Page 11

Magnolia Steel

Fresh paint and sawdust cling to the air as I walk through the new lobby. It’s a construction zone right now—scattered ladders, drop cloths, half-installed light fixtures—but to me? It’s possibility.

I pause in the doorway, lift my phone, and snap a reference photo of the natural light spilling through the east-facing windows. It’s the exact glow I want to mimic in the guest suites—clean, calm, effortless.

“Can we strip the varnish on those beams?” I ask the contractor, gesturing up toward the overhead arch. “I want a rawer texture. Less gloss.”

He nods, making a note, and I move on, stylus in hand, tapping notes into the iPad Alex gifted me on the day I joined Sebring Hotels. Your vision deserves its own space, he’d said, pressing a kiss to my temple. And this is only the beginning.

It still stuns me sometimes how he believes in me. He never wavers, even when I second-guess myself. I told him I wanted to work, that I needed to keep designing, to stay rooted in something that was mine, and he agreed. But more than that, he cleared space for me to fly.

I duck into what will soon be a cozy library lounge off the main hall and I trail my fingers across a swatch of reclaimed wood. Cool to the touch, a bit uneven, a texture that makes a place feel lived in. I smile and jot a note: match tones to warm slate. Add linen contrast. Soft layering.

It’s good to do this again. To be needed and heard. To create something that starts in my head and ends in brick and light and fabric and paint.

Not so long ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have this again. The career. The trust. The confidence. Now? I’m better than back. I’m building. And this time, it’s on a foundation that won’t crack under pressure.

I lift my iPad and swipe to the mood board. Soft sage greens. Bleached driftwood. Dune-toned linens. The design isn’t just aesthetic—it’s emotional. It’s peace and permanence and depth without pretension. It’s a place people will come to rest. To reconnect.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket.

I pull it out expecting a message from Alex or maybe Leilani needing a project update. But I go still when I see the name flashing across the screen.

Gabby.

FaceTime.

My pulse kicks up, uncertain.

Why is she calling me?

My heart ticks faster—not panic but not the opposite either. I haven’t spoken to Gabby since she fired me and I didn’t expect to. Not this way. Not on a random Thursday in the middle of a hotel site visit.

Still, something makes me press Accept .

Her image flickers into view. Her hair is longer now, makeup barely there, but the warmth in her smile hasn’t changed.

“Magnolia,” she says, and there’s affection in her voice. “Wow, look at you. You’re glowing.”

I blink, surprised by the kindness. “Hi. Um… hey.”

Gabby’s eyes soften. “Sorry to call out of the blue. Violet told me the news about you and Alex Sebring.”

I nod, still wary. “We’re together again. Engaged, actually. We’re getting married in November.”

Her smile widens. “I heard. That’s why I called. I wanted to offer my congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I say, cautious but kind. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Gabby’s smile wobbles a little. “I owe you an apology for how I treated you. Fear dictated my decision, and I handled it poorly.”

I don’t rush to respond. I let her apology sit between us.

“You didn’t deserve that. You gave everything to Soul Sync. Your time. Your heart. You supported what we were building more than anyone, and I punished you for finding your soul mate. I made you feel you’d done something wrong by falling in love.”

A slow breath escapes me. I glance down at the floor, and back at the screen.

Gabby continues. “I’ve reflected on it a lot since. And then that report came out––the one telling the world how you met at Soul Sync.”

She leans back in her chair. “Magnolia, the Australian branch blew up overnight. Applications haven’t stopped pouring in. We’re overwhelmed but in the best way. I have you and your fiancé to thank for that.”

Something in me loosens. Not the full knot, not yet.

“I’m glad Soul Sync Australia is doing well. I always believed in what you’re doing.”

Gabby smiles again, this time a little watery. “I mean it. We were sinking and you threw us a life preserver. And in the process, reminded me what the whole damn thing was supposed to be about.”

Gabby hesitates, her smile softening into something smaller. “Listen, I know you don’t need it—not anymore—but I want you to know the door is open. If you ever want your job back, it’s yours. No strings. Only appreciation and respect.”

I’m partly insulted, partly stunned. She believes a warm smile and a dangling offer can undo what she did? I rein it in, and breathe through it. No point in lashing out when I’ve already moved on.

I shake my head. “I appreciate the offer, and I’m happy for Soul Sync, but no. I can’t come back. The ease of your decision to fire me changed everything for me. Not to mention your decision to have security escort me out in front of everyone.”

Her smile falters a little.

“I have a new job now—designing for Sebring Hotels—and I’m building something real for myself and my family’s future. It’s more than employment.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “You know me, Gabby. Once my trust is broken, it doesn’t rebuild. That’s who I am.”

I soften my voice but not my stance. “I’ll always root for you, but I’ll never work for you again.”

Gabby nods, her voice lower when it comes. “You’re right. I broke your trust, and I hate that I did. You’re one of the most talented, genuine women I’ve ever worked with, Magnolia. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”

My throat tightens, but I push through it. “Thanks, and I hope Soul Sync continues to thrive because it deserves to succeed.”

“Please thank Alex for the way he spoke about us in that interview.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Soul Sync will always hold a special place in our hearts because it’s what brought us together.”

Gabby presses her lips together and nods. “Take care of yourself, Magnolia.”

“You too.”

The screen goes dark, and I set the iPad down on the table beside me.

The room is quiet now—just the hum of distant voices from the renovation team and the low shuffle of fabric as I shift in my chair.

I sit for a beat thinking about our call.

She didn’t undo the past, but she acknowledged it.

And me? I’m not carrying it anymore.

I’m too busy building something new. Something beautiful.