Chapter 5 #2
I stay in the closet for a few minutes, needing a bit of time to parse through my emotions and remember how to move my feet. When I rejoin the girls on the floor, I hand Esme the studded heels in silence.
Peyton frowns. “You good?”
I’m not sure how to convey no, I just experienced an unwanted rush of nostalgia with the man who hurt me deeply two years ago, so I shrug.
“We have thirty minutes left with photography.” All three of us straighten at the sound of Lamont’s voice. His skin glistens under the fluorescent lighting with some sort of golden body shimmer. “Less talking, more working. Tessa, come with me.”
I speedwalk behind him in an attempt to keep up.
Even though he’s much shorter and nearly thirty years older than I am, he’s very quick on his leather Ferragamo Oxford-clad feet.
Hell, I run marathons, but somehow my quads always burn after chasing him around.
As we pass by rows of garment racks, I manage to snag a notebook off a table.
Lamont pushes open the frosted door to his office and sits in the black leather chair behind his desk. He slides a new pair of blue-tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose, making it even more difficult than normal to piece out any facial expressions.
“We’re very close to Milan, and the tasks are going to double.” He speaks at a volume so quiet I almost miss it.
“No problem!” I reply cheerily.
Many problems.
He wiggles his mouse to log into his desktop computer. I open my notebook and poise my pen.
Typing, he continues, “I had to take a call before I could discuss design details on Look Four with Giovanni. I need his opinions on the hem design.” Opening up his desk drawer and retrieving a file, he quickly flips through it and hands it to me.
“Oh, I’m happy to take a look at the renderings.” I set down my pen and pick up the file, flipping it open.
Lamont’s hand stops mine. “After Giovanni. It would be a waste to give your opinions now, before his thoughts are considered.”
I deflate. “Got it.”
“I know it’s Sunday, but I need you to deliver these.”
And the “fast moving” day just got much, much slower.
“Oh. Um, I have lunch with my brother scheduled after the shoot. But I guess I could swing by Cattaneo’s after that?” I swoop up my tone at the end of the sentence, hoping it sounds like a question instead of a plan. Maybe he can send one of the apprentices.
“Mhm.”
Lamont resumes typing on his desktop, leaving me to awkwardly hover, unsure if I should stay or go. His fingers don’t stop flying across the keyboard, and his gaze stays glued to the screen.
“That’s all.” A quiet dismissal.
Packing everything up, I’m careful not to drop any of the sketches out of the folder before hustling out of the room for lunch with Daniel.
* * *
“So about your apartment for ants…” My brother trails off, looking at me with hopeful eyes.
“Daniel, I will hire an Etsy witch to put a curse on you if you finish that sentence. I’m fine. I don’t want your money.”
He sighs in frustration, poking at a lettuce leaf on his plate. “At least let me buy your groceries from time to time.”
“I don’t need groceries. I stay hydrated by lapping up my tears of stress, and my stomach is already full of excitement for Milan.” I shovel a forkful of salad in my mouth, mumbling, “They wouldn’t fit in my half-fridge anyways.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m happy for you, Tessie, but you can’t stop me from worrying. I want you to have everything you need.”
“And I almost do. Or, I will, once I start my own fashion house one day,” I reply wistfully, staring out the foggy window of the fancy restaurant. With all of my creative energy flowing to Lamont, my personal sketchbook is as dusty as my hopes and dreams.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you. You were sketching designs before you could talk.
” He smiles proudly, and the thin gap between his two front teeth makes an appearance.
Even though Daniel is six years older than me, we share similar features, from the top of our thick, wavy black hair to the bottom of our bigger-than-average feet.
Daniel clears his throat. “You know I’d be happy to invest in your future line.”
“I know. But I want to make it on my own. And, one day, if you did invest, I’d want to be confident I can give you a good return.
” Quickly changing the subject, as I always do when he offers me money, I lower my voice.
“Why are we at this fancy restaurant instead of the diner? You’ll get recognized here. ”
Even though he retired from the New York Mustangs at the end of last season as their top wide receiver, Daniel still gets stopped by fans.
And with the hype around game day fits and athleisure, the football and fashion worlds cross over more than anyone realizes.
I want to succeed on my own merits. I don’t even use my real last name at work out of worry I’ll be given some sort of undeserved leg up.
“I wanted to take you somewhere Italian now, since I’m in town and won’t be able to celebrate with you in Milan. This place is only open on weekends, so it lined up perfectly.”
Daniel’s always been thoughtful and considerate like this.
His constant encouragement, as the only father figure I’ve ever had, meant the world to me growing up.
Between his nurturing and Mom’s unconditional love, I rarely wanted for more.
But I still couldn’t quite soothe that tiny-but-persistent ache in my heart, the one that wondered what a bond with a father would’ve felt like.
He frowns, eyes downcast. “I hate that Mom and I can’t be at your show.”
“It’s my own fault you can’t go. I didn’t want to jinx it by mentioning the possibility of fashion week too early. And I’d never forgive myself if Mom cancelled her Michigan trip because of me. She’s been preparing for her photography exhibit for months. If anything, it kills me to miss her show.”
“Gracie and I will be there, and we’ll take pictures for you,” he offers.
Daniel’s favorite person—his wife, Grace, has always been an honorary Thompson, but he made it official last year. With her growing up next door to us, it wasn’t a matter of if they would fall in love—it was when.
“How is our most talented family member doing? Mom said that G’s clinic is as busy as ever.”
His whole body seems to smile. “Gracie’s perfect.
Her animal clinic was just featured in a local Columbus magazine, and her waiting list has tripled.
” Daniel’s talking so animatedly about her that he starts to cough.
He takes a sip of water before continuing to gush.
“Actually, one of her patients was just featured in a dog food ad, so she’s basically a Veterinarian to the Stars.
She’s working longer hours, though, trying to fit everyone in.
You know how she is… hates turning anyone away. ”
I love the way Daniel and Grace support each other’s goals. The possibility that I end up in a relationship like theirs feels unlikely, though, given my history.
It’s not like my previous boyfriends insulted my designs…
They just didn’t care. I’d eagerly show them a sketch I was working on, explaining my thought process behind the choice of fabric and pointing out the details, before realizing their eyes had glazed over.
It was always a brief glance at my bristol board with an offhand “Looks good, babe.”
Eventually, I stopped showing them at all. Turns out, apathy is worse than disdain.
“Oh em gee! It’s DT! I love you!” I’m wrenched out of my thought spiral by a pretty, twenty-something blonde fangirl squealing.
This is why going to a restaurant of this caliber was a bad idea. I knew something like this would happen. Shrinking down in my seat, I make myself smaller in an attempt to evade her attention.
“Are you his wife?” Fangirl boldly asks. She tucks her sleek hair behind her ear. “I thought he was with that other girl… the redhead.”
Daniel scowls at the implication that he’d ever cheat on Grace. Actually, he looks kind of sick to his stomach… Is he going to throw up from just the thought of infidelity? He swallows hard, clenching his jaw.
“Thanks for your support,” he replies curtly, “but I’m here with a relative, so I’d appreciate some privacy right now.”
“Totally. Let me just grab one picture for socials or else no one will believe I met you!” The girl leans in and snaps a photo without his permission.
“Hey! You can’t do—”
“It’s fine, Tessie. Just drop it,” Daniel responds in a low, resigned voice. Having got what she wanted, the girl saunters back to her table, no doubt posting the picture to all ten of her followers.
Fifteen minutes later, I realize my follower count estimation was completely off, as a handful of fans with phones and a couple of paparazzi gather outside the restaurant.
Daniel takes a deep breath and leans over to grab his wallet from his back pocket.
I squint from the camera flashes bouncing off the window glass.
Leaving double the amount of the bill’s total in cash, Daniel grabs my hand and starts leading me through the restaurant.
There’s only one way out, so we’re going to have to weather the group by the door.
Taking a protective step in front of me and grabbing my wrist, he does his best to shield me as we brace ourselves for the cluster. As soon as the door opens, the questions from the two paparazzi begin.
“DT! You steppin’ out on your missus?”
“What’s her name?”
“What happened with the wife?”
“What’s your social handle, sweetheart?”
“Give us a smile!”