Chapter 35
My designs are mocking me.
Eating cold leftovers from the takeout Kit sent a few days ago, I stand in my sweatpants and hole-y Georgia State hoodie, worried I’m a complete fraud.
Twelve of my eighteen dresses for Fashion Week are lined up on dress forms, bathed in light from the wall of windows in my loft.
Since I don’t have another wedding to worry about, I at least have plenty of time to stare at my creations and hate them bitterly. I spent so many hours pulling them together, and here in the sunlight, they all feel monstrously wrong.
Nothing about these dresses feels new or special or even good anymore.
Perhaps if I wasn’t thinking about dinner with Kit’s mom so much, I’d feel better about them. Worse, we still haven’t talked about the possibility of him going to Italy.
I want to scream at him for his silence, his absence, even though he’s been in bed with me every night since. That’s what killed me slowly the last time—the sudden disappearance of the Kit I gave my whole self to.
I should have just stayed in my studio for lunch that day. If I had, I wouldn’t know any of this: how it feels to finally have let him in only to hear that he’s leaving. Which should be what I want, since I need to divorce him in two weeks, but now that he’s been in every corner of my body and soul, I know how much the emptiness will hurt when he goes.
I know it’s not the same as last time, but this isn’t what I want. If we’re together, I want to be together, not in different hemispheres.
I don’t want him in half measures.
Worse, I understand him—I won’t give up the business I’ve worked so hard for, either. Giving it up to gallivant around the world at the whims of Kit’s company, solely reliant on him for everything, isn’t an option. He knows that. And it’s not like I can have some sort of traveling studio. Dress forms and bolts of fabric don’t exactly travel well.
I can’t believe I’m searching for ways to meet him in the middle when he won’t even consider staying without me begging him. What a goddamn mess.
“Oh, I love that one,” a voice says behind me. I whirl around, stunned to see any sort of visitors here.
Heidi snorts a laugh at my surprise. “This is Andie Dresser,” she tells the statuesque Black woman in a smart suit beside her. “She’s one of Atlanta’s best up-and-coming dress designers.”
“Up-and-coming?” The woman strides over to the third dress from the right to examine it up close. “As in, not too many people know about her yet?”
I shoot Heidi a look that says, Who the hell does she think she is?
“Andie, this is Odette Thorne.”
My eyes go wide. “As in, the woman marrying—”
“Yes.” Heidi nods. She gives me a slow smile. “She’s looking for someone to design her wedding dress.”
I whisper fiercely, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I called you three times and texted you twice,” she whispers back.
I stab my plastic fork into my cold lo mein and stuff my tongue into my cheek. Of all the days for me to not change out of my pajamas. Every gossip column in the world was abuzz with Odette’s engagement to a country music megastar who shall not be named. At least not here. Privacy is one of my business pillars. It has to be if I’m aiming to work with higher-profile brides.
“I’ve never seen a neckline like this.” Odette glances at me, her umber skin luminous in the sunlight. “It’s genius.”
I eye the dress; just moments ago it was laughing at my incompetence as a designer.
“Is this one making it into the show at Fashion Week?” Heidi asks me a leading question.
“Oh. Right.” I set my takeout container aside, ignoring that I’m in pajamas, and tell Odette, “I’m finalizing my lineup. There’s six more half-constructed over there.”
I open my mouth to suggest we take a look at those too, when two voices interrupt.
“Oh, those windows are gorgeous. This must be a source of inspiration.”
“The floors are clearly restored; she’s got an eye for history.”
We all turn to see who’s walked into my studio. I leave the door open during the day so brides and vendors can find me—or for Heidi to spring high-profile brides on me at the last minute, apparently.
There are two women in business attire eyeing my space. The one in red-framed glasses eyes the corner of my loft taken over by bolts of fabric. She opens up the leather portfolio she has clutched to her chest and scribbles something down as she tells the other one, “We could definitely use some shelves to display the bolts of fabric. Organize by color?”
“Nuh-uh,” the other woman shakes her head. She’s Black, wearing a great pair of high-waisted pants in a stunning magenta. “Organize by type of fabric.”
Panic stirs in my guts. “Excuse me. Can I help you?”
“Oh, sorry,” Red Glasses says with a smile. “I’m Catarina, and this is Ruby.”
When they don’t continue their introductions, the frustration I’ve fought all day rises to the surface. I tamp it down with a polite smile. These women are young, maybe just out of school. “I’m Andie, and this is a private studio.”
“Love those pants,” Odette tells Ruby over my shoulder. I don’t disagree, but if they even so much as ask for an autograph, I won’t be selling a dress to Odette. Or any other elite bride, when word gets out. I breathe in through my nose to remain calm.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I say, my fists clenching at my sides in an attempt to keep my temper on a tether, “what are you doing?”
“We’re here to help.” Ruby reaches into her bag. She presents a résumé on cardstock as she closes the space between us. “I graduated just last month from Georgia Tech. I double majored in fashion design and business administration. Last October, I interned with the board for Atlanta Fashion Week, and I spent a summer in New York with Lila Bennett.”
“Love her designs,” Odette sighs behind me.
“Same. They’re poetry in motion.”
Before I can get a handle on the situation, Catarina presents me with her résumé too. “I also graduated from Georgia Tech, with a degree in information systems and graphic design. I’ve spent the last few years working at the corporate level with DigiTech and Bonnie Mae Industries, restructuring their databases and redesigning everything from letterheads to their customer-facing websites and apps.”
“This is all very impressive”—I set the resumes aside—“but I don’t understand why you’re here.”
“Fashion Week,” Ruby says, matter-of-fact.
When I blink, still not sure what she’s talking about, Catarina adds, “Jamie told us to meet him here.”
Jamie? I slowly shake my head. “I don’t—”
Heavy footsteps enter my loft behind them, and my stomach ties itself in a knot to see Jamie strolling in, Cassidy and Steve on his heels. Camera on and aimed at me. I step in front of Odette, as if my faded reindeer flannel pants will hide who she is and why she’s here.
Fuck, fuck, and triple fuck.
As calmly as I can, I say through my teeth, “What are you doing here? I don’t remember any filming at my office on the docket today.” I’d have remembered. Cassidy would have given me timetables and met me earlier to strap on my mic.
Odette swears behind me. The blood rushes out of my face. I spin to face her, my hands up, palms facing outward in a placating gesture, like I’m soothing a wild animal. “I’m so sorry; let me figure this out.” I face Cassidy and tell her, “I absolutely did not approve filming at my studio today.”
“Jeremy’s orders,” Cassidy says wearily. She shrugs like it’s out of her hands. “And Kit said it would be a good day for you. No appointments on your calendar.”
Jamie at least has the decency to look embarrassed, holding his hands up, palms out. “I’m sorry, Andie. Kit said you still needed help, so I came with reinforcements.”
I close my eyes and press a hand to my forehead. “Goddammit, Kit.”
Odette’s voice comes from behind me. “Heidi said you worked alone.”
“I do.” I turn to her with a grimace. She’s going to fire me for this invasion of privacy, I just know it. And I don’t even work for her yet. I mourn the income from a dress that will be featured in magazines all over the country. For Kit to jeopardize this is just—
“I’ve always thought you should hire an assistant,” Heidi says. Very unhelpfully, I might add. I glare at her.
Before this can go any further, I tell Cassidy and Steve, “I need you to turn the camera off and leave. Please.”
“Andie, you know we need to—”
I hold a hand up in a gesture that says STOP. “If Jeremy has a problem with it, he can pay me a visit later. My client’s privacy comes first, so you need to go.”
“What’s all this about?” Odette asks before Cassidy can get a word in.
My head is spinning in ten different directions, and I can’t stop it. I take a deep breath, hoping the bile climbing up my throat doesn’t try to make an escape.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m sure I won’t burst into tears. My answer to Odette is as shaky as my smile. “It’s ridiculous, but there’s a reality show filming in town and—”
“First Look at Forever??” Catarina squeaks over my shoulder. Her eyes almost bug out of her head, and Steve and Jamie give her sheepish smiles and small waves. “I applied to be on their production team, but no one even looked at my résumé. Oh, wow. They found you a match?”
My lips press together in a tight smile, and how the hell did I wind up explaining my personal life to Odette Thorne and two complete strangers? “They sure did.”
The interlopers squeal with delight, and Odette pushes for more. “Do you think they got it right? I’ve heard the success rate for the show is pretty incredible. You’re not going to stop designing dresses, are you?”
I look to Heidi for help, but she’s just as stunned as I am. Jamie’s look is all apology and sympathy. It’s not his fault Kit set him up to fail.
All at once, the suggestion that I would give up what I’ve built simply because I’m married breaks me. My voice is loud enough to echo in the studio. “He’s a man who thinks he can walk into my life and turn everything upside down. He told me his mom wants him to fall in love and settle down and thinks that it’s his job to fix all my problems, even though they’re not problems, I’m just busy running the business that I built with my own two hands. And there’s cameras everywhere looking for a love story when all I want to do right now is ask him how he can even consider leaving when we’re so close to something so perfect it hurts!”
The room falls silent. I swallow the gut-wrenching feeling of having said too much. I never speak of my personal life with a client. Not like this. I never complain about running my business, lest anyone think I’m ungrateful for what I have. I have always worked myself to the bone. I have always been tired, sacrificing sleep and other luxuries to keep things going. I have always worked through lunch and sewn dresses until my fingers bleed. I have never been close to falling apart.
But a few weeks with Kit seems to be my undoing.
I take a deep breath and force a wan smile. “I’m sorry.” Turning to Cassidy, I say, “I’m not going to ask you again. I take my clients’ privacy seriously.”
The word client sits bitterly on my tongue. I know Odette won’t want to sign with me after this, anyway.
Cassidy sighs. She caught me ranting on camera already. “Talking heads later, before your date,” she reminds me.
Cool, great. We’ll pick this moment apart on camera. As long as she leaves. I give her a firm nod. She taps Steve on the shoulder, and I watch as they leave. I refuse to look away from the door until I hear the elevator close behind them.
“It sounds like a lot to take on.” Catarina nods, solemnly.
“It’s not easy,” Jamie agrees. “For any of us.”
“Catarina, Ruby. Jamie.” I sigh, my shoulders slouching as I feel exhaustion wrapping around me like a wet velvet cloak. “I’m sorry you came all this way, but I can’t afford to bring anyone on right now.”
The three of them look at each other, having a silent conversation, punctuated with tilted heads and nods. Jamie delivers the news as gently as he can. “He’s already paid all of us for a thirty-day introductory period. To get you through Fashion Week.”
“Oh my God.” The words are lost as I bury my face in my hands, tears welling too hot and fast. I can’t stop them. My shoulders heave and I only barely manage to muffle a sob as I shake my head.
A warm hand falls on my back as Heidi’s voice floats gently behind me. “Andie, I get emails from you at two in the morning.”
I sniff, insisting through my hands, “I work best late at night.”
“On invoices?”
The room is quiet while I pull myself together. I can’t do this here, not with an audience. I’m so humiliated I want to melt into the floor. I’m supposed to have it all together. I’m supposed to create a flawless experience for brides, and here I am, breaking down about my own goddamn marriage.
Kit’s going to leave. Nothing I say will stop him. That’s why he sent me all this help. He wants to make sure I’m taken care of while he’s gone, just like his mom. I’ll be well kept and here for him whenever he deigns to visit me.
I’m sure my eyes are rimmed with red as I turn to Odette. “I’m sorry. I’m not having the best day.”
Ruby steps forward and speaks in a soothing voice. “I’m sorry to have bothered you at an inconvenient time, but if I may?” She gestures to Odette.
Defeated, I shrug. “It’s up to her.”
Odette gives me one last look of pure pity, then says to Ruby, “Let’s hear it.”
Ruby gently nudges me to the side, and I look on, numb, as she begins asking Odette about her ideal wedding dress. Questions I should have asked her myself but couldn’t seem to pull it together long enough to do. Heidi takes notes on her tablet as they talk, too.
Before long, Odette turns to me, her mouth in a firm line. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks for your time.”
I can only nod as Heidi and Odette depart. Catarina and Ruby are already compiling notes and swiping through photos on their phones.
Jamie gives me a hug before they leave, too.
I want to cry anew. These two women Jamie brought are more qualified than I am to do my own damn job. And Kit paid them all, thinking it would, what, make me feel better? Help me get more sleep, or something?
All I feel is inadequate. These two women have impressive degrees and experience. The only things on my résumé are a year at a dry cleaner and another at a chain bridal store as a seamstress. I’m self-taught at everything from hemlines to spreadsheets.
What a perfect cherry on top of this shit sundae. For the first time in a long time, I feel in my gut how easy it is for all of this to be stolen from me. By someone else, who said he’d be my partner at the altar. This is why marriage was never on my list.
And Kit can go to hell.