Chapter 45
Sky
The sliding doors open.
Finally!
With great anticipation, I walk toward Aurora, who is just leaving the airport's security area. "You made it!"
Aurora spreads her arms. "No, you made it."
I did. My design is actually in the final selection. I've known it since yesterday, but I still haven't fully grasped it.
I sink into our embrace. I didn't realize how much I missed her over the past few months. Even though we've been talking on the phone, having her here with me is something entirely different.
"Thank you for coming," I murmur into her long hair.
She holds me tightly. "After what you've told me? How could I have stayed in Paris?"
I pull away from her and look at her intently. "The plan is crazy, isn't it?"
"Totally insane," she replies with a grin.
"And pretty big." And exciting. And frightening. And absolutely beautiful. And just everything.
"I can't wait to see the dress." Aurora's eyes light up. She grabs her suitcase, and we walk together to the rental car.
On the way to ?land, we chat about everything that has happened in the past few months. I hear about her wedding preparations and how she and Maxime are considering leaving Paris to live in Tuscany.
"A new life begins," I say wistfully as we reach ?land.
Aurora looks around curiously, and I see her smiling appreciatively out of the corner of my eye. "For both of us."
"That would be a dream." My heart grows heavy, overwhelmed by my longing for Kjell.
With thoughts of him and what I hope for us, I park in front of the holiday home a little while later.
"It's quite comfy here," Aurora comments enthusiastically as we enter, her gaze roaming around before immediately settling on my design hanging next to the fireplace. "Is that it?"
Filled with pride, I nod. I designed and sewed this dress. It's a part of me. "What do you think?"
She taps her chin thoughtfully, then her mouth quirks up mischievously. "I can only evaluate that properly when it's worn."
"Try it on," I reply, well aware she didn't mean it that way. Ever since she found out I used to model, she insists on seeing me in action. "I'll put the kettle on in the meantime."
Shaking her head, she takes the dress hanger from me and hands it back. "I'll make the tea," she says with a wink, heading for the kitchen.
A few minutes later, I tiptoe through the spacious living room. The doupion silk clings to my body, and the one-sided chiffon drape gently flutters behind me.
Aurora stares at me with her mouth half open. I perform a spin and end up in a cool pose, positioning one leg so that the side slit reveals a glimpse of my thigh.
"Bam!" she exclaims enthusiastically.
Inevitably, my cheeks start to glow. The fact that she's speechless is the best compliment ever.
The opportunity is alive.
That's fantastic, even though that's not really what it's about. Whether my design wins or not doesn't matter. Kjell matters.
I run my hand over the fabric. "Of course, it still needs to be adjusted to fit the model. And the outfit includes golden strappy stilettos." I've embroidered them with the same pearls that adorn the one-shoulder strap and the waist on the side.
Aurora nods admiringly, still holding the kettle in her hand. "It's incredible that such talent lies within you," she says thoughtfully. "Unbelievable that it's only coming to light now."
That's not entirely true. Even as a child, I used to sew outfits for my dolls. And in fashion school, design was by far my favorite subject.
"My father never found it sufficient." How many times had he admonished me to stop drawing and focus on the important tasks?
He wanted to make a younger version of himself out of me. And I wanted to be her, just to please him. At least he should love me after my mother didn't even notice me.
It's strange how clearly I can see this truth, which I couldn't recognize for so long, now in front of me.
"Is everything okay?" Aurora asks in the midst of my thoughts.
"Soon," I say wistfully. Soon, everything will be okay. "I'll take off the dress, then we can discuss the next steps, okay?"
"But of course," Aurora replies. "I'm ready for anything."
Incredible. Just four months ago, Aurora was more like an acquaintance to me, but I never really let her in. Thanks to the truth I shared with her, we've become true friends. And I wonder why my fear of my father's reaction kept me from confiding in her much earlier.
I quickly change, and when I return to the open kitchen, the tea is ready. We sit at the table by the glass front, where the Swedish winter is showing its most beautiful side today.
"So how can I help you?" Aurora asks, cradling her cup in both hands.
I look at her meaningfully. "The press needs to catch wind of the show."
The presentation is an open event. The applicants and Chloe Morrigan's management will be there, maybe even Chloe herself. She probably has her own press people and might have invited more, after all, this competition is also pure publicity for her. Still, I need to make sure.
"Somebody"—I nod unequivocally to Aurora—
"should tip them off that something spectacular is happening tomorrow at four o’clock at the Waterfront Congress Centre."
"Got it," she says, shifting in her chair. "But I can't speak Swedish."
"That's exactly the point. With your Italian-accented English, you'll sound like an insider from Chloe's team."
If a Swede were to call, they might think he's a nutcase. But someone who sounds as international as Aurora? Never. "I've made a list." I quickly get up and fetch the multipage printout from my improvised sewing room. At the top of the first page are Sanningens ?gonblick and Ryktesspegeln . I point at the names with my index finger. "These are particularly important," I say with a grin.
Aurora nods knowingly. "Understood."
Making the dress was the first step, getting selected for the finals was the second. Informing the press isn't just the third item on my plan. It's also the point of no return.
"I'll call my mother myself to invite her too," I continue quickly to keep my rising panic in check.
"She must be thrilled." Aurora's voice takes on a soft tone.
Absentmindedly, I gaze out at the snowy landscape. My conversation with my mother comes to mind. "She somehow always knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I'm not cut out to be a businesswoman," I reply, a warm feeling rising within me. Even though she went through a tough time, she always sensed me and my desires—even better than I did myself. "Her idea that I could become a model wasn't entirely right either, but she saw much more in me than I ever thought."
Aurora reaches across the table to take my hand. "I'm glad you and your mother had a chance to talk," she says, and I hear the longing in her voice. It's been five years since her mother passed away, and I'm sure it hasn't been easy for her.
"Do you know what I believe?" I offer her a wistful smile. "I believe that we often live with false convictions."
"No one knows that better than I do," she replies, likely thinking of how she almost lost the love of her life because of it. "What were you mistaken about?"
In the past few days, surrounded by the quiet solitude of the island, I've had a lot of time to reevaluate my life. I haven't talked to anyone about it yet, but now I'm ready to put into words the final truth I've realized.
"My addiction wasn't solely my fault," it feels strange to say it out loud. Liberating and scary at the same time. "No one forced me; it was my decision, and that will never change. But I did it because I couldn't handle the pressure."
That sometimes subtle but always prevailing pressure that my father imposed on me. It was an escape from what was happening at home, from what I had to endure every day, and from what lay beneath the surface of our family.
"I'm not saying my parents are to blame," I quickly clarify, as I don't want that to be misunderstood. "I'm just saying that maybe we all share some of the blame."
Aurora squeezes my hand.
"Behind every story, there's a truth that we don't see at first glance," I say thoughtfully. Even behind Kjell's story, I'm sure of it.
What if I never find out because he can't forgive me?
I swallow hard. "What if I've lost him forever?" I whisper with a trembling voice.
Although my question may seem completely out of context to her, she just shakes her head with an affectionate smile. "If he loves you, he'll understand why you did it," she says promptly, then reaches for the list of newspapers. "But first, we'll show him how serious you are."
And I am serious. My father will judge me for the rest of his life for defying him, but the truth is, our relationship can't break. That happened a long time ago. Perhaps it's beyond repair—quite the opposite of my love for Kjell.