Chapter 35 #2
I pause. “But you always wrote things down while I talked, like I bored you.”
“Because I’m trying to understand you. I didn’t grow up here.
I write your references down and look them up later.
I don’t want to be like…” He looks up to the ceiling, like he’s trying to recall something.
After a few moments, he snaps his fingers.
“Like Summer Roberts, not getting Seth Cohen’s nerdy jokes from The Orange City—the TV show you like.
” He grins proudly, having made a reference he knows I’ll get.
I raise an eyebrow, curious.
“I’m going to pull out now, okay? To show you something.”
Gio moves out of me, and I frown. It turns out, after being with him, I don’t like being empty. He clocks my pouty face and smirks. “We can do it again in a minute, greedy girl.”
He pulls on his boxers and grabs his notebook from the nightstand, handing it to me. “Here. See for yourself.”
We both sit up in bed and flip the notebook open.
Wide receiver role. Someone who catches the ball.
Weaponized incompetence: a man does something wrong on purpose to make the woman do more work
Camp Rock, military base? A movie about a music camp for teens.
Among grocery lists, work reminders, and other notes, are lines of things I’ve said over the years. Everything from silly quips to deeper topics grace dog-eared pages.
I’m shocked into silence. The effort he put in… how he always listened to me, even when we didn’t talk like we used to.
For a brief moment, I consider letting all of our past go. His emotions and intentions are clear. Yet at the same time, there’s one final thing we need to address.
“Do you genuinely like my designs?” I ask quietly.
Gio doesn’t just look confused. He looks disoriented, tilting his head like he’s trying to balance his thoughts. “What?”
I’ve always kept his not-so-secret opinions to myself, laced with a healthy dose of shame. I didn’t want him to know how much his words affected me, so I never brought them up to my friends out of fear it would tarnish their opinion of my work.
“Two years ago, you called me into your shop to talk about the mentorship role you had open. A role I was interested in.”
Rolling my neck a few times, I try to release some of the tension in my shoulders.
We had a solid working relationship back then.
I’d been running to Gio’s shop longer than anyone else at my level, and it felt like we were friends more than colleagues.
The mentorship was open to anyone at the house.
Everyone wanted it because the varied experience meant a stronger portfolio.
Understanding the art of tailoring will make you a more valuable designer, Lamont had said at the time.
And as the most tenured junior designer, I was so sure that I’d get the position. So hopeful.
I pull the blanket up underneath my armpits and avert my eyes. “But when I arrived at your shop to talk about the mentorship, it turned out you only wanted to ask me for Elio’s number. So you could encourage him to apply for the position.”
At that point, I was so used to getting asked for someone else’s number by my father, I wasn’t surprised, just ashamed. Of course, it wasn’t me he wanted. It wasn’t me who was good enough. I wasn’t even worthy of consideration.
My heart sinks to my stomach, remembering that day.
How I stared at him, fighting back tears, counting down the seconds until I could leave.
How I set the coffee I brought for him down on the table, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
The way I beat myself up over it, mocking myself for even thinking that I had a chance.
I sigh, looking down. “You probably don’t even remember saying this, but, before I left, I worked up enough courage to tell you that I was also thinking about applying. And… Well, you laughed in my face. You scoffed and said, ‘Oh, this mentorship isn’t for someone like you.’”
The moment is embroidered into my body. Like a reinforced triple stitch, the disappointment is sewn into the fabric of who I am.
At first, I thought maybe Giovanni was in a bad mood, having an off-day. But then I remembered a phrase he’s repeated in years since: I don’t say things I don’t mean. And I knew it was me that was the issue.
My mortification at not even being entertained as an option slowly morphed into resentment.
Utterly humiliated, I didn’t end up even submitting an application.
Lamont continued assigning me the most menial tasks, like fetching fabrics and printing lookbooks.
Since then, I’ve worked twice as hard to prove myself, giving the team all of my best designs over storing them away for my future collection.
When I feel brave enough to look up again, Gio wears a horrified expression. His face is pale, eyes wide. “That’s why you hate me?”
“Hated—past tense now.” I give him a weak smile.
“After getting to know you on a deeper level and seeing your appreciation for design, I understand why your standards are so high.” I clear my throat nervously.
“Maybe Elio was more deserving than me. I never saw his work, so part of my reaction was out of bitterness. It just hurt, I guess, that you didn’t even want me to apply…
” I trail off. “I knew we weren’t necessarily close at that time, but at least good colleagues and friends.
And I, um, can’t lie. It’s affected my self-esteem over the years.
It’s not you, honestly. It’s my own insecurities.
But I think I’m starting to persuade you, because you mentioned you liked my work to Lu and your mom.
” I pause. “Although, maybe you were pretending, and—”
“I’ve always loved all your designs,” he chokes out.
I blink a few times before narrowing my eyes. “If you’re saying that to appease me because we’re closer now, that’s actually even more insulting, Giovanni.”
“The collection you pitched that year to Lamont was exquisite. The Op Art era-inspired geometric details were stunning. I never thought space age fashion could be presented in such a tight, focused story.” He rubs his eyes, closing them for a moment before staring into mine.
“It was the most cohesive set of flats I’ve seen in quite some time. ”
“But you didn’t—”
“It was exceptional, Tessa.”
I release a frustrated sigh.
“I recommended Elio apply, yes. Not because you weren’t talented enough for the mentorship, and certainly not because I didn’t want to work with you.”
I snap my eyes to his. “What?”
“It was never about your designs.” His voice comes out hoarse. “I didn’t encourage you to apply because I thought you’d be up for a staff designer role in the next few months. It was well-known that Claudia was leaving Lamont and her position would be opening.”
Gio’s eyes are wrought with sadness. “My mentorship is meant for beginners, Tessa. It would’ve only set you back, wasted your time. I laughed because I couldn’t fathom someone of your caliber even wanting to apply for an entry-level mentorship with me. The idea seemed… It seemed ridiculous. ”
I sharply inhale. Confusion and indignation war in my head as a pit forms in my stomach. The expression on his face is pure devastation, and he lifts his hand to cradle my chin.
Gio releases a sigh. “I was shocked you didn’t apply for Claudia’s role, but now…”
“Yeah. I didn’t apply for her role because I thought I wasn’t good enough for your role. God, I was so hurt. But this changes…” I release a frustrated breath.
“With your skillset, Tessa, you could go anywhere. The look you designed last year for the house—the one that went viral? It brought in millions to the brand in major collaborations.” He ducks his head, looking directly into my eyes. “Your talent is remarkable.”
Exquisite. Exceptional. Remarkable.
It’s not the compliments that I’m focused on—it’s who’s saying them. With Gio’s words, that thread of resentment, the one that’s wound up so tight around my heart, starts to unravel.
This man doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I misinterpreted—”
Gio shakes his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I made an assumption on your behalf. I tried to fix a problem for you before it even became one. I should’ve been clearer. I wouldn’t have ever…”
“I believe you.” I climb into this lap. The most refreshing thing about becoming close with Gio is that I know his heart. He doesn’t need to launch into explanation after explanation, apology after apology, rehashing things until he’s blue in the face. I know him. I trust him. And I’m just… happy.
Gio reaches behind me to roll down the cover. We both lay back down, and he turns us on our sides, holding me from behind, before pulling the blanket over us. I put my hands over his hands, which rest on my stomach.
“Tessa?”
I lazily hum in response.
“It feels like both the right and wrong time to ask this, but… Do you want to be with me? As my girlfriend?”
His throat bobs against the back of my neck, fingers idly stroking my stomach.
“The right time,” I murmur.
He gently squeezes my side. “Everything with you feels right.”
I turn to face him with a smile. “And.” I kiss him softly. “My answer.” I kiss him again. “Is.” Kiss. “Yes.”
He presses his lips underneath my chin, followed by a second kiss at the base of my throat.
The exhaustion from the day sets in, and I yawn. “I don’t have my sound machine with me. Will you talk me to sleep, Gio?”
He hums. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“Anything. As long as it’s your voice.”