Page 11 of Meet Me in a Mile
Eleven
Lydia
L ydia stood barefoot in front of the dramatic wall of windows in her ridiculously tiny top-floor apartment. The historic 1900s town house came with sixteen-foot ceilings, a beautiful skylight and direct views of Gramercy Park, which totally made up for the lack of square footage.
There was nothing she loved more than moments like this, standing in front of these windows, a cup of coffee in her hand, with the silk of her pajamas whispering over her skin as the August sunrise crept over Manhattan. It was almost six thirty, and though she had training this morning, she’d been drawn to her laptop like a moth to a flame to put more finishing touches on her youth center proposal before she met up with Luke.
Lydia had been playing around with her final draft for a week now, making small changes, and she’d reached the point where she was genuinely worried she was just ruining it. But every time she thought she was satisfied with the project and tried to hand it in, she panicked that something might be wrong—a typo or a crooked angle—and she would start reviewing it all over again. At this rate, she wasn’t sure it was ever going to get submitted.
She sipped from her mug of overly sugary coffee. Luke would have rolled his eyes at the amount of flavored creamer she’d dumped into her cup, but she didn’t care. She needed it today. And the thought of his perturbed face all wrinkled up made her chuckle, which was a nice reprieve from remembering the look of stunned disbelief on his face after she’d kissed him the other week. Lydia knew it hadn’t been her finest moment. She’d just gotten caught up, again, in Luke’s warmth, his passion, his excitement and let herself get carried away.
Lydia massaged the bridge of her nose. In her defense, Luke had just finished telling her to listen to her body, to figure out what it needed. Sure, he’d been talking about running at the time, but clearly there’d been a momentary lapse between her mind and body, and the next thing she knew she was kissing him like a fool. Not that Luke had helped the matter. From what she remembered, he’d responded rather enthusiastically as he deepened the kiss...
Thankfully, Luke had chosen not to mention the kiss since, and Lydia saw no reason to bring it up. But even though she wanted to lock the kiss away in a box and drop the key into the Hudson, it was almost harder to bury the moment than it had been to get over their one night together. A kiss was a prelude. It spoke of things to come, unfinished business. But there’s nothing happening between us , she kept reminding herself. Nothing but today’s short run.
If there was any plus side to the kiss, it was that Lydia and Luke had both hyperfocused on getting her miles down to avoid making things awkward, so at least the slip hadn’t derailed her training. In fact, she was feeling solid about her progress. They were building up to run twelve miles this weekend. If someone had told Lydia she’d be running anywhere but to the coffee shop down the street months ago, she would have laughed in their face. Now, it didn’t sound so impossible. Now she knew it was something her body was capable of. Of course, she had more endurance and more stamina, but mentally the challenge of that many miles didn’t terrify her anymore. Ask her about twenty-six miles and an uneasy feeling still ricocheted through her gut, but twelve? She was almost excited by the challenge, especially because she still wanted to make up the shortened ten-mile run.
Lydia finished her coffee, put her mug in the sink, and popped into her room to change for the gym. She stripped and walked past the full-length mirror that leaned against the wall next to the closet, doing a twirl. Lately, she’d started to notice little changes. She’d slimmed down in areas and was more toned in others. The biggest change was the definition in her legs, and feeling extra confident this morning, she chose a pair of running shorts instead of her usual leggings.
When she got to the gym, Luke was waiting for her by the front desk, like he so often was when they ran these short, early-morning runs. She stowed her things in her locker, then joined him.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and followed him out the door. They stretched and set off at a steady pace. For a while there was nothing but easy breathing and the sound of footsteps between them. Lydia looked ahead, setting her gaze on the end of the street, watching cars and cyclists flash by them.
“You look stressed,” Luke said, cutting through the silence about halfway through their run.
“What do you mean?” She mentally ran through her running form, dropping her shoulders and relaxing her hands the way he had taught her.
“You have a line between your brows. It’s been there since you walked in the door this morning.”
Lydia laughed. “Telling a woman she has wrinkles is not a wise thing to do before she’s properly caffeinated. I need at least two cups, and I’ve only had one.”
“You’re deflecting.”
Lydia pursed her lips, trying to put her thoughts in order. Trying to settle on the real reason she’d been up with the sun this morning. “I’m not deflecting. I’m just worried about my youth center proposal.”
“I thought you said you were almost done.”
“I am. It is,” she said. “At least, I think so.”
“What does that mean?”
She sighed, though she felt impressed at her ability to carry on this conversation while running. Weeks ago she would have been gasping, trying to get the words out. “I just feel like I’m at the point where I keep adding to it because I’m worried it’s not...the best it can be.”
“And is adding to it making it better?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted as they turned back toward the gym. “I think I just put so much pressure on myself with this project that I’m afraid of the judgment from the leadership team and from Marco. What if they don’t think it’s good enough?” She knew it was a possibility, of course. She just wanted to be sure that she submitted her best work. That she was satisfied with the quality, even if it wasn’t the project chosen to represent Poletti’s in the end. “But now I’m also worried I’m just making it worse at this point with all these little tweaks and changes I’m doing.”
“Sounds to me like you have to just let it go.”
“Gee, thanks. Are you gonna charge me for that bit of wisdom?”
Luke laughed. “Sometimes you just have to jump the hurdle.”
“A running metaphor. Should have seen that coming,” Lydia muttered.
“Hey, I’ve got a running metaphor for every occasion. But seriously, when you’re training hurdles, you do it over and over again until it becomes muscle memory. Until you think it’s perfect, that you’ll clear the hurdle every time. But the truth is, you don’t know if you’re gonna make it until you’re in the air. Until you jump.”
“So you’re saying I have to jump some hurdles.”
He laughed as the gym came into view. They slowed, lingering outside the door. “What I’m saying is that no amount of tweaking is going to change the brilliant design that’s already there, so if you think you’ve thrown everything you have at the project, then you have to trust your training and your prep work, and jump, hoping everything pays off.”
Lydia hummed in the back of her throat. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of just handing over her design and hoping for the best. She wanted a more concrete sign that it was ready. That it was good enough. That she was going to clear the hurdle or whatever. But maybe Luke was right, maybe there would be no concrete sign. She just had to go for it.
“Look,” Luke said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “If your design is half as good as everything you’ve been telling me, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Lydia nodded, a lump caught in her throat as emotion bubbled in her chest. Sometimes Luke said exactly the right thing, even if it was coated in running metaphors. Why was she so afraid? She’d done her research. She’d talked to the kids. She couldn’t possibly have prepared herself any better than that. “Thanks, Luke.”
He grinned. “The running metaphor strikes again.”
“All right, I’ll give you that one,” she said, humoring him as she slipped into the building to shower and change for work.
A flutter of excitement washed through her as she got closer to Poletti’s. With Luke’s support, she’d come to the conclusion before she left the gym that she was going to do it—she was going to hand in her proposal. It was ready. She was ready. So when Lydia reached her office, the first thing she did was send the entire document to the printer.
Kirsten barged into her office a moment later, closing the door behind her. “In case anyone is wondering, you saw me going downstairs to get supplies and you have no idea when I’ll return.”
Lydia smirked. “Are you hiding?”
“The Marshalls just walked in.”
“Ah,” Lydia said. Mr. Marshall owned a string of high-end residential buildings in Midtown. He’d been working with Poletti’s since before Lydia had even been employed, and was both one of their biggest and wealthiest contracts. He never stopped talking, and he also flirted openly with Kirsten despite her lack of interest and his wife’s constant presence on his arm.
“Jack took them off my hands,” Kirsten said.
“Jack’s great like that.” Lydia scanned her emails quickly. “Did you see this email from the outreach team?”
“The lovely office jog to get our blood pumping?” Kirsten asked, grimacing.
“It’s marathon prep,” Lydia said.
“I’m not running the marathon! I don’t know why I have to get sweaty in the middle of the workday.”
“Because you love me.”
“I will fundraise your money, but I draw the line at needing to shower after lunch.”
“Maybe we’ll get a short day out of it.” Lydia left Kirsten and headed down to the copy room. She found her document sitting in the paper tray and flipped through it to make sure everything had printed properly—the last thing she wanted was weird ink smudges cluttering up her design. Pride swelled in her chest like a balloon as she got to the end of the document. Dare she say that she was hopeful about her chances of being selected to represent Poletti’s in the competition? Maybe Luke and his weird metaphors were paying off.
“That’s the smile of someone who just figured out that the printer will also staple your pages together if you push the right buttons.”
Lydia chuckled as Jack darted into the room. “Is that what you discovered this week?” Jack held his finger to his lips, and Lydia tried not to let herself study those lips. The fullness. The way they curved when he was teasing. How smooth they looked.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t let Marco hear you say that. I’ve just convinced this place that I know what I’m doing.”
He winked at her, and Lydia’s fingertips suddenly felt numb where they clutched her proposal. A couple months ago, she wasn’t even sure he knew who she was. Joining the marathon team had changed everything. It had made them... Friends might be too strong a word, but acquaintances wasn’t right either. She didn’t know the word for someone who teased her one moment and bought her gifts the next—even if it was just a training water bottle. Someone who understood how hard she had to work for this career that was both creative and specialized, that would demand her time and her passion as she competed to reach a place that satisfied her professionally. Part of her felt like she’d never have to explain that feeling to Jack, and for that reason alone, he felt familiar.
“It’ll be our little secret,” she said, drawing an X over her heart. “I thought you were supposed to be dealing with the Marshalls?”
Jack’s nose wrinkled. “I might have given them the slip at Erik’s office.”
Lydia huffed. “That means Erik’s going to dump them on me next.”
“Not if you don’t go back to your office.”
Lydia raised a pointed brow at him.
“Hey, I rescued Kirsten. I think I deserve some credit.”
“So, we’re just playing client hot potato now?”
“Pretty much.”
Lydia went to stick her head out the door to see if the hallway was clear, but Jack grabbed her at the last second, hauling her back into the room. He closed the door quickly. “What are we doing?” Lydia whispered, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Jack left his arms around her and she flushed from head to toe.
Jack inclined his head, and Lydia studied the strength of his jaw until she heard the voices. One was Erik. The other had to be Mr. Marshall. “We’ll just take a look and see if Marco’s in yet.”
“He’s going to dump him on the boss. This is why Erik’s smarter than all of us,” Jack said, releasing her to peek out the door. Lydia didn’t know if she was chilled or flushed or about to collapse. “I think we’re in the clear.” Jack left the door open. “If they weren’t such big clients, I’m pretty sure Marco would have let Kirsten tell Mr. Marshall exactly where to shove it by now.”
“She might still do that if he’s not careful.”
“So, what do you have there anyway?” Jack asked, nodding to the stack of papers in her hand.
Lydia remembered why she was in this room in the first place. “My proposal for the youth center. Just looking for leadership’s stamp of approval and then hopefully off to Marco.”
“Oh, excellent.” He held his hand out for the papers. “I can pass it off to the rest of the leadership team if you want.”
Lydia handed it over. He glanced through the first couple of pages, and Lydia suddenly felt like her guts had turned inside out.
“I’m really excited to get into the details,” Jack said. “I’m glad you stuck with your original design.”
That bead of pride bloomed in her chest once more, making her feel giddy.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, tucking her proposal under his arm.
She didn’t realize she was staring until Erik appeared at her shoulder. “We love to watch them walk away, don’t we?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lydia almost snapped.
“Please, I’ve been at this game a lot longer than you. I can practically feel the tension.”
Lydia buzzed her lips together. “You’re the worst supervisor.”
“I’m your favorite and you know it. That’s why you agreed to come host the booth at the Future Architects of New York mixer next month.”
“When did I agree to that?”
“Right now?”
Lydia threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Ugh, fine.”
“It’s okay,” Erik said, flashing her a wicked grin. “I know you’re only doing it to buy my silence.”
“Kind of frosty in here...” Lydia said lightly, arranging cheese and crackers on a plate at Ashley’s kitchen counter. When she’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, Kurt had said hello and promptly walked off to his office, claiming he had work to do. It was probably true—human rights lawyers always have work to do—but Lydia could also tell she’d arrived in the middle of a fight.
“Hmm?” Ashley said. “I can turn the AC down.”
“You know I’m not talking about the AC.”
“Tell me about the love triangle you’re in.”
“What a lawyerly deflection,” Lydia replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m not in a love triangle. Luke is my trainer slash friend whom I accidentally slept with once. And Jack is my crush whom I’m definitely not sleeping with. Simple as that. Now, back to you and your drama. Why didn’t you text me not to come if you guys were in the middle of something?”
“Because I hardly get to see you anymore since you started all this training. And we’re not in the middle of anything,” Ashley said, popping the wine cork with way more force than necessary.
Lydia scoffed. “Yeah, right. This sort of feels like the kind of thing that doesn’t need an audience.”
Ashley put the wine bottle down, staring at the empty glasses in front of her. She sighed. “It’s just wedding stuff.”
“I thought you were making progress. You know, autumn. Maybe nail down an actual date, book a venue.”
“That’s what I thought too, but then Kurt’s parents decided they didn’t like autumn, so Kurt’s second-guessing. Then I called Mom to complain and she actually agreed with them.”
Lydia grumbled. She was going to have to text their mother and tell her to stop interfering. “So when do they want to have your wedding?”
“Mom wants summer, and Kurt’s parents want spring. When it’s rainy and chilly and gross. And no, I don’t care that rain is good luck. I just... I don’t know what to do anymore or how to make everyone happy, and what little free time we have turns into arguments about it.” Ashley’s voice grew thick. “We’ve waited so long, you know. Did everything right to set ourselves up for success. And now it feels like one stupid obstacle after another. Like maybe this isn’t supposed to happen for us. I feel like we’re stuck, trying to make this real. And I know you don’t have to be married to be a family. I know that. I just... I want this so much.”
“Hey,” Lydia said gently as Ashley wiped tears from her cheeks. She reached for her shoulder and squeezed. “Everything’s gonna work out.”
When Lydia looked up, Kurt was standing in the hall, his face crumpled in concern. Lydia cocked her head, putting her maid of honor skills to good use. Kurt immediately crossed the living room, pulling Ashley into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m just frustrated,” Ashley muttered against his chest.
Lydia stuffed cheese into her mouth. “Good. Keep it coming.”
“I know we’re trying to keep the families happy,” Ashley said, stepping back to lean against the other counter. “I just don’t know where that leaves us in the middle of everything.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Kurt sighed. “I think waiting this long worked against us. My mom has all sorts of expectations that I’m trying to live up to now and your mom’s basically egging her on.”
“You do know that you’re the ones making this life together?” Lydia cut in. “They might be disappointed with your decisions, but everyone will learn to live with them or they won’t. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it’s one day. This feels like a lot of upset feelings between the two people who are supposed to be vowing all this lovey-dovey crap.”
Kurt snorted. “‘Lovey-dovey crap?’”
“You know what I mean,” Lydia said, catching the cracker that flew out of her mouth.
Ashley started laughing, and once she did, she couldn’t stop. Kurt did too. Lydia poured them each a glass of wine. “Leave it to the chronically single sister to sort out everyone’s love life.”
“You’re single by choice,” Ashley said. “You just like to string along your options.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about this triangle,” Kurt said, grinning.
“It’s not a triangle,” Lydia insisted. She’d know if she were in the middle of a love triangle.