Page 53 of Structure of Love

Yeah, I had the feeling we were two peas in a pod.

17

Logan

On this fine Wednesday afternoon, I was meeting Asher at the new bar.

By fine, I meant it was stupidly hot outside, and dogs were panting even in the shade. I was thankful to have an indoor activity, for sure.

The parking lot was sort of an overflow for other nearby businesses. I didn’t mind for now, as I was still closing on the property, but I’d definitely need to post a sign or something to make it clear this parking was for the new Blackbird.The parking lot was at least a third of the reason why I’d bought the building.

I spotted Asher’s parked car, and he waited by the front door. Excellent, he was punctual. People who were chronically late roasted my nuts.

“Hi, Asher!” I hailed as I walked toward the door.

“Hi, hi.” He held a tablet in one hand, messenger bag perched on his other shoulder, visibly ready to work. “I brought a few paint sticks based off those Pinterest boards you sent me.”

“Great. I would love to nail down a few design elements today if we can.”

I’d been given the code specifically to let Asher in today, per my real estate agent, so I hummed a little ditty and let us both in.

“Sadly, all the walls are still up, ’cause I haven’t closed on anything yet.”

Asher waved this off. “I knew what I was walking into, no worries. This is pretty typical at the beginning of the project. Also, don’t feel locked in to anything we decide today. If you change your mind for some reason after demolition happens,please tell me then. Not after I’ve bought materials, or when we start painting.”

“I sense some frustration there.” I paused to close the door behind us. “That happen often?”

Asher sighed, shoulders slumping.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, I promise I won’t do that to you. Really, the Pinterest board captures my aesthetic pretty well.” I waved a hand to indicate the foyer we stood in. “Under all these false walls and old paint, there’s a cool building with history. I want to showcase those elements.”

“Oh-ho, that’s the sort of direction I need.”

“Plus, there’s something in here I really want to keep.”

I opened the door leading to the foyer, letting him into the right side where the massive wooden bar still lived. Somehow, the bar had stayed with the building through all its iterations, but I thought this bottom apartment had perhaps been a store of some sort, so the counter had been something they could use.

Asher stepped in behind me as I flicked on lights, and he let out a whistle as his head panned, taking in the space. “Wow, yeah, I can see elements lurking. And that bar is fantastic.”

“The bar stays.”

“Of course it fucking stays. Do you know how much it would cost to replace it? It does need a little TLC.” Asher moved incloser, then bent down to get a better look at the bottom area. “Some sanding, a little stain and touch-ups, and it’ll look grand. Not too much, though. I want to keep the historic look.”

“You read my mind.” I felt pleased he already understood some of my vision here. “I don’t want it to look industrial, or new age, I want to keep as many historical elements of the building as possible. I don’t want a cluttered look, either.”

Asher straightened and came back to me, flipping through his tablet for a second before standing hip to hip with me to show the screen. “So these are some mock-ups I’ve made, just knowing the size of this main room and what your Pinterest showed.”

I studied the mock-ups. Wow, he was good—damn good. This was precisely what I had in mind, with the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and masculine touches in the choice of tables and chairs. Asher had placed TV screens with care, so they weren’t cluttering up every wall, but there were about four scattered throughout the area.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling almost triumphant to see what I’d imagined captured in a single frame. “Yes, Asher, this is precisely what I wanted.”

He beamed. “What I love to hear. All right, I put a shade of green on the walls. Thoughts?”

“It’s close to what I would choose.” Not quite right, although I couldn’t seem to find the words to explain why.

“Color is a feeling thing, not a word thing.” Asher walked toward the bar, set down his tablet, then fished a huge ring of paint swatches out of his bag. He had several tagged with sticky notes, and he flipped through them like a pro before pulling out a swatch and placing it flat against the bar. “Now, come see if this sparks joy.”

I could tell from here. “Close, but not quite?”