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What the hell was this?
“What do you think?” he asked, sweeping an arm around the finished room. “A good space for a creative mind?”
“Yeah,” she answered honestly. “It’s… I’m impressed. And I’m not just saying that.”
He took a deep, pleased breath and put his hands on his hips.
Then he turned those hazel eyes on her and her heart tripped. “Doing this room first helped me decide what I wanted to do for your office.”
“My office?”
“Yeah.” He came within three feet, and she had to look up to see him. “Your office is terrible. I’m going to fix it for you.”
“Wait. You think my office is terrible?”
He flashed perfectly white teeth at her.
“You need a workspace suitable for your creative endeavors.”
She was struggling to comprehend what he was saying. “I feel like I did that time that Asa changed the audio translation on my Roku to French and it took me an entire episode ofBrooklyn Nine-Ninebefore I realized something was wrong.”
André chuckled.
And be still her heart, it was still one of her favorite sounds.
“Then let me translate.” He was still smiling. “I am more than ready to gut that cupboard you have the audacity to call an office and build you something you will never want to leave.”
She stared at him, flabbergasted.
There was a lot to address in what he’d just said.
But she didn’t get a chance because he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. She followed him, willingly—even though her heart was chantingno, no, no, no, no—down the hall to her office.
He let go and started pointing at things.
Belatedly, she realized that she should have been drunk for this.
Yes, that would have helped tremendously.
“I would like to set up a workstation for you in the lounge while construction takes place in here. I’m going to tear out all this carpet tomorrow or the day after. Tyrone will be able to do the floor next weekend.” He walked further into the room, vibrating with excitement.
“Remember that restaurant we went to in Paris? The one where we danced on the couches?”
She nodded once, stunned. Overwhelmed.
And was that her heart shattering into a thousand pieces?
He continued.
“I want to do a gallery on the ceiling like they did. Paint it navy and use copper ductwork in here too. And put a couch here, along this wall. But you need a large rug to cover this space since”—he tilted his head to the side—“you wind up on the floor when you’re working. The walls should be cream with gray here and here. And just pillows everywhere.” He moved to the far corner of the room. “I can build a cupboard for these.” He pointed to the amps. “That pulls out like ah, like a trundle…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not a trundle. You know what I mean. So you can move them around easier and load and unload other large…” He clicked his fingers as he sought the correct words. He went with, “Items.”
He crossed to the other side of the room.
“Your desk should be closer to the light. And bigger. This desk is small and quite damaged. I’m going to take out all the overhead lights since you prefer ambient lighting.” He pointed to the one window. “I’ll replace the glass in there which will brighten it up in here during the day. And then install light strips around the perimeter, top and bottom for when you’re working at night. And if it’s not enough light, I have a lamp guy now. He can get me cool lamps.”
He put his hands on his hips and faced her, very pleased with his ideas.
She should tell him it sounded awesome. Amazing even.
