Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Three
Elliot
“Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.” ― Sarah Dessen
“It will be fine,”I tell myself when I reach California Street.
“You got this, McFee.”
The traffic was start-and-stop during my ride to the financial district. Sirens screamed as the ambulances rushed to attend to the accidents along the highway. Several cars remained stranded in the streets just like my body. The tension in my gut increases with every second that passes. At this pace, I will not make it to my eleven thirty meeting. Instead of waiting for the lines of vehicles to move, I take the next exit and drive through the backstreets.
My heart thunders against my rib cage as I arrive at my destination. Though talking to the client about their needs, showing them my designs, and building their dreams is easy, the pit of my stomach drops each time I make a presentation. Today isn’t any different. Waterfront Property Management is looking to renovate their old buildings.
“This is another step closer to success,” I mumble as my eyes roam the underground parking lot searching for a spot.
Luckily, I find a vacant place. I park and turn off the engine, exhaling twice as I reach for the cupholder where my wedding band lays.
It’s ironic that this piece of metal is one of the keys to getting a job. Being married shows my potential clients I’m reliable, stable, and won’t mess around with their employees or significant others. I’m glad they never ask about the missus because I don’t know how my ex-wife is doing. It’s been years since I last saw her. Though the sweet irony of the act never fails to make me laugh like a maniac. I didn’t wear this ring until after I divorced the love of my life.
Time and distance should’ve erased the gut-wrenching feeling I get when I think about her.
Hazel.
Some days, the memories seem to have happened so long ago, I barely remember her floral scent. On others, like today, I suffocate from the aroma. Running a hand through my hair, I try to concentrate on the matter at hand. I have to stop thinking about Hazel and wipe her from my mind forever. I work hard every day to make my family proud. Each new project, every dollar I earn, is another step to support the family Dad left behind. Also, it’s to show her that I’m capable of achieving my goals. That if she had stuck around, we would’ve had the future we planned.
Would she even care to learn who I’ve become?
“Why do you still care about her opinion, McFee?” I hit the steering wheel, frustrated by my pitiful attitude and the memories that threaten to suck me into the void.
I’m a pathetic loser, still hung up on the first and only woman I fell in love with. Days like today, I close my eyes and feel her presence—so close I can almost touch her. But reality brings me back to life. She’s never coming back here. I take a deep breath, holding it for a count of five, then let it out as I pick up my computer bag from the passenger seat.
I climb out of my car and forget about my past. Today is one of the most important days in the history of my company. Landing this contract with Waterfront Property Management guarantees at least three years of steady income. All of my energy and attention should be focused on winning the bid. I’m not letting my past or the memories ruin the future of North Bay Construction.
The revolving door leads into the lobby. The marble floors glisten, and so does the long glass-top desk. Exquisite modern paintings hang from the granite walls. One of the security guards behind it nods when I greet them. The other stares at me for several seconds.
“Where to, sir?” the friendly one asks.
“Waterfront Property Management.”
“Please sign in. May I see your ID?” He places a pen on top of a log and pushes it toward me.
I scribble my name after I hand him my identification.
With a smile, he checks my license, then hands it back with a visitor’s badge. “Third floor, to your left.”
I walk to the elevator bank. As the doors open to the third level, I’m surprised by the classy elegance of the floor. Unlike the modern touches from the lobby, the reception area is different. Wood-crafted walls with elegant molding and decorated with a few framed black and white photographs of the landscapes of San Francisco.
“Welcome to Waterfront Property Management,” the receptionist greets me. “How can I help you?”
“Elliot McFee with North Bay Construction.” I check my watch then look back at her.
She checks a spreadsheet, highlights the name of the company, and turns her attention toward me. “They should be ready for you soon.”
She rotates slightly toward her left. “Through that direction, past the sliding doors, and take a right. The conference room is the first door on your left.”
“Thank you,” I reply, glancing in that direction.
I swallow slowly, taking a deep breath before turning toward the doors. Following her instructions, I find the conference room. The door is open. Guessing it’s okay to enter since my appointment is in less than five minutes, I take a step inside. But I halt right at the threshold and suck in a breath at the sight.
Suddenly, I forget how to breathe as I lay eyes on the most beautiful girl in the world.
Except she’s no longer a girl. She’s a grown woman wearing a short black dress that molds to her curves. Her long, toned legs seem to go on forever, and she sports a pair of fuckable shoes. My dick twitches as my soul awakens from the long hibernation.
Stop.
Keep those thoughts to yourself, McFee. She’s no longer your wife. She’s a stranger. She’s not yours.
Everyone thinks I’m over her. Even I did, outside of the quiet moments that sneak up on me. But it was all a lie. I know because I can’t bear to take my eyes away from her. My pulse spikes, but my entire body freezes. Every feeling I’ve ever felt for her rushes back to me like the rains in April that give way to spring. My heart pounds in my chest in an unsteady free fall. She’s here.
Fuck.
I’m angry she’s here.
Yet I’m relieved to see her once again.
Mostly, I’m confused by the turmoil of emotions that her presence provokes. My lungs are about to collapse, so I take another deep breath. My hands clench into tight fists. Why is she here? My life is still a mess. Through it’s better than it was before. It’s been more than ten years since she left for college. Ten years since the lies began.
It was one lie.
We married the day she turned eighteen and chose not to tell anyone.
Then there were two.
Dad died, and I had to get a second job. I just didn’t tell her doing what.
Then one day I woke up alone, confused, and tangled in a web of lies I fabricated. I was incapable of differentiating reality from the fantasy I created. It wasn’t drugs or illicit vices, but the combination of lies, bourbon, and my fucking broken heart. It all happened after that one big lie. One wrong move, a mistake that ruined my entire world.
“Our world,” I mumble as I stare at her.
I study Hazel. Focusing on her delicate facial features. She stands across the room, smiling as she listens to a bald, middle-aged man in front of her. After all these years, she looks almost the same. Certainly, she’s no longer the teenager who left me. She has the poise of a businesswoman. But why is she here?
A few seconds pass, but they feel like minutes as I rotate my neck, watching and waiting for someone to jump out of hiding and say, “The joke’s on you.” A sense of dread rolls in the pit of my stomach. Hazel seems to be the one in charge of the meeting. I close my eyes briefly, calming myself. Everything will be all right.
Will it?
“North Bay Construction?” Hazel calls out.
Her voice is the same, yet different. It’s somber, mature, but I can hear the sweet tone I craved whenever she was around.
“Good morning.” I nod at her.
“Elliot?” She frowns, taking a small step backward as I saunter close to her.
“North Bay Construction,” I announce, clearing my throat. I hand her my business card.
She looks at the card, releasing a humorless chuckle. “You’re Kyle’s highly recommended guy, aren’t you?”
“I guess. He didn’t tell me much about the company. He handles the admin research, and I focus on the structures,” I counter, studying her.
She’s tense. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but her fine facial features are rigid. I wonder if she has the same desire to run like I do. Or perhaps my presence doesn’t affect her.
“He provided the general information,” I explain, staring at her neutral face.
My mouth dries, and my pulse races. I wish time would speed up, so I can flee the scene. I lick my lips, taking a calming breath. At this pace, I’ll have a heart attack before I finish my presentation. Like a desperate man using his lifeline, I begin my speech.
“All the buildings need more than a facelift,” I indicate, searching inside my briefcase for the folders I prepared.
I hand her one and place the rest on the table next to me. “There’s structural damage too.”
Opening my copy, I focus on the pictures and remembering every piece of information I memorized. I describe what I did for the past week, my findings, and the conclusions I came up with. I take her page by page through what the buildings need and what I recommend they implement. Then I tell them more about my company—our work ethics, our energy efficiency standards, the suppliers I use, and how my timelines work.
“On page seventeen is the quote. I broke down the cost per building, in stages, and the new amenities I suggested for each unit.”
Taking a deep breath, I lift my gaze and look at her. She’s staring at the folder, biting her full lower lip. For a moment, I study her carefully. Her delicate face, those big hazel eyes, and her luscious mouth that parts as her gaze skims over the papers. And I wish she was looking at me with the same intensity and touching me with her delicate hands. I draw in a breath, pushing away the desire to kiss her until I fill the void inside my heart. I envision her lips, her body. I wish I could press her against the wall and satiate the starving man who has prayed to see the love of his life at least one more time.
“Kyle mentioned you’re looking for a property management company to maintain the units. We do that too. This is a brand-new division. We only have two clients, but you can call them for references. You can find the cost of our services and 3D blueprints in the SD/business card attached to the front. We can start immediately.”
I breathe out as I finish the short version of my presentation. Hazel’s eyes remain on the papers. She searches for the card I described and pulls it out of the front pocket.
She lifts her chin, and her eyes look empty, guarded. “Thank you for coming.”
That’s it?
She’s not interested in me and ready to dismiss my company. If only I could understand what’s going on inside her head. My heart used to know everything about her. The meaning of each frown, smile, and lip bite.
“Do you have questions I can answer before I leave?”
I train my eyes to the floor, waiting for her rejection, but she’s silent. My eyes wander to her feet, taking in her shapely calves, legs, and her beautiful body. They stop right as I find her gaze staring at the folder I handed her. She hasn’t kicked me out yet. I loosen my tie slightly as I wait for her response. Maybe she’s about to throw a few insults my way and call security.
Please, don’t shut me down. For once, listen to what I have to say.
This scene is so fucking familiar. I’m begging her to stay, to reason with me. There’s an explanation. We can find solutions to her problems.
“We can customize our services to your needs,” I offer.
“I’ll add that to the file.” Her tone is so cold, my body shivers with her disdain.
“Do you have any questions?”
“I have none,” she says, elaborating no further.
My stomach drops to the floor with her rejection.
She takes a pen, scribbles something, and closes the folder. Then she sets it on top of the pile in front of her.
I lost the bid like I lost her.
We never stood a chance. Fucking Kyle. I grind my teeth, angry with him, with myself for trusting him. Why did he send me?
Inhaling and exhaling, she utters the most cliché words I’ve ever heard. “We’ll call you if we choose your company.”
“That’s it?” I squeeze my fist, maintaining my voice in a neutral tone.
“Your information is easy to digest,” she speaks, her gaze fixed on my left hand.
Fuck, I forgot to take off the ring when I saw her. Shit. Hazel flinches before moving her gaze to the back of the room.
“Mr. Everhart, if you want to go through the legal stuff before he leaves. I need to run to my office.”
“We have everything we need,” says a guy I hadn’t notice before.
He stands in the other corner of the room, leaning against the wall. As Hazel exits, he walks toward me. He’s around my age, an inch or two shorter than my six foot four, and has light brown hair.
“I’ll call you if it’s necessary.” His eyes study me, and his jaw tightens. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, it was a pleasure.” I exit the conference room and turn to the elevators.
Today, I’m the same loser who couldn’t save his marriage. I need to remind myself that I’m not that kid. I have a successful business. From the corner of my eye, I spot her staring at the big window that faces the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean. Her feet bare, her arms extended to the sides.
What is she thinking?
