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“Everything is fine. I’m just taking some measurements.”
“Shirtless?” I blurt out.
His cheeks heat. “Actually, I spilled some coffee on my shirt earlier.” He rubs the back of his neck in obvious discomfort at the implication that he got coffee somewhere other than my shop—the shop that’s literally next door.
I don’t give him a hard time about it, mostly because I’m distracted by the muscles flexing in his shoulders and biceps.
He pauses, considering. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure! I would like to come… uh, I like coming. Yes, I’ll come in,” I chirp awkwardly. Dear god, my lady parts must be running the show because that is not what I meant to say.
“So, uh, what are you measuring?” Way to save it, Lily. When I replay this in my head later tonight, I’ll definitely need the wine first.
He gestures to what looks like a pillar along the inside wall. “See this? It’s called an interior pilaster. They add a lot of character to the space. These are some of the originals.” He runs a hand reverently down the piece. “I want to make sure they’re refinished and protected.”
“Do you do a lot of restorations?” I’m actually curious. You don’t see most investors in their buildings late at night with measuring tape and chalk pencils.
“Woodworking, mostly. I’m fortunate that I get to use it in my job. And even more lucky when I find an old, historic building like this where I can really put it to good use.”
Grayson is clearly passionate and knowledgeable about the topic. Huh. Maybe he isn’t just here as a bigwig investor. Maybe he actually cares about the building.
“It was built with brick and heart pine timber in the late 1800s and early 1900s.” His eyes literally light up as he speaks. “I love old buildings. It’s a good part of the reason I bought this one. I just hope I can find someone to rent the space who appreciates it too.”
“The pilasters are gorgeous. I love the intricate detailing at the top. My space doesn’t have them. In fact, I’ve seen these pillar-things in other buildings around here and have always wished I had one in the shop. I don’t even know why I want it except they’re so pretty. It seems like before I purchase anything for the shop, though, I need to calculate an estimated return on investment. Always strategizing for success.” Shrugging, I smile ruefully. “But sometimes I wish I could get something just because it makes me happy.”
He smiles at me distractedly, a new awareness in his eyes. “I think I wish that for you too, Moon Lily.”
“What about you? Any interesting hobbies?” he asks casually.
My first instinct is to say I don’t have time for hobbies because I’m too busy working on my business. But the wave of sadness that comes with that thought has me hesitating.
For a moment, I’m overwhelmed with new realizations. One, I don’t have any hobbies. Maybe getting coffee with friends or zoning out with TV, but nothing I would classify as an “interesting hobby.” Two, even though I thought my work-a-holic life was behind me, I apparently just changed settings. Which leads to three, the realization that feels like a punch to the gut. Even though I’ve made huge changes in my life on the quest to be my best self, a significant portion of my life is still centered around trying to make my parents proud of me.
The worst part is, I’m not sure how to turn it off. I still want my father to come see the coffee shop I built. I still crave their love and acceptance.
Who knows what kind of expressions Grayson sees run across my face, but it’s something because he’s gentle as he asks, “Moon Lily, hobbies?”
Part of me wants to respond with a snarky, “My hobbies are teasing uptight businessmen.” But the feelings are too raw. They’re right on the surface as I answer him. “I don’t really have any hobbies. And I’m just realizing how lonely that feels.”
