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Mila clears her throat, stepping in smoothly to diffuse the tension. “I think you both bring up excellent points. There’s a way to merge these ideas, to create a design that’s both modern and inviting. We don’t need to choose one over the other.”
For the next hour, she takes us through her plan to use contemporary furniture, but soften it with warm tones and textured fabrics.
Andrew listens carefully. I can tell he’s weighing her words, and I appreciate that he’s at least open to considering a compromise. “That could work,” he says finally, his tone a bit more relaxed. “We could experiment with a few rooms first, see how they come together.”
I nod, relieved that the conversation is moving in a more positive direction. “I like that idea. We can have a few mock-ups prepared and get feedback before we roll it out across the entire hotel.”
Mila smiles, clearly pleased that she managed to bridge the gap between us. “Great. I’ll have the team prepare a few design boards based on that concept, and we can review them at the next meeting.”
The rest of the meeting flows much smoother after that. The team discusses fabric choices, furniture arrangements, and possible color schemes.
Andrew offers his insights, and I add mine, and we manage to find a balance, with Mila expertly guiding us through the process.
By the time the meeting wraps up, Andrew seems more at ease.
We step outside, and Andrew grins at me, a rare lightness in his expression. “We survived that without killing each other,” he says, his tone teasing.
I laugh, relief washing over me. For a moment, it feels like we’ve found a middle ground, and maybe things can start to feel less strained between us.
But just as I’m about to respond, a loud, sharp noise cuts through the air, reverberating from the direction of the military base.
It sounds like an explosion—a controlled one, maybe part of a drill, but the noise is sudden and jarring.
Before I can even process what’s happening, Andrew flinches. His whole body stiffens, and in an instant, he’s in a defensive stance, his eyes wide and alert, scanning the area.
His hands curl into fists, his breathing sharp and ragged, like he’s bracing for an attack.
My heart clenches as I watch him, realization dawning on me. It’s not just a reflex; this is something deeper, something raw.
I’ve never seen him react like this, but the way he’s coiled up, ready to fight or flee, it’s as if he’s been transported somewhere else entirely.
“Andrew,” I say softly, stepping closer, trying to bring him back. “It’s okay. It was just a drill.”
He doesn’t respond right away. His eyes are distant, unfocused, and I can see the struggle, like he’s trying to claw his way out of whatever dark place his mind has taken him.
I reach out, gently touching his arm. “Andrew,” I say again, a little firmer this time. “Look at me.”
His head snaps around, and when he meets my eyes, it’s like a switch flips. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, and he blinks, as if waking up from a bad dream.
“Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head, his voice rough. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
I don’t know what to say. My chest tightens with a mix of concern and sadness, but I don’t want to push him, not after this morning. “You don’t have to apologize,” I say softly, my hand still on his arm.
The driver brings the car around and we get in. We’re both quiet on the drive back to the office, until Andrew speaks.
“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?”
For a moment, I’m tempted to say yes. I want to spend more time with him, to see if we can get back to the easy camaraderie we had earlier today. But then I agreed to dinner with Daniel.
“I can’t,” I say. “I have a prior engagement.”
Andrew’s face falls slightly, the light in his eyes dimming. “Oh.” He tries to hide his disappointment. “No problem,” he says with a shrug, trying to sound casual. “Another time, then.”
“Yeah, another time,” I echo.
Chapter 22: Emily
“Why didn’t you tell him the truth, that you were going to have dinner with Daniel and explain your reasons why?” Lisa asks me in between yoga poses.