Love By Design

Chapter 46

Over the next few days, the buzz for the articles about the collaboration continued.

Mahalia Made has been at the forefront of the news, inundated with tags, comments, and shares. Even though the regalwear collection isn’t due for an official public showcase until the beginning of next year for Men’s Fashion Week in January, publications were eager for the latest story and emails from different media outlets asking for an interview with me overwhelmed my inbox.

Receiving correspondence about future collaborations from the Royal Communications of Toussaint also took me by surprise and I wondered if Gigi mentioned anything to Tobias about me leaving Holmes.

New and exciting opportunities have started popping up and they feel right. For both the brand and the business. I feel inspired, with a renewed sense of purpose, and also reconnected with Designing in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time.

I find myself completely restless.

But in the best ways possible.

Similarly, the house became progressively rowdier as my uncles and their families all travelled to Interlaken.

“Everyone’s visiting,” I share on the phone to Gigi, hoping I don’t sound as anxious as I feel.

It’s always been tradition to spend Christmas in Switzerland so it comes as no surprise that family would be coming over but I haven’t been to a single gathering in years and I’m not sure how to act.

The incident of Christmas from four years ago is a dark cloud hanging over my mind.

“Even your uncle?” Gigi asks sourly.

“He’s coming tomorrow with Aunt Luisa,” I answer.

The severity of the incident was something that I downplayed, even when I came back to London with my left hand bandaged up. Stitches that curved from the back to the palm of my hand accompanied by a splint for my fingers due to metacarpal fractures was something that everyone dismissed as a skiing accident.

Even though I have never attempted to ski in my life.

I didn’t tell anyone, not even Gigi. We weren’t close at the time and I didn’t know anyone well enough during first year.

Only Rowan found out when I had to take over a month off from work at Tito Boy’s because my hand needed to heal and I had to catch up with uni work. Initially, I wanted to quit but he sat me down and asked about it so I ended up divulging the details of what had happened.

Gigi only discovered the full extent of it during second year when we spent the entire Christmas break working on our uni work together. I didn’t end up going home for the holidays and neither did Gigi, that’s when I found out that her relationship with her family is a little rocky too. Instead, she worked on her assignments whilst I focused on my coursework and we bonded over fashion trends and family traumas.

“How are you feeling?” She asks.

“Antsy,” I reply.

It will be the first time I’ll be seeing everyone again since that incident and I can feel the anxiousness in my chest brewing so I kept myself busy physically to prevent myself from being overwhelmed, mentally and emotionally.

So far, I’ve knitted two oversized jumpers with hand-embroidered hearts on the sleeves in different shades of grey, the colour reminding me of a certain platinum-haired nepo baby.

“Has Prince Tobias mentioned anything about August?” I ask.

“No…” Gigi replies. “Should he have?”

“Ah, it’s fine, I just thought…” I trail off. “I called him a couple of days ago but he hasn’t responded.”

“He’s probably busy,” Gigi clears her throat. “Tobias did mention that August has been nonstop with work in New York.”

I nod, although Gigi can’t see me, and I try not to dwell on the rejection that nestled itself between my ribs.

“Lia!”

My grandma’s voice calls out from downstairs.

“I have to go, Gigi.” I exhale nervously. “I think my family are here.”

“You’ve got this, Hals.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Speak soon.”

I end the call, inhaling slowly.

Now or never.

Releasing a breath, I exit my bedroom and walk out into the hallway, the telltale sound of raucous conversations between my family resounds in the living room as I walk down the stairs.

“That snowstorm is relentless.”

“It’s going to get worse over the next few days.”

“Remy and Luisa’s flights keep getting delayed.”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs, the amount of people suddenly within my range a little overwhelming. The chattering is constant as everyone fusses over the weather and transport and I feel a little discombobulated just watching.

“Ate Lili!” A little girl runs up to me. “Do you know who I am?”

I blink at the dark-haired, brown-eyed five-year-old with two front teeth missing beaming up at me.

“Dayna?” I ask, briefly remembering the barely walking one-year-old in diapers, all those years ago.

“Lola says you make pretty dresses,” She smiles brightly. “Can you make me one?”

I look over at my grandma who gives me a wink.

“I’ve been making clothes for boys, at the moment,” I say, crouching down to her level. “But I can definitely make a pretty dress for you.”

She grins. “My favourite colour is pink.”

“Me too,” I smile at her.

More and more people begin shuffling into the living room, the familiar faces of my cousins coming into view.

“Dayna, don’t be bothering Ate Lia.”

“Hi Russ.”

“Hi, Ate.” He gives me a nod, ushering Dayna away. “Sorry, she’s really hyperactive.”

Out of all the cousins, Russ is closest to my age. I’m only a couple of months older but he still calls me the honorific for older sister.

“That’s okay.” I shake my head. “How’s… fourth year?”

“I’m doing a placement year,” He informs me. “But yeah, technically fourth year. Medicine is a ballache. How’s London?”

“Good, yes.” I nod.

“Russ, Papa said to get our bags in the car.” Alexa approaches us. “Hi, Ate Lia.”

“Hi Lex,” I give her a small smile.

“Are you still doing fashion?” She asks and I nod, not really wanting to further elaborate.

“Ate Lia said she’s going to make me a dress.” Dayna beams excitedly, tugging on Alexa’s hand.

“How’s college?”

“Sixth form,” She replies. “It’s good, just revising a lot. Exams in January.”

There’s a pause between us as she fidgets on the spot.

“I wanted to ask you about something.” Alexa clears her throat, voice quiet.

She looks a little skeptical, as if she’s contemplating her words.

“Will you be able to write me a reference?” Her voice is even quieter at the request.

My brows furrow and I strain my ear to confirm that I heard her correctly.

“A reference?” I repeat.

She nods.

“Are you sure I’m the right person for that?” I ask, uncertain. “I don’t know much about Law to write you a reference that would be considered as–”

“Not for law,” Alexa cuts me off, carefully. “For an art course. I’m applying for art schools in London.”

I blink, remembering Alexa from my teenage years. Nose in sketchbooks, always drawing and always painting. Pencil in her hair, graphite smudges, paint splatters on her clothes. It’s different to the Alexa in recent years. Head full of textbook knowledge. Academic essays and homework club. Future Oxbridge student. Or maybe even Harvard.

“Does Tita and Tito know?”

There’s a flash of uncertainty in Alexa’s eyes as she shakes her head.

Despite our five-year age difference, Alexa and I had been quite similar growing up. We were a lot closer when we were younger due to our mutual love for being creative. I recall how she’d always eagerly accompany me at every family gathering, always keen to borrow my pencils and sketch with me in my room.

“Lex,” A voice calls out towards us. “Help your brother with the stuff in the car.”

“Yes, Ma.” She replies before turning to me, cautiously. “It’s okay if not. But please don’t mention anything? I might not even apply. So I don’t even know if-”

“I won’t say anything.” I interrupt her gently. “And I’ll write you a reference. Which art schools in London?”

“It’s just the one,” Alexa replies. “If I don’t get in, I’m not going to bother with anywhere else.”

She says it as an ultimatum of sorts. That’s one of the bigger differences between Alexa and I. She has other things to fall back on, whereas for me, it’s fashion design or nothing. As dramatic as it sounds.

“Which one?” I ask.

“Aston,” she answers, clearing her throat. “The one Tita Cassie went to.”

I blink at the mention of my mum but nod in understanding.

“Aston or nothing,” I affirm. “I’ve got you.”

A genuine smile appears on her face as she looks at me.

“Thanks Ate Lia.”

I mirror her smile. “Of course.”

“Alexandria!” A voice exclaims.

“Coming, Pa!”

Alexa gives me another smile before walking back outside.

The whole house erupts in a familiar, homely buzz as everyone starts settling into the living room. My aunts and uncles regard me conversationally, making small talk and light pleasantries as if the incident that happened four years ago is just a distant memory to them.

In all fairness, it probably is just an obscure recollection to everyone.

It’s likely they didn’t find it as traumatising as I did, given the fact that they weren’t the ones who ended up with a mangled hand and shattered fingers.

Lingering by the archway between the living room and the hallway, I watch as everyone chats idly between themselves— the atmosphere is pleasant, cosy.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts the comfortable conversations, prompting everyone to pause and take notice.

“Are we expecting more people?” My grandpa looks around in confusion.

“Remy and Luisa aren’t arriving until tomorrow evening.” My grandma shakes her head in response.

“Maybe it’s a delivery,” I say, turning my attention to the door. “I’ll get it.”

Bracing myself for the cold, I unlock the door and pull on the handle before blinking at the person standing in front of me.

Platinum blond hair and steely grey eyes.

“August?”