CHAPTER46
LARISA
My heart was in my throat as I drove away from the house. When I turned onto the main road, I finally felt safe enough to let the tears that had been burning the backs of my eyes since we’d made our way back downstairs fall.
Fuck. The look on his face and the tightness in his voice when he spoke to me? It was so obvious that he was beyond disappointed in the house. He’d been trying to hide it, but the emotion had shone so clearly from his eyes, even if he’d managed to school his features.
There were parts of it he liked, but everything I’d done for him, he really didn’t. In fact, I was pretty sure that he didn’t even stop at not liking it. He hated it.
I felt horrible. Shame and embarrassment settled over me like a dark heavy cloud. Traffic increased once I neared the town. My fingers balled into a fist, and tears rolled freely down my cheeks as I banged on my steering wheel.
I’d known this was a fucking bad idea. From the very beginning when I’d realized how hands-off he was planning on being, I’d known it would turn out like this. He should’ve been more involved. If not in the actual design, then at the very least in telling me more about what he envisioned the house to be.
In fact, the only parts of the house he’d truly loved had been the kitchen and dining areas, which were also the only parts he’d actually given me any input about. He’d told me he wanted family style so he could cook and not be alienated from the rest of the house. He’d said he wanted it to be comfortable but still be able to entertain. If he’d given me any information about the rest of the house as well, maybe he’d have loved it as much as those areas.
But no. I trust you, Larisa. I want to be surprised. I’m sure I’ll love it. Bullshit. Bullshit. And more bullshit.
As much as I would’ve loved to place all the blame at his door, the ultimate responsibility for providing my clients with everything they could ever want was with me, not him. I shouldn’t have indulged him, and if he’d been any other client, I wouldn’t have. I’d have insisted on his input and I would’ve met with him time and again regarding every idea I’d had to ensure we were on the same page.
As a result of our personal relationship, I hadn’t done what I knew I should’ve, and the fault for that was mine. I never should’ve even taken his darn check.
I was tempted to turn right back around, tear up the check, and tell him I was going to work on it until he was satisfied, but I didn’t do it because I couldn’t bear seeing his disappointment again. Today would go down in history as the biggest failure of my career so far, and I just couldn’t face the client I’d fucked up with right now.
My tears were coming too fast, and I couldn’t stop them, but I also couldn’t go back there until I had a handle on my emotions. He was the one who had the right to be upset, not me. He’d hired a professional to do the job right, and I’d screwed up. Why did he even pay me?
I sure didn’t deserve the money, and I wondered what to do about it all the way home. He wouldn’t take it back, and if I just didn’t cash the check, he’d know and he’d want to follow up with me.
As I walked into my apartment, I spotted the laptop and felt another pang. There was no way I could keep it now. I’d had my doubts before, but he’d bought it for me because he’d believed in me, and I’d failed him.
I kicked off my shoes on my way to my desk, but I didn’t even change before digging around in the small cupboard underneath my drawer where I’d stowed my old computer. Once I found it, I plugged it in and powered it up, getting more frustrated than ever before with the speed of the darn thing.
I still needed a new one, and now that I’d seen what the model he’d gotten me could do, maybe I’d splurge and buy it for myself. It would require me to dig into my savings and to live even more frugally for a little while, but it’d be worth it.
For the time being, though, I carefully transferred all my files to my old laptop and got everything ready to box the one he’d bought for me back up. Thank God, I kept all the packaging for the warranty.
I didn’t know what he’d do with it, but maybe he could sell it and not take too much of a loss since it really was practically brand new. There were definitely more than a few designers who’d be interested if he advertised it at even a hundred dollars less than cost. If I could find out how much he lost on it, I’d pay him the difference myself.
It didn’t matter how much money he had. I usually had a little thing called integrity, and if I wanted to keep what little I must have left in his eyes, then I needed to do the right thing.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll have it couriered back to him.Today, however, I was going to drink too much wine, take a bath, and try to forget how badly I’d messed up. Not just on the house, but with what I’d hoped would be a longer-term business and casual relationship between us.
A sob tore out of me when I realized that I’d lost the opportunity to help him with what he’d had in mind for the future. Sure, I’d had my doubts, but it had finally been something I could do that would make a difference, and I still felt the loss of that chance deeply.
While I waited for the laptops to do their thing and the transfer to be completed, I swiped at my tears with the backs of my hands and halfheartedly padded to my kitchen. There was a bottle of expensive wine I’d gotten from a client in my pantry, but I chose the cheap red bottle I’d bought myself instead. The expensive one was being saved for a special occasion, but this wasn’t it. I didn’t deserve good wine.
Once I had something to celebrate again, I would open that bottle. For now, I was looking for a bottle to drown my sorrows in and the cheap one seemed like the best place for them.
After I plucked it from the cupboard, I cracked open the twist-off top, got a glass out of my cabinet, and filled it to the brim. No fancy, half-poured glasses for me today.
This was a job for a full glass, and I carried the bottle out of the kitchen with me for good measure. Wincing as I took my first sip of the slightly acidic wine, I groaned and followed it up by gulping down a decent amount on my next sip. By the time I got halfway through this glass, it would taste better. I knew it would.
I kept sipping as I walked down my short hallway to my bathroom. I set the bottle down on my vanity but kept my glass in my hand as I bent over and opened the faucets above the bath. With the water now running, I reached for a bottle of bubble bath and dumped a whole lot of that in, too. Sure, I also didn’t really deserve bubbles, but in my opinion, bubbles were for sulking as much as they were for celebrating.
Nothing said sulking and feeling sorry for myself quite as much as drinking wine in a bubble bath before the sun had even set. I felt so miserable that I didn’t even call my mom, opting instead to send her a quick text to tell her I was home safe and that I’d speak to her tomorrow.
If I called her, she’d be able to tell that something was wrong and I couldn’t bring myself to even think about explaining it right now. Saying that I’d messed up everything so badly out loud would just make it real, and that would make it worse.
Besides, I didn’t deserve my mother’s comfort, either. I knew how pathetic I was being, but I honestly didn’t feel like I deserved anything good today. I was too miserable, too disappointed in myself, and frankly, too heartbroken.