Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Zombie walking out of Sonya’s office, the word “Friday” rattles around my brain like a person shaking a piggy bank full of coins.
I take the lift to the ground floor, cross the street to Norma’s Cafe, and order myself a double chocolate mocha and a large chocolate chip cookie.
I need sugar and more caffeine to function.
It’s only after I’ve devoured the cookie and half of my coffee that I feel ready to text Liz and call my team together for an emergency meeting.
Min
When you’re free, can you call me?
Liz
I just got off with Lord Renbrook. I already know. How are you holding up?
Min
Ask me later tonight.
Liz
I will. How late will you be working?
Min
Probably until nine or ten.
Liz
Ouch. Are you caffeinating yourself?
Min
*Photo of mocha*
Liz
No biscuit?
Min
It’s already in my tummy.
Liz
*Laughing emoji*
Liz is typing . . .
Liz
Text me when you get home tonight.
Min
I will.
I’m spending a few minutes strategizing my next move when a text from Sam slides into my inbox. I should ignore it. I don’t need any additional drama right now, but there is a burning curiosity inside of me that wants to know what he wrote.
Sam
Fashion Guru.
I stare at it for a moment. One word. One. That’s it? Anger and frustration boil up inside of me.
Min
Hi.
Sam
Minerva, I’m so sorry. Time got away from me again.
Min
That’s the best you can do?
Sam
***
Anger fills me. How can a guy who’s so sweet be so utterly clueless at the same time? My thumbs fly across the keyboard.
Min
You didn’t text or send me a message for two full days. Again.
Sam
Min, I’ve been busy. I said I was sorry.
Min
You promised you’d do better after the last time. I gave you a second chance and you blew it.
I see dots dancing across the screen that show Sam is typing, but I ignore them and continue to write out my own message. I have too much I need to get off my chest. All the emotions that have been building are yearning to be released.
Min
You’re not the only one who has been busy!
Did you ever stop to put yourself in my shoes?
No. You didn’t. For the past two weeks, you haven’t made a single effort to reach out to me.
Every single time I’ve connected with you or have gone out of my way to squeeze in a visit you in person, it has been initiated by me.
I didn’t expect you to visit me, but a call or a text would’ve been nice.
I click Send and continue to type.
Min
I kept making excuses for you, telling myself that you were busy. But enough is enough. No more excuses. I’m done. I’ve hit my limit. I’m mentally and physically exhausted and I can’t do this anymore. Clearly, I don’t matter as much to you as you did to me.
The dots stop and I stare at a blinking cursor.
A video chat request pops up. I choose to decline it. It’s petty of me, but oddly satisfying.
Sam
Min, please, can’t we talk?
Min
Not right now. I’m at work. I need to focus.
I set my phone down and rub my temples. I thought calling Sam out on his lack of communication would feel gratifying, but instead I feel empty. My screen lights up. The incoming text from Sam contains two words.
Sam
I’m sorry.
I silence the device and place it into my pocket.
I don’t have time to dwell on Sam. I need to push all thoughts of him and my personal life aside.
I have a job to do. One that will decide my future as a designer.
This is what I’ve been working for since I moved to London.
I’m not about to waste my golden opportunity.
Finishing my mocha, I march back up to the counter, order a second double mocha, and take it back to my office. My body is humming with sugar and caffeine. Nothing is going to stop me from meeting my new deadline.
A few hours later, I rest my head against the cool surface of the table and groan. I’ve hit a wall. I can’t force any new ideas out of my brain. My head and my stomach ache. Too much sugar. Too much caffeine. Too much pressure. Not enough sleep.
“What am I going to do?” I groan.
“Minerva,” a small voice says.
I slowly raise my head.
“Hey, Lea, what’s up?”
“It’s, uh, four, and you said to come see you now.”
“I did, didn’t I.” I blink a few times. “Is it four already?”
“It is,” Lea confirms. “I can come back later if you’re busy.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll always have time for you.” Unlike some people. I clear a space. “Clarissa’s moved up her wedding and it’s flustered everyone.”
Lea’s jaw opens. “Is that why everyone is working like I have a video playing on three times the speed?”
I nod. It’s been an intense day for everyone.
“What’s the new date for the wedding?”
“Saturday. We need to have all our work done by Friday.” I give Lea the condensed version of all that’s happening.
“Dress one is good to go, but dress two has been scrapped. Clarissa’s parents have asked her to wear something more traditional and she’s agreed to their request. I’m trying hard to come up with a new design, but I’m blanking out.
Anyway, don’t worry about us, we’ll get through it. Show me what you’ve come up with.”
Lea mutters under her breath about someone being meddlesome, but I don’t catch it all. She hesitates as she sits. “I don’t want to take you away from your work.”
“You’re doing me a favor; I could use a mental break. Now, show me what you’ve done.”
“I tried to take what you said to heart and played with a few different ideas.” Lea opens the CAD program.
I see variants of the cheongsam silhouette.
The first one contains larger block L and W letters.
The second and third sketches have transformed the dress into a top and trouser set.
“I was wracking my brain for an outfit I’d wear and this is what I dreamed up. ”
“You done good, kid.” I zoom in with the pencil and rotate the model. “I love the playfulness. Blue and pink are fun colors.”
An idea suddenly hits me. Why didn’t I see this before? The answer to the new dress has been sitting in front of me all day. “Lea, I think you might be able to help me.”
She sits taller. “I’ll do anything.”
“Be careful. You don’t even know what it is yet.” I chuckle. My good mood is returning.
Lea’s cheeks color.
“For the last three hours, I’ve been trying to work out how to create a cheongsam-inspired reception dress.
My problem is that it’s not something I grew up with.
Hanboks, yes. Cheongsams, no. I’ve done research and studied photos for inspiration, but it’s not the same.
You have though. You know what you’re doing. ”
“I do?”
“Yes. These sketches prove it,” I emphasize.
“But . . . me? Help design a dress for Clarissa?”
“Yes. There’s no one better suited for the task.” I nod to the tablet. “Do you think you can do this? Will you collaborate with me?”
Lea considers this for several long moments. A glint of determination fills her eyes and that’s when I know, together we’re going to kick some major butt. This must be how superheroes feel.
Lea cracks her knuckles and takes hold of my tablet. “Let’s get on with it.”
“If you pull up a blank page, what I’m playing with in my brain is the idea of a trumpet-shaped dress meets a cheongsam.”
“Oh! I can do that. Give me a moment.” I watch in amazement as Lea’s hands fly across the screen. “It should be sleeveless . . . maybe have three buttons across here . . . it can conform to her body and flare out here . . .”
“Can you add a hint of purple peeking out of the bottom? We’ll cut off the edge of the skirt so it’s wavy too.”
She pauses. “Why the purple? Shouldn’t it be blue?”
“Not this dress.” I shake my head. “The light purple is going to be a tulle layer to give it some drama. Nobody will know it’s there unless they look closely.
I want it to resemble a water lily. I’ve heard from Sonya those are special to Clarissa.
With all the chaos of the changes, she should have something that’s hers. ”
Lea’s hand flies to her heart. “I’d forgotten about that. The water lily house at Kew Gardens is where Clarissa found the inspiration for the Duchess of Leeds’s wedding dress four years ago. Auntie loves telling that story to anyone who will listen.”
“Wait a moment. Are you related to Clarissa?”
“She’s my cousin. My mum and her mum are sisters.”
“Really?” I sputter.
“I thought you knew.” Lea scratches her forehead.
“No, I didn’t.” If I had, I would’ve approached our relationship differently.
“Huh, well, we are.” She inhales sharply. “You’re not going to fire me from being your intern because of it, are you?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.”
She relaxes. “Good, because I love working with you. You take the time to teach and explain things to me. The other person I was paired with prior to you gave me all these menial tasks to do. I could watch, but it’s not the same as getting one-on-one time and some hands-on experience.”
I could say the same thing about Clarissa and Sonya.
They’re both kindly taken me under their wing in the short time I’ve been around them.
I’ve grown a lot in the span of three weeks.
Being trusted to work on her wedding dress has challenged me to the extreme.
Yet I relish being given a chance to show them what I can do.
My attention returns to the tablet screen. “Do you think we should make any other adjustments to the design?”
“No. I think simple is the way to go.”
“What about colors? I know white isn’t something that would normally be worn. It would be red.”
“It is, but in this case, I think white would look better.”
“Do you think your aunt and Clarissa would approve?” I ask.
Lea nods. “Yes. We’re the designers and this is our vision.”
“Yes! That’s right.” I hold up my hand for a high five. “Let’s go and show this to Sonya. If she green lights us, I’ll show you how to draft a pattern.”
Lea jumps to her feet. “You want me to come with you?”
“Duh. Now come on, we need to get moving on this.” Her arms wrap around me tightly. I’m caught off balance and bump into the wall. “Oof.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I smile too. The stress leaves my body. Yes, working under a deadline for a wedding is hard, but it’s moments like these that remind us of the true purpose of a wedding.
It’s a ceremony to celebrate love and bring two people together.
I’ve lost sight of my own love of designing for a bit.
I would do well to live by the advice I gave this morning. This is a team effort.
“You’re welcome, now come on. I’ll even let you present your idea.”
When I arrive home to my flat, it’s after midnight. There is a box of chocolates and a vase of purple and blue hyacinths. Attached the bouquet is a card with the words “Forgive me” written on it. I take everything inside, remove my shoes, exhausted, and sink against the couch.
“It’s going to take a lot more than flowers and chocolate for me to forgive you, but it’s a start,” I say to myself.
I close my eyes. Everything is heavy. I could fall asleep here—my couch is so squishy soft. With Lea’s help, we were super productive today. We started working on a muslin mockup, and tomorrow, we’ll go shopping for some fabric.
As my body relaxes, my thoughts turn to Sam. Where does he stand with me? If I’m being honest, I don’t know. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said he has all the qualities I’m looking for in a man. He’s thoughtful, kind, considerate, funny, and hopelessly romantic.
But when he’s been put to the test, he’s failed to show me that I matter.
I’ve put in all the work to make this relationship work, and he’s done nothing.
Okay, maybe not nothing, but he’s done little to show me that he wants us to be a priority in his life.
Relationships can’t be one-sided. What does that say about a future together?
The question is, what do I want do about it?
Do I want to give him a third chance? Do I want to end it?
Thinking about it all makes me go cross-eyed.
I’m tired. I know it’s never a good idea to make a decision when my brain is clouded with emotions.
I need time to figure it all out. So I guess that means for now, I’ll push everything to the back burner, and see how events play out on their own.