13. Bella
Chapter thirteen
Bella
Leaving Castleton and getting back to normal life is…
Well, it just is.
Living with Ellen has been good so far, but I’ll be happy to have my own place.
I’ve never had that before. I went from living with my parents to living with a roommate, and finally to living with Steven.
“You look good,” Imogen tells me when I breeze into my first day back at work.
“Thanks.” I hand her a coffee made to her specifications. “It turns out Ellen had the right idea by dragging me away.”
Imogen grins at me. She wears a bright green wig today, which matches her eclectic fashion.
For someone who makes the most beautiful designs, she isn’t exactly a fashionista herself.
I think she does it on purpose to weed out the snobs.
“What’s on the docket today?” I ask her.
She grabs her sketchbook and passes it to me. “I need these designs to have patterns made for them. I’ve gotten an offer for a show in Moscow next month, and I’m running around like a headless chicken! I’m glad to have you back.”
“Of course.” I open up her book and flip through the pages. While she is terrific at getting things to fit on paper, Imogen has a hard time developing patterns off them.
Oh, she’s great at making patterns. Just not the ones that line up with her sketches.
She is constantly bubbling with new ideas and changes things accordingly.
“I can get on this right away,” I assure her.
Then I hesitate.
Is now the right time? I promised myself that I would take more time on my own designs. That I’d take the risk and at least find some way to improve myself.
Imogen glances at me. “Is something the matter?”
“No. There’s just something I’d like to ask you, and I’m just screwing up my courage to actually ask.” I laugh nervously at my own admission.
Imogen smiles encouragingly at me. “Do you need more time? I know that you’ve been through a lot.”
She never liked Steven. She didn’t say it aloud, but I could tell every time I talked about the wedding.
“Actually, I’m hoping that you can help me with something. To put more work on my plate overall but with an end goal that is hopefully better than what I’ve got going now.” I shake my head at myself.
I’m rambling.
When what I ought to be doing is just being direct about this.
“You know I want to be a designer myself,” I say, looking anywhere but at Imogen. “I was hoping you could take a look at them and tell me how I can improve them. Because I think I’m getting stuck in my head.”
Imogen laughed brightly. “Is that all? Of course, I’ll do that for you! Do you have them with you right now?”
I dig into my bag and pull out my sketchbook. She opens it right in front of me.
“Oh! But don’t you have work that needs to be done?” I ask nervously.
Imogen waves her hand. “It’ll get done.”
Nervously, I head to my workstation. I keep glancing over my shoulder to watch her facial expressions.
Normally, I’m good at reading my boss.
Now, though? It’s as though every twitch in her brow or movement of her lip is telling me two different stories.
She loves it.
She hates it.
After some time, she closes the book and comes over to me.
I gulp. I hadn’t gotten any work done.
“This one here.” She opens the book and puts it in front of me. “That’s what you designed for your wedding dress, yes?”
A pang hits my stomach. “Yeah.”
“So you have a prototype to share, right?” Imogen’s eyes are bright.
I chew my lip and slowly shake my head.
Her face falls, but she nods. “Ah. You cut it up when you decided not to marry?”
“No. It’s why I decided not to marry. Steven donated it without telling me,” I admit.
Imogen’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’s—I know where to hide his body.”
Her indignation on my behalf lifts another weight off me. Only another designer would know the true hurt of what he did to me.
“It’s fine. He’s not worth the risk of jail time,” I tell her.
Imogen looks doubtful but nods. “Right. So from what I’m seeing here, the next stage for you is to put it into practice. Get it off the paper and into the fabric.”
My cheeks warm. “Really? You don’t think that the designs themselves need work?”
“Undoubtedly they’ll need some adjustments, but you can’t prepare everything perfectly on paper,” she answered.
I gesture at her patterns. “Yours always seem to work.”
“You’ve gotten used to working with my designs, understanding how my pieces will fit into patterns. While the basics are the same, you need to get a feel for your own work.” Imogen sets my sketches back in front of me.
I smile in relief. Having someone else say that I can do good work certainly boosts my ego!
“Get yourself a portfolio together. I’ll see about adding a couple of your designs into my show—under your name, of course.”
My jaw drops. “Really?”
Imogen laughs. “Really! You’re a great assistant and I’ll be sad to lose you, but you were made for bigger dreams than this.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
My fingers itch to go through my designs and start the work of making patterns, but I hold myself back. I’m at work, which means I need to work.
But the first person I think of that I want to share this news with… is Aaron.
***
Two weeks go by. I’m up to my ears with work, but I’m enjoying every second of it. While I help Imogen prepare her designs for the show, I’m preparing my own to show off.
I’m going to have my work in a fashion show! Imogen has been a true champion for me. She’s even arranged for a small show here in the city, which she plans to use to introduce my work.
“But,” she told me when she revealed her plans, “I want this to be a trial run for you. I’ll keep an eye on things, but I want you to spearhead the whole thing.”
With how much work I have to do, you’d think I wouldn’t have time to think about Aaron.
But I do. I can’t stop thinking about him.
We’ve messaged a few times, and he seems excited about my show. I have been deliberately holding back, though.
It’s hard to keep up with all the changes in my life right now. It’s not fair to be too connected with him when I don’t know where this is going.
“And Imogen is inviting all the fashion influencers she knows,” I gush to Ellen one night as we cook supper together.
“Isn’t that the same night as Aaron’s charity dance, though?” she asks.
My stomach drops.
I forgot all about the dance.
“I… guess I might not go, then,” I hedge.
I’d promised Aaron I would help with that. Why hadn’t he brought it up again?
Was it because he s how busy I am?
Or is it because, like me, he’s afraid of his feelings?
That doesn’t seem like Aaron. More than likely, he’s giving me the space I asked for.
“You okay?” Ellen asks.
I nod distractedly. “I’ll just have to figure out what I need to do.”
Ellen stirs the chicken strips she’s frying. “It would be nice to see Aaron again, wouldn’t it?”
I shrug non-committedly
The truth is, it would be nice.
Too nice, perhaps.
Now that I’ve had time away from Steven, I’m starting to realize why I kept going back to him.
Because it was so easy to leave him.
Committing to someone else is a hard thing.
What if I end up with Aaron, only to find that we aren’t right together?
I think that would break my heart more than anything Steven did.
And worse, what if things go right?
Because I know myself.
If things are good, if I’m happy, I still might leave.
I’m not sure where this fear of commitment comes from.
I’m not sure if that’s why things were so sour with Steven, or if they were sour from the start.
Either way, Aaron is the kind of guy to commit and stay committed.
There’s no second chance.
So if I mess up my first chance?
That’s why I need to make sure I know who I am.
Why I need to make sure I’m ready to commit. And right now, when I’m committing to my career…
“Bella?” Ellen lays a hand on my arm. “You know it’s okay to want it all, right?
I smile vaguely at her. “Of course I do.”
But I don’t believe her or myself. It’s trying to convince a cat to take a bath: messy and improbable
How can I commit to Aaron when I’m trying to build my career and make my dreams come true?