Page 26 of Reaching Gavin

Chapter Ten

I buried myself in work.I’d gone well past workaholic and straight into I live, I breathe, I work. When I wasn’t in my cubicle, ignoring every living soul around me and researching the ins and outs of the proposal I finally decided upon, I was at Sound Coffee. Having an in with one of the managers meant that I could set up shop and stay there for hours without anyone asking me to leave. It had become my unofficial office but with ready access to copious amounts of caffeine.

All the time I was putting into my proposal, two weeks’ worth of effort, was finally starting to pan out. I was less than a month away from the presentation that could decide my fate. Waiting on permits had scored me more time to get things together. Gavin had been so busy with the planning and building commissions that the most I’d heard from him were short emails updating me on the status of the project. Impersonal ones at that, given that they were addressed to the entire office. He kept his distance and I had kept mine. Hopefully, in a few weeks, the sacrifice would prove worth it.

I had no idea what Trevor was working on, but if he was staying up late at night working, he wasn’t doing it in the office or at the coffee shop. I never saw him after hours when I was burning the midnight oil. All the better, because Sound Coffee had begun to feel like my second home. I felt content in the café surrounded on all sides by, but still protected from, the bustling street life of Seattle. Even its industrial chic decor had begun to grow on me.

“You know it’s Friday night, right?” Danny sat down at the seat across from me and peered at the piles of notes on the table. By the end of this, he should get a job at NorthWest Investments. I felt like his steady supply of caffeination had gotten me through this project and would be necessary for years to come.

I offered him a rueful smile and kept typing. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

“Don’t I know that,” he said, leaning back in the chair and spreading his legs, “but even I’m taking off in a few.”

I glanced at my watch in alarm and saw that it was only 7 o’clock. “You aren’t closing?”

“Don’t worry. They know to take care of you.” He nodded toward the baristas still behind the bar. I knew each of them by name now, but that wasn’t the reason I was alarmed. Danny had become a comforting presence in my life. There was no pressure. No expectation. But there was coffee. In a way, it was the healthiest relationship I’d had in a long time. No taking just giving. Unless, of course, you looked at it from his perspective. I was usually taking. Taking up space. Taking coffee. Taking free refills. He never complained though. “How’s it going?”

I kept him apprised of my various ideas, and he’d offered suggestions along the way. Most of them hadn’t been very helpful, but it was pretty sweet.

“I think I’ve nailed down the exhibit aspect,” I told him, “and if I can just figure out the screenings, then I’ll be gold.”

“If anyone can do it, you can.” He gave me a beatific grin, the one that had become such an important part of my daily routine.

I didn’t feel any differently about Danny exactly. He was still Mr. Nice Guy. Still the dependable one. No, I didn’t find my engines revving at the sight of him. But there was something reassuring about his presence. Maybe I’d discounted him. Maybe I should’ve given it a chance to see if it could have become something more. To his credit, he never acted like my late-night work sessions were anything more than a friend sitting in his café. Maybe I owed him more than that. The trouble was that even when I actively tried to consider Danny as an option, all I could think about was Gavin. Despite weeks of keeping my distance, even the slightest thought of him sent me into a tailspin. I’d never be able to give Danny a fair shot.

I’d begun to wonder if nailing this presentation was the best idea after all. How would I feel about Gavin in a few months? Would my initial interest have cooled off? Or would I still be battling this wild interest?

“So are you hoping to get a job there?” Danny asked, tipping his head in the direction of my office building.

I shrugged my shoulders, wondering how he’d managed to hit on exactly what was preoccupying me. But Danny was just perceptive like that, another Mr. Nice Guy trait. “I don’t know. I want to do a good job though. It could be a great reference.”

There. That’s how I needed to think of this. Maybe a future with NorthWest Investments wasn’t my wisest choice, but having them to give me a good recommendation could make all the difference. It was just the fuel I needed to keep the weekend fires burning. I was so close to figuring out the last part of this PR puzzle.

“Hey, I have a question for you.” Danny leaned across the table, lowering his voice.

My stomach did a nervous little flip. If he asked me out, would I say yes? I considered it. I tried to talk myself into it. But with a sinking feeling I realized that no matter how much I wanted to want Danny, it would never happen. “Okay.”

He reached below the table and I froze. Then he pulled out the last thing I expected. A ring box.

I didn’t know what to say. I was pretty certain that I hadn’t been leading him on to this level.

“I’m going to ask my girlfriend to marry me,” he began, and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He paused, looking momentarily confused, but I waved him on. “I can’t decide between the top of the Space Needle or on the big Ferris wheel.”

“How sure are you that she’s going to say yes?” I said without thinking. I could score points for my spontaneous idiocy. The last thing Danny needed to worry about was whether she would say yes or not.

Danny only chuckled. “Pretty sure.”

“Good,” I said with a relieved smile. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a Ferris wheel with someone who’d said no.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I just saw that Prince did it in London and I thought it was a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, but it should be more meaningful to you. Which one of those places has more meaning?” I asked him.

Danny thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Neither really. We haven’t gone to either place. I just wanted a big, romantic gesture.”

“Let me tell you a secret,” I whispered, so it might have more impact. “Most girls don’t want a big gesture. Most girls want to see that you remembered the small things.”

“Small things, huh?”