12. Denise
Chapter twelve
Denise
T he hostess at Sunday In Brooklyn walks me and the girls to the table for Maya's Welcome Back brunch. We may have been a bit too boisterous while we waited, our screams earning us a few side eyes from passersby on the sidewalk.
"So how does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?" I tease with a snicker. Nearby patrons lean closer to eavesdrop, and Maya slaps my shoulder playfully.
"Girl, shut the fuck up," Maya says through a smirk, though there's no heat in her words.
"Three weeks is way too long to go without talking to your girls, Maya," Tiffany whines. She looks almost put out, and I try not to take it personally. Sure, we hung out while Maya was gone, but she and Maya were friends first. I'm sure she's dying to ask her about her throuple situation.
"Sorry, not sorry , Tiff," Maya swoons. "France was incredible . The weather was perfect. The beaches were beautiful. And Adam and I didn't leave the hotel room for the first three days!"
We all giggle like schoolgirls, scandalized. Maya sighs wistfully, clearly lost in a memory.
"Once we came up for air, the food was amazing too. I probably gained ten pounds on baguettes alone!"
"Well, you don't look it," Tiff says, eyeing Maya appreciatively. "You're practically glowing."
The waiter comes by with the menus, but I stop him before he can make his exit.
"Can we go ahead and get mimosas all around while we look at the menu?" I ask. The waiter nods, and I turn back to the table.
"So…," I start, mischief in my tone, "A woman usually glows when she's pregnant. Did you and Adam get a head start on building your family in Nice?"
Tiffany covers an excited gasp with her hand, but Maya crosses herself.
"Jesus! Hold your tongue! I want at least a year with him to myself before we even start talking about that . I'm pretty sure the glow you're seeing is from an excess of vitamin D," she says with a wicked smile.
We all giggle again. Hopefully the other patrons don't mind how extra we're being…not that I give a shit. It's not every day that a shipping mixup leads to a whirlwind romance and your best girlfriend getting married.
Envy itches under my skin, and I take several gulps from my mimosa as soon as it arrives. I'm perfectly happy living fancy free in these NYC streets. Why should I begrudge Maya her happiness?
Across the table, she and Tiffany are gabbing about the beach in Saint-Tropez and private wine tastings. Tiffany wasn't wrong; Maya's positively radiating love, joy, and confidence . It's like she bloomed on her honeymoon, shedding her insecurities now that she found her soulmate.
My idea of happily ever after has less to do with dick and more to do with runway shows and features in Vogue. I'm probably just wishing I could travel like she did, or for the chance to show off in front of my friends and family. Well…just my friends .
The waiter comes by and takes our orders before leaving wordlessly. Quiet waiters are so underrated; he's getting a big tip.
"Enough about me!" Maya insists, cutting into my unexpected moodiness. "How are things going with your designs for New York Fashion Week?"
This is why I love my girls. True girlfriends are always happy to share the spotlight. I bask in their attention.
"Things are going well, I think. I handed my initial sketches in last week, we'll get feedback from Mr. Maxwell, and then the chosen designs will get prototypes."
Maya is smiling from ear to ear, but Tiffany looks confused.
"I've seen signs for New York Fashion Week all over the subway. It's in, like, three weeks. But you just turned in sketches?"
I clutch my chest.
"I'm in the February show, thank goodness! If I were in the one next month and had just turned in my sketches, you would've had to book me into Blackwell's Island." At Tiffany's blank stare, I add, "The insane asylum on Roosevelt Island."
"There will be rounds of sketches and prototypes before the looks are locked. Then, they'll source the fabrics, sew the approved designs, and cast the models," Maya explains.
I nod. I sometimes forget Maya nearly joined me as an Apparel Design major at Pratt. The waiter returns with our food, and I blink in disbelief. That was fast!
"That sounds intense," Tiffany mumbles around a mouth full of hazelnut maple praline pancakes. They look almost as good as my dish, but I'm too much of a carnivore to resist steak & eggs.
"It's beyond intense. But I love it, especially since I finally get to work on extended sizes."
Maya's mouth drops.
"What?! You never told me Bailey Maxwell was doing a plus-size line!"
I'm smiling so hard now, my face is starting to hurt.
"Yup! I found out in the lead-up to the wedding. My bad for not mentioning something sooner. This'll be their first year with the new sizes. The team lead saw the custom clothes on my social media and brought me on specifically for the new line."
Maya pulls me into a tight hug, and Tiffany joins, draping herself over both our shoulders.
"That's so great, D," Maya raves. "It's about time you get to do a project for us big girls!"
"Yeah," Tiffany agrees. "I drool over your socials at least once a week."
Their praise makes my insides feel warm and mushy. Maya's been cheering me on since my first show as an intern at Pratt. Then here comes Tiffany, a new friend, but no less supportive.
"Thanks, you guys. It means a lot. It's still pretty early on, but I can't wait to see the clothes on the models."
Tiffany and Maya start to list their favorite plus-size models while I dig into my food. I'm partial to Kendra Gray, but model selection is above my pay grade. I'm just glad I finally finished those sketches. After things got a little too personal with Cory, I went home that night and worked like a madwoman. I needed to clear my head.
Why did he have to ask about the tattoo? I guess I can't blame him for being curious—it is practically right under my boob, and he was up close and personal with that area all night. But really, what's it to him? We're fuck buddies, not friends.
I got the tattoo the day of the funeral—a semicolon, a symbol someone has been impacted by suicide. I walked into the church, saw Andre's college graduation picture and Mom and Dad crying, and walked right back out. The tattoo parlor was only a few blocks away, and I just needed to do something, anything , to feel like I had some control. Like life wouldn't keep taking things I loved without asking.
I made it back for the eulogy, bleary-eyed and tipsy from whiskey I bought at the liquor store right next to the tattoo place. Even devastated over Andre, I could feel my parents' disappointment. We all grieve in our own way, Mom and Dad! I'm sorry you lost the one child you cared about.
I take another drink from my mimosa and blink back the tears that threaten to spill.
"Ashley Graham is beautiful, though! She's been my hall pass whenever I'm in a relationship," Tiffany laughs.
"But Precious Lee is goals ! I would literally kill to look like her," Maya argues. "You do look like her," she says, gesturing at me with her fork, "if you permed your hair instead of wearing braids."
" Yes, please , on looking like Precious Lee," I reply, "but no, thank you on the creamy crack. I kicked that habit in college and I'm never going back."
"Here, here!" Maya proclaims with a grin, raising her drink. She stopped perming her hair around the same time I did, though she opted for locs instead of braids. We clink our glasses together before falling out into yet another fit of giggles.
I look around the table and see incredible women. Tiffany is quickly establishing herself as a "ride or die". And Maya? She supported me when my blood relatives couldn't care less.
I think about my time with Cory, and delayed guilt overwhelms me. What kind of friend hooks up with a guy that treated her best friend like shit? And she can't be the only one. A guy like him has likely trampled on more hearts than he can count. I should know better.
That settles it. The last time with Cory was the last time . No dick is worth betraying your family.