Page 22 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

He’s been known to play by his own set of rules anyways, so why shouldn’t I?

The public forum made it abundantly clear that I am out of my depth with this project.

I’ve helped design modern, fancy high rises, but I’ve never done anything like this.

And the suggestions the town had threw me for a loop.

I realized how long it’s been since I’ve been back in Heartwood, how out of touch I’ve become.

When Poppy told me about the redesign Spencer did for Grady, how she transformed Jack’s, and how much everyone has raved about it, it felt like a miracle. Like I might have a chance with her help.

“I need to win this. If I don’t, then Brody will get the principal engineer position over me, and I’m sick of being passed over by men for jobs that I deserve,” I explain, and I shudder at the mere thought of going back into the office.

Brody will gloat. I’ll be a failure. No one at work will look at me the same again.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Ally says. I go inside to where I left my sketchbook on the counter.

I spent the morning sketching, filling up the blank pages at the back with random drawings.

My lines are getting smoother, the pencil feeling natural in my hand like it once did.

I didn’t draw anything groundbreaking, but for the first time since I came back to Heartwood, my mind was still, quiet.

When I pick it up, I remember the drawings of Hudson I left tucked inside.

I still haven’t had to use them to take out my anger, so I haven’t doodled vampire teeth on him or anything yet.

They look like regular drawings of someone I once loved.

They’re my heart on paper. Carefully, I remove the loose ones and tuck them in a kitchen drawer where no one will find them.

The girls are waiting expectantly and gather around the sketchbook when I open it to the page with my design. They’re quiet as they examine it. Spencer cocks her head, assessing it from a different angle.

After an excruciating minute of silence, Poppy looks up at me with a bright smile on her face.

“Wren, it’s so fancy! It’s beautiful.”

Ally glances up then, too, also with a smile, but a forced one.

“It’s uh … it’s a great design. Structurally. Very architectural.”

Spencer is still examining it, and when she finally looks up, her face is screwed into a grimace.

“Sorry, Wren. This kind of sucks.” Okay, we’re going with harsh honesty. “I mean, it doesn’t suck for an arts centre in Vancouver or something, but for Heartwood … I don’t think anyone will go for it.”

Anxiety and dread lick up my spine, and I suck in a sharp breath, the air not reaching the base of my lungs. My chest tightens and I snatch the book back, looking at my drawing again with this new perspective.

It’s all clean lines and angles, a lot of glass and concrete. It’s sculptural, but plain enough to showcase the art being created inside. I thought it was perfect. My boss did, too, the concept at least. Rick thought it was a great idea when I outlined my idea to him over the phone the other day.

“Why do you say that?” I ask, my eyes widening. I’m unable to hide my shock at their reaction. My voice shakes with the panic rising in my throat.

“People here are going to want something more down-to-earth. Something that feels cozy, eclectic. Something colourful and vibrant,” Spencer explains.

Walls slide into place around me in response to the sharp jab of criticism needling my chest. This design is good .

Rick told me it was good. How would Spencer know anything about architectural design?

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Wren, but I have to agree with Spence on this one,” Ally says, driving the knife in further. “I don’t think it’s going to appeal to the town. And if you’re putting it up to a vote then …”

“I’m going to lose,” I finish for her, given she’s not willing to say it. I consider what they’ve said for a moment, looking back down at the design.

As much as I hate admitting I might be wrong, that my design missed the mark, I hate losing more.

“Fuck.” I sit down at the table, my shoulders slumping. I feel the same comforting hand on my shoulder that Ally offered Spencer earlier.

“It’s okay.” I look up at her, and her turquoise eyes are sparkling back at me. “That’s why we’re here. We’ll come up with something better.”

I’m reassured by her words, and when I nod in acknowledgement, the girls throw themselves into brainstorming wholeheartedly.

We sit there for the better part of an hour, throwing out ideas for the arts centre, and by the end of it, I’m optimistic about the direction this is going in. The only thing I’m unsure of is how Rick will react to it. It might win over the town, but will it win him over? I’m not so sure.

The three of them are chattering away and laughing about the suggestions from the public forum, I jotted down on the back of my design drawing.

I catch myself laughing, uninhibited with them, and a lightness settles over me that I haven’t felt in a long time.

Unadulterated joy. Sleepover laughter. I’m revelling over how full my chest feels when my phone lights up on the table next to me.

Poppy’s eyes also flick down to it from where she’s sitting across from me, then back up to mine.

She lifts an eyebrow knowingly as the name scrolls across the screen.

We both know who it is. Hudson’s texted me, and it doesn’t get past me that we’ve now officially upgraded from e-mailing each other.

I guess I was the one that initiated contact over text instead. I didn’t even think about it.

Over the last ten years, that’s what I missed the most. Having him there. His unwavering presence. Without it … well, I realized how much I lacked without him. How lonely I was .

I pick up my phone and read the message, tuning out whatever the girls have started talking about.

EX (DO NOT TEXT)

I thought I’d see you at the reunion tonight.

My mind spins at the message. First, at trying to figure out what reunion he’s talking about, and second, that it almost seems like he was hoping to see me.

The way Spencer and Ally talked about Hudson, it seems obvious to everyone that he’s still hung up on me.

His lack of serious relationships over the years.

The way he peered into my eyes yesterday, the emotion in his watery blue eyes.

The way my heart rolled forward in my chest as if trying to get closer to him.

I don’t know how to reply so I don’t seem too eager or interested. All I send back is a short, one-word message.

Reunion?

The dots indicating he’s typing a response pop up almost immediately, like he was waiting for my text.

Yeah. The Heartwood High ten-year reunion. It’s tonight. I thought Poppy would have told you. Seems like something you’d be into.

Then you don’t remember high school like I do. I only had two friends, you and Poppy.

Idk. I thought you might like to come and brag about your achievements or something

Fuck off.

“Pops, do you know anything about this reunion?” I show her the string of texts between Hudson and I, and she looks up at me blandly.

“I did, yeah. I wasn’t going to go, though,” she says with a shrug.

“Wait, what reunion?” Ally cuts in.

“Our ten-year high school reunion,” I answer, and Ally and Spencer make similar disgusted faces.

“Oh, I hate that kind of thing,” Spencer says. “But I hate making small talk with people I haven’t spoken to in years. Keeping in touch with old acquaintances isn’t my thing.”

“I don’t know,” I say, “It could be fun.”

Poppy raises both eyebrows over the frames of her sunglasses.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d care, since we didn’t have many friends in high school. Those things are just for the popular kids to get together and relive their glory days.”

“We could crash it.” I don’t know why I’m so adamant about going, but I’ve suddenly developed an interest. I don’t want to consider that it might have something to do with knowing Hudson is there.

“Now, crashing it, I’d be into,” Spencer says. I take her interest as a yes that we’re all in, and tell them it’s settled. We’re crashing the reunion.

Details?

It only takes a couple of minutes to get a reply.

It’s at the high school, 80s prom theme. Wear your worst dress, the tackier the better. Everyone is dressed up.

“We’ll need costumes,” I say, and receive a chorus of groans from all three women. “Let’s go raid my mom’s closet.”

My mother’s closet is a treasure trove of vintage clothes.

She’s kept everything over the years, and right now, I love her for it.

She has everything from her old bell-bottom jeans to tacky dresses to classic pieces I make a note to ask her to borrow.

Today, I’m looking for anything with a bright puffy sleeve, and I find four dresses that work.

They’re all gaudy jewel-toned monstrosities that are perfect for an ’80s prom theme.

I dole them out between us, and as much as the girls complained about my plan initially, they’ve gotten into the idea now, giggling and squealing as they try on the dresses.

We all run through the hall and crowd around the mirror in the bathroom where I keep my hair tools and makeup.

A bit of blue eyeshadow and a lot of teasing later, we look equal parts hideous and amazing.

The school parking lot is busy when we roll up, and I find what seems like the last spot to park the Audi.

We all climb out and approach the main entrance which has been decorated with blue and silver balloons forming an arch way.

A sign reads Class of ’15 Reunion with an arrow pointing through the doors towards the gymnasium.

“Ready to crash a high school reunion, ladies?”

Spencer responds with an “Ow owww!”

Okay, so maybe she’s had a little too much sangria in the sunshine. That may have impacted her decision to participate. Ally isn’t as excited as Spencer is, nor as wasted, and I get the feeling she’s only here to keep Spencer out of trouble.

Arm in arm, the four of us enter the high school, file into the gymnasium, and take a look around at everyone who is dressed …

very normally. No one is wearing a tacky suit or a poofy dress.

It’s verging on business casual. Some gazes catch on us standing at the door, and a whispers ripple through the crowd.

Before long, all eyes are on us, and a nervous laugh bubbles up my throat.

As people turn back around, returning to their conversations, a gap in the throng opens and I lock eyes with Hudson, looking a little too smug, a little too amused.

“Well, this is humiliating,” Ally says, and Spencer lets out a little hiccup beside her.

I unwind my arms from theirs and march off with purpose towards the only person who is childish enough to pull something like this.