring my immediate attention, the urge to check my email to see if Phillip's replied returns. Promising myself I'll only refresh once before making lunch, I open the app on my phone not really expecting a response yet. I almost drop my phone, fumbling to catch it when I see his reply waiting for me. My breaths come in short, shallow gasps. Fuck it. I open the email.

[email protected]:

Hi Rose,

Thanks for sending over your design options. They're both beautiful, but since we're on a tight deadline we'll need to go with the second, simpler, design. Will you be able to get Aria's approval today? If she gives us the go-ahead, we should meet to purchase materials tomorrow as discussed. Does 8am at the Bridgewater shopping park work for you?

Best,

Phillip Blackwell

Blackwell Construction

(he/him)

An indignant huff escapes me. I got myself all worked up over sending him my designs only for the result to be anticlimactic. I suppose it's better than the alternative: him hating them and me drowning in an ocean of despair, but the sudden departure of all that nervous energy leaves me feeling untethered. Also… 8am . First, I'm stuck working with Phillip after making a fool of myself in front of him, then I run into Malcolm's mother of all people, and now I'm being forced to trek all the way to the other side of the city centre before eight in the morning. Am I being punished for something I did in a past life? Since Aria already approved both designs before I sent them to Phillip, I reply straight away.

[email protected]:

Hi Phillip,

Aria's fine with us using either option, so we're good to move ahead. 8 tomorrow is fine, see you then.

Best,

Rose Miller

Rose Miller Art

(she/her)

Since I don't have anything else to do until later this afternoon, I decide to take a nap now, knowing I'll be out late this evening with Aria over at Bel's. Once we all graduated from university, he put his fashion design degree to good use making the costumes for Dreamer Entertainment. He and Aria have both been so busy lately that the three of us haven't had the chance to all hang out together for a while.

My alarm goes off a little while later and I wake feeling much more optimistic. I change back into my cute outfit from this morning, because like hell am I going to let Marie Attwater ruin it for me, and head out the door with a smile on my face. Some quality time with my best friends will be the perfect distraction from Phillip, and my run-in with Malcolm's horrible mother.

It's still dark outside when my alarm goes off and, as far as I'm concerned, that means it's not really morning. Now I'm up, dressed, and doing my best impression of a functioning human being. All because I agreed to meet Phillip across town at the shopping park at 8am. Ugh. The buses don't even run up that way this early, so I had to book a taxi that should be arriving any minute.

The chime of a text notification on my phone snaps me out of my sleepy stupor and I hurry to secure the lid of my travel mug before heading out to the car. After a night of broken sleep where I'd struggled to drift off again thanks to the painful muscle spasms in my legs, I'll be running on caffeine and can-do spirit this morning. I'd feel a lot more can-do if my alarm hadn't sounded before sunrise. I'm still not convinced my presence is actually needed for this trip since Phillip is the one who knows what we need, not me, but he and Aria both think it's a good idea for me to tag along. Is this meant to be a kind of team bonding exercise or something? I shudder.

Taking deep breaths, I try to relax and let my coffee work its magic on the journey across town but I'm too anxious. Phillip seemed fine in his email yesterday, but the text he sent when we exchanged numbers made me think he was still a little sore about the whole yelling at him for no reason thing. Honestly, fair. But still. Hopefully we can start fresh today because my nerves can't take treading on eggshells around this man for the next few weeks.

We pull into the Bridgewater shopping park, the sign of the shop I'm supposed to meet Phillip outside is a bright-orange beacon in the grey morning. Cold air greets me as I step out of the taxi and I fumble to button up my coat while juggling my travel mug in my other hand. There's not much open this early on a Monday, so aside from a couple of work vans there aren't many vehicles at this end of the car park, meaning I have an uninterrupted view of Phillip as I cross the distance between us.

Even in a casual outfit of jeans, work boots, and a grey hoodie, he looks better than anyone has a right to this early, because of course he's a morning person. His face lights up with a bright smile when he spots me, dimples on full display. My steps falter for an embarrassing moment. The car park isn't that big, but now we're both just kind of staring at each other as I walk over, it feels like the tarmac stretches on forever.

Determined to act as if I'm completely unaffected by him I march forward, offering a tight-lipped smile in response to his wide grin. Noticing he's holding two take-away cups and has a paper bag tucked under his arm, my mood lifts. If one of those cups is for me, surely that means Phillip wants to start over too.

"Good morning. This is for you." He holds out one of the cups towards me and I immediately zero in on the Snug logo.

"You went back to Snug?"

"I figured we could both use a coffee this morning. When I said it was for you Violet told me your order. There's a muffin too, if you want it." He nods to the paper bag tucked under his arm. I take back every bad thought I've ever had about this man, he is a treasure.

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that," I say, accepting his offerings. Faced with his kind gesture I feel a little guilty for assuming his easy-going personality was all an act before. It's possible I was wrong and that Phillip is actually just… nice .

"I know." He grins teasingly. "But since I was hoping we could start fresh, I thought this would help us get off on the right foot today. Plus, I owe you one for introducing me to Snug. I don't live too far from there but I'd never been in before and it's the best coffee around, no contest."

"I'll be sure to tell Violet you said so next time I see her." I take a grateful sip of my latte that's miles better than the coffee I made at home. It's a little awkward with my travel mug wedged under my arm but nothing is going to keep me from this drink.

"Do you want to leave that in my car?" Phillip asks, looking at the precariously balanced travel mug.

"Yeah, that would be great, if you're sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not. Come on, I'm just over here."

Instead of leading me to one of the vans like I'd been expecting, Phillip heads towards a spacious seven-seater car with the back seats flattened down instead.

"No van?" I ask, curious, since surely that would be a more practical vehicle for him given his job.

"Judging me on my choice of car? Didn't think you were that kind of woman, Rose." He smirks letting me stew in my discomfort for a beat before shrugging. "I have a van at home but prefer driving this when I can. It's pretty likely we'll have to order the wood panels in, so this should be fine to transport whatever we pick up today."

"Oh." Way to win points as a great conversationalist, Rose.

"May I?" Phillip extends his hand towards me and I blink at it in confusion. Does he want me to hold it? Oh, the travel mug. Heat spreads across my cheeks as I hand it over quickly. Once it's safely tucked into his passenger-side door, he locks the car behind him.

"Shall we?" He gestures towards the shop.

"Lead the way."

Not being one for DIY, I've never had a reason to come here. The sheer size of the shop is intimidating and I'm suddenly very glad Phillip is here to guide me. With a high ceiling and seemingly endless rows of aisles it feels more like a warehouse than a shop. Noticing my gawking, Phillip laughs. The warm sound soothes me like warm honey down a sore throat.

"It's intimidating at first but don't worry, I know where we're going." His self-assured smile eases the tension in my shoulders even further.

"That's a relief. Where first?"

Phillip strides confidently down the aisles and I follow closely behind him like a lost puppy.

"We'll get the wood panels ordered now since I doubt they'll have the sizes we want in stock and they'll probably take a couple of days to come in. After that we can grab the smaller stuff."

"Sounds good." Silence falls between us that isn't necessarily uncomfortable, but I clear my throat, feeling like I should make conversation anyway. "So why carpentry? How did you get started?" We're going to be stuck together for weeks so the least I can do is be polite. Although I'm starting to feel like maybe working together is not going to be such a bad thing. Phillip rewards my efforts at small talk with another of his dazzling smiles.

"Through the family business. Dad was a contractor and handyman, he's retired now, but I used to hang out in his garage every weekend watching him work. Probably got underfoot more than I should have, especially when I was little. I was a curious kid," he admits with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Anyway, as soon as I was old enough, he had me helping out with small things. My older brother, Eric, wasn't interested beyond the basics that Dad made sure to teach us both so it kind of became our thing."

"That sounds nice. It's great the two of you can share that." Phillip bobs his head in agreement. All my parents and I shared while I was growing up were awkward dinners in the dining room that felt way too formal for just our small family of three.

"By the time I turned sixteen, I knew enough to help out on jobs in the school holidays and with some of his custom projects at the weekends in term time. Dad was more focused on the contractor work but when he saw how much I loved the carpentry side of things he really encouraged me. Since taking over I split my time more evenly between the two."

"Impressive." I mean it too. He looks a few years older than my twenty-six but still pretty young. Early thirties maybe? It says a lot that he was able to take on his father's business and make it his own.

"Are the two of you still close?"

"Yeah," he answers with a smile. "When my brother moved back to the area with his son, Toby, Mum decided we should have weekly family time so I'm over there for lunch every Sunday."

"That sounds nice," I say, wistfully.

Our conversation pauses when we approach a small kiosk surrounded by stacks and stacks of all kinds of wood. The person behind the counter has light-brown skin, long pin straight hair swept up in a high ponytail, and looks to be in their forties. They recognise Phillip immediately, smiling and exchanging pleasantries. Phillip introduces me quickly before placing an order for the wood panels we need.

First task complete, we continue to navigate the labyrinth masquerading as a building and DIY supply shop. "What about you? Why art?" he asks, picking up our earlier conversation.

"It's something I've always enjoyed. My parents wanted me to do something more serious and said that studying art was a waste of time. I managed to convince them to let me give it a shot after I found a course that offered business modules as well as practical lessons."

"Where did you study?"

"Here, actually. Aria and I both went to Riverbend University. We met working in the student bar on campus and bonded over the late nights dealing with our drunken classmates. Neither of us is that close with our families so we've looked out for each other ever since." I'm not sure why I added that last part. Phillip's laidback nature just makes him so easy to talk to. I'll have to watch myself or risk spilling my whole life story before we're done here.

"Your family must be happy now that you've made a career from your art though, right? Not many people can say that." He looks so hopeful I can't bring myself to tell him my parents and I don't speak anymore unless it's someone's birthday or a holiday. Instead of revealing any more about the mess that is my life right now, I simply offer him a polite smile and shrug one shoulder.

"What else do we need?" Phillip allows my less than subtle subject change, rattling off a list of supplies for us to track down.

We pick up a few more items without really speaking and I feel bad for putting an abrupt end to our conversation. We'd been doing so well. It's not his fault for asking about my parents. After all, I asked questions about his family first and shouldn't have mentioned mine if I didn't want to talk about them. I fiddle with the sleeves of my jumper trying to think of something, anything , to say. When I clear my throat as we walk down another aisle Phillip looks over at me hopefully.

"You mentioned preferring the woodworking side of your business to the other stuff, why is that? I mean, what do you enjoy most about it?"

"There's nothing wrong with the other stuff, as you put it, but it can get a bit repetitive. With the woodworking side of my business, I get a lot of creative freedom. Clients will give me a brief but usually it's not super specific and I can have fun coming up with ideas."

"Have you had any really out-there requests?"

"Yes, actually." He laughs, obviously remembering a good one.

"I want to know about whichever one you just thought of."

"Alright. A couple of years ago I had a pretty strange request. Well, it was kind of sweet in a morbid sort of way…" he trails off.

"Come on, now you have to tell me. What was it?"

"It was… a tribute of sorts. The client was an older woman in her sixties and she wanted something showing all of her cats, past and present."

"Oh, like to hang on the wall or something?" I ask, disappointed it wasn't something more outlandish. A lot of people like having artwork of their pets.

"Not quite," Phillip replies and I perk up. There's hope yet. "She wanted life-size portraits of them all carved onto doors for her kitchen cupboards. Apparently it was the room she spent most of her time in."

"That sounds…" I try to picture it but can't. "How many portraits were there?"

"Fourteen. Top and bottom cupboards," he answers gravely, looking a little paler than usual. "The end result was quite terrifying. I felt like they were watching me." He shudders and I put a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh.

"That's definitely a bold choice. Probably a pretty strong conversation opener when she has visitors."

"Yeah, but I doubt they return for a second visit. Toby, my nephew, stayed with me one weekend while I was working on the final portrait. He always wants to see what I'm working on, but after getting a look at those beasts all lined up in my workshop he stopped asking for a while. Gave him nightmares for a week."

Unable to hold back my laugh this time, I let it fall freely from my lips. Phillip's cornflower-blue eyes dance with mirth, his rumbling laughter joining mine until we're both a little breathless. We continue trading tales of unusual client requests while we grab the remaining items on his list. I don't usually take commissions so don't have as many fun stories to share as Phillip but he doesn't seem to mind, happy to take on most of the conversational burden while I chime in with questions.

As Phillip checks the final thing off his list, small but sturdy-looking wheels with brakes so the set pieces won't roll away whenever they're repositioned, I'm left with a strange sinking feeling in my gut. I'm not quite ready for our time together to come to an end, which is ridiculous. It must be because I'm just so relieved the awkwardness between us is gone. I shake my head at myself as we make our way towards the checkout. I'll be spending plenty of time with Phillip once he's done his part building the set and it's time for me to start painting, we'll be sharing his workshop after all.

When the burly white guy manning the till reads out the total, I'm seized by panic over who's supposed to pay. Why didn't I think of that sooner? I must not do a good job of hiding my inner turmoil since Phillip leans down to reassure me.

"Relax. Purchasing materials is covered by what I'm charging Aria." His quiet words immediately settle my nerves. I have savings, but dropping a load of cash on materials is not in my current budget.

"Right, that makes sense," I reply with a shaky smile. Once my panic recedes it seems obvious that Aria would cover the costs but my stress over this whole project is making me easily flustered.

Once we've packed everything into the long-life bags Phillip brought with him, he pays and we head back out to his car. It's nearly ten and the car park is much busier now. I can't believe we spent two whole hours in there. I guess if anyone was going to make this kind of shopping trip fun, it would be Phillip. I can only imagine how stressful it would have been trying to navigate the shop without him.

The sky has darkened to a stormy grey, the clouds above heavy with the promise of a downpour that could begin at any moment. Frowning, I lift the last bag into the car as I realise my chances of not getting soaked while waiting for my bus home are slim to none.

"Would you like a lift home?" Phillip asks, drawing my attention away from the threatening clouds.

"Um, sure?" It feels weird accepting a lift from a near-stranger but I feel a lot more comfortable around him after this shopping trip. Plus, Aria knows I was meeting him this morning so I guess it can't hurt.

"No pressure," he tells me, palms out. "I just figured since Snug is your local coffee spot, we probably live near each other and it would save you getting caught out when the clouds decide to empty."

I let out a slow breath. I'll be working alone with the man at his house soon anyway. I have to start trusting him at some point.

"A lift would be great if you're sure you don't mind?"

"Hop in." He smiles again and my heartbeat stutters. I swear, those dimples are going to ruin me.