Chapter 11
“Every angel needs a demon to invite them for coffee”
— Anonymous
Two weeks after our goodbye, I found myself in a depressing emotional state.
I put on a brave face trying to look okay, but inside the pain was enormous.
It seemed like I was living on autopilot.
I immersed myself in hotel matters, stuck to my routine, and let the days pass by, but the nights were endless.
At night, my hopes completely crumbled. I was certain my dark circles were getting bigger by the day.
Niky called me almost daily and invited me out many times, but the fear of running into him and seeing him with other women made me avoid any nighttime outings.
My brothers were quite attentive because they knew about the breakup and knew me well enough to realize I wasn’t at my best, but they respected my silences and my moments of solitude.
I had no news from Sol. I had gone by her house twice more, and both times the doorman informed me she was still traveling.
I had so many doubts and suspicions that one Saturday I had parked my car on the corner of her street and spent hours watching her building to see if she came out, but there was no sign of her.
That Friday I was working when I received a phone call from Niky.
I knew she would keep insisting that I go out with her, so I decided it was time to accept her invitation and go have some fun.
Henry had caused chaos in my heart and I felt defenseless against it, but it was time to take control of my feelings and emotions.
I needed to focus on emotional recovery.
You learn from every experience, and they’re part of the path to growth.
I had learned my lesson and would take better care of my feelings.
“Hi, Niky,” I greeted her cheerfully.
“Dali, I need your help, please!” she begged, sounding more distressed than I’d ever heard her.
“What’s happening?”
“You have to help me finish a dress. You’re the only one who can help me.”
“Whaaaat? Are you crazy? I don’t even know how to thread a needle,” I stated, completely surprised by her request.
“I’m not asking you to sew,” she said, laughing. “I need you to come be a model. You’re the only one the dress might fit.”
“Can you explain exactly what you need? I warn you, I don’t know how to sew or model.”
“Let me explain. I don’t make custom dresses, but the owner of this dress is a special client and I agreed to make it for her. The problem is she needs it in a week and the little bitch went off to New York. How am I supposed to finish it if I can’t fit it on her?!”
“And what can I do? I still don’t understand.”
“You need to come and try it on so I can adjust it. You have her height and body type. Several people here have tried it on, but it doesn’t look good on anyone. You have the perfect body for this dress.”
“I just have to try it on?” I asked, confused.
“And stay still for a while as I make adjustments.”
“If that’s all I can do to help, count me in.”
“Thaaaaaank youuuuu. You need to come to my atelier. Can you be here in an hour?” she asked enthusiastically.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“I love you with all my heart, genius!”
“Stop flattering me, you already got what you wanted,” I said, smiling, and I heard my friend laugh.
In the end, I wasn’t going out with my friend, but I was going to help her with one of her projects, and surely afterward we’d order something to eat and stay chatting. It was a good plan.
An hour later I was entering Niky’s atelier.
My friend was already a recognized fashion designer, and her designs were spectacular creations.
Her atelier was also impressive. I knew from her that Henry had helped her set it up and had given her a significant amount of money to start the business.
Niky was very grateful to her brother and admired and respected him greatly.
“Daliiiii, thank you for this,” my friend said when I entered her office, and she immediately came toward me and we embraced.
“Nothing to thank me for. I have a feeling it’s going to be fun.”
“I don’t think you’ll say that after standing for more than an hour barely moving, but I appreciate your effort,” she said, making a face.
“Don’t worry, I can do it. I hope the dress fits me.”
“It will fit you, I have no doubt. My client has a spectacular body like yours.”
“Thanks. What’s the dress like?” I asked, curious.
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s a wedding dress. You’re not superstitious, are you?” she asked, concerned.
“I’m not. I didn’t know you couldn’t try on a wedding dress.”
“No, I didn’t either. I’m just saying it in case because I’ve heard something about wedding dresses, but I don’t even know what they say. I don’t believe in those things,” she stated, dismissing it.
“I think the myth says the groom can’t see the dress before the wedding because it brings bad luck.”
“Perfect, then we don’t have a problem. Come, let me show it to you and you can try it on.”
When I saw the dress, I was stunned. It was a beautiful A-line dress with a beaded lace bodice; the plunging V-neckline was absolutely sinful, and the open back gave it a sensual touch.
When Niky and the girls who worked with her started helping me put it on, it looked and felt so delicate that I was afraid I might tear it.
Once ready, I looked at myself in the mirror and was speechless. I didn’t recognize myself in that beautiful white dress. I had never imagined myself as a bride, and looking at my reflection, all I could see was a princess. I looked special and beautiful.
“Oh my goodness! It looks like it was made for you. You’re a sexy princess!” Niky exclaimed, and all her assistants nodded, staring at me in awe.
“I feel like a princess,” I said, smiling.
“We’ve never seen such a beautiful bride, and that’s without the rest of the accessories,” one of the girls said.
“It really does look like it was made for her,” Niky said. “It’s clear that I’ll be designing your wedding dress.”
“If I ever get married, I guarantee you’ll be the one making it,” I affirmed.
“Do you girls think this one won’t get married?” Niky asked, looking at the girls who were helping her.
“You’re beautiful. I’m sure if your boyfriend saw you, he’d ask you to marry him right away,” one of them said.
I looked at Niky but didn’t comment. I noticed my friend looking at me with compassion, but I smiled because I didn’t want her to feel bad.
After the initial impact of seeing myself, Niky and her assistants began the task of adjusting the dress, though I looked at it and thought it didn’t need anything more. We spent nearly an hour like this, and I was really starting to feel tired, especially because of the heels she had made me wear.
“I think we’re done!” Niky exclaimed happily. “Now I need you to walk so I can see how it looks when you move. Let’s go to the private runway next door.”
I walked very carefully, and we entered the room next to the one we were in, which was designed and decorated to be a runway where clients or models could showcase Niky’s spectacular creations.
“Wait here while I go get the camera I use to photograph my dresses,” Niky said. “Girls, come with me because I need to give you some instructions for the red dress we worked on today.”
They all left, leaving me alone in that room that looked ready for a fashion show.
One of the walls had been transformed into a giant mirror, and I could observe myself carefully.
I walked a little, looking at myself, and I truly understood why brides get emotional when they see themselves dressed like this.
It wasn’t my dress, and I didn’t even have marriage in mind, but seeing myself in it gave me butterflies in my stomach.
“Why are you dressed as a bride? Are you getting married?” asked a very, very familiar and special voice.
If the dress had given me butterflies in my stomach, his voice made those butterflies invade my entire body, and I nearly fainted right there. Slowly, I turned until my eyes met his. He was standing in the doorway, looking at me in bewilderment.
“What are you doing here?” was all I could ask.
“Are you getting married?!” he insisted, in a tone louder than usual.
I stood watching him. He looked stunning in that dark blue suit, but his face reflected only surprise and desperation. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me that way.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said.
He approached me so quickly that it seemed like he was running. He stood in front of me and looked me up and down. When he looked into my eyes again, the gleam in his made me think he was... emotional? Or furious? Or alarmed? No, I was probably imagining things.
“Tell me right now if you’re getting married!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“Then speak up for once! Who is he? Tell me who the damn guy is!” he demanded, grabbing my arms.
“Stop saying ‘damn this’ and ‘damn that.’ Have you lost your mind? Let go of me, Henry.”
He released me and ran his hands through his hair in desperation. I didn’t understand his fit of madness or his demands. Was he jealous?
“Yes, damn it; I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been crazy since I met you.”
And I couldn’t even react. He lunged at me with such force that we almost both ended up on the floor.
Before I knew it, his arms were around me and his warm, soft lips were on mine, claiming my very soul.
His tongue made its way between my lips and entered my mouth as if by right.
My entire body belonged to him and surrendered to him.
I had missed him so much and couldn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and forgot everything.
I returned his kiss with the same passion with which he was kissing me.
I could feel his heartbeat, and he could surely feel mine because my heart was about to leap out of my chest. After a few minutes, his lips began to move more slowly until our mouths separated.
Henry took a deep breath and rested his forehead against mine.