29. Alexis
Alexis
The coffee shop down the street from the Fashion For All warehouse has become a frequent stop for me.
Sometimes, when I have a little extra time in my day, I like to use it as a place to sketch designs.
Eventually, the workshop will fill that niche, but for now, the sounds of construction make it difficult to focus there, so the coffee shop is my go-to.
The staff have started to recognize me, and they know my usual—iced tea with vanilla and a slice of lemon cake.
It’s waiting for me on the counter when I walk inside.
The barista, a young woman with a punky undercut, offers me a warm smile as I pick up my order.
I head over to claim a corner booth, where I can spread out my sketches without feeling like I’m in anyone’s way.
I find the page in my sketchbook where I left off yesterday.
I’ve been working on a jacket that’s meant to adjust to changes in the wearer’s body shape.
It could work for someone who’s pregnant, someone whose weight fluctuates, or even someone who just wants a more versatile fit.
The design is still rough, but the concept feels strong. Practical, but stylish.
As I sit back with my iced tea, I study the lines of the sketch, debating whether to alter the placement of the adjustable seams. My focus is broken by my cell phone vibrating on the table.
I answer it without checking the caller ID. “Hello, this is Alexis.”
“Hey! Glad I caught you.”
I freeze at the sound of Travis’s voice, momentarily stunned. I haven’t heard from him since we ran into him at the bookstore and Gabriel chased him away.
“I’m sure you’re busy,” he continues. “I’ve heard about your project. It’s been getting a bit of buzz. I just read about it yesterday in LA Style.”
“Uh huh,” I say faintly, not sure how to respond. Part of me thinks I should just hang up, but a bigger part of me is conditioned not to. That would be rude, after all. “Um. Why are you calling?”
“I wanted to congratulate you,” he says.
I bite my lip. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I want to be polite, but I also have no interest in getting sucked into a conversation with Travis. I clear my throat and say, “Well, if that’s all—”
He cuts me off. “Actually, that’s… that’s not all. You got me.”
I sit in silence for a few seconds before speaking. “Okay. So what’s this about?”
“You, Alexis.” He sighs. His breath rattles over the line.
“M-me?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I can’t get you out of my head.”
Oh, god. I need to figure out what to say to stop him, to end this call without being nasty. Something. Anything. But nothing comes to mind.
“I called because I have to be honest,” he continues. “With you, and with myself. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been, you know?”
No. The word dries up on my tongue. My voice refuses to cooperate with me.
“Things should’ve worked out differently. I get the sense that you know what I’m talking about.” He pauses. “That you feel it too.”
“Travis,” I say quietly, shifting in my seat. “I d-don’t know what you’re expecting from this conversation, b-but—”
“Just hear me out,” he interrupts. “Please.”
I go silent, not out of a willingness to hear him out, but out of fear. Fear of what he’ll say if I shut him down. To me, or about me.
“It wasn’t fair to you, your parents pulling the plug like that. You don’t deserve to be saddled with some old guy and his kid.”
A sudden flare of anger rises in my core, cutting through the nerves that have kept me silent. “Stop,” I say sharply, my voice stronger than I expected. “You don’t get to talk about my life like that. About them like that. He’s not old. And she’s a great kid.”
“Alexis, listen—”
“No,” I snap. There’s no holding back now. “I’m lucky to be in Peyton’s life. And Gabriel… he’s a good man.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. I can practically hear him struggling for a response, but I’m not going to wait for it to come.
“You don’t know him,” I continue, my words spilling out faster now. “You don’t know anything about him—or me. So stop pretending like you have some right to comment on my life.”
“I wasn’t commenting,” he says, disbelief in his tone. “I’m just saying you could’ve had more. You don’t have to settle—”
“Enough!” The word bursts out of me, loud enough that a few people in the coffee shop glance over. My cheeks burn, and I lower my voice to hiss at him, “Thanks for your honesty, but I’m happy with how things turned out.”
“Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No. I’m just not interested in you.”
Before he can respond, I hang up the phone. My heart is racing, the blood pounding in my ears so loud it drowns out the quiet hum of the coffee shop around me. I stare at the phone in my hand for a moment, half expecting it to light up with another call from him, but it remains dormant.
Did that just happen? Did I just say that?
He was so brazen, coming on to a married woman like that. I take a deep breath, shakily sipping my tea. The anger that drove me to snap at him is gone, replaced by an unsettled feeling in my gut.
I don’t want to be so upset by that call, but I can’t help it. I’m rattled. There was something about his tone, about the way he spoke like he had some kind of right to weigh in on my life. The way he talked about Gabriel and Peyton as if they were obstacles rather than people.
You didn’t say anything wrong. You had every right to shut him down. I repeat the mantra in my head, trying to steady myself. You didn’t do anything wrong.
Since I was a child, I’ve struggled with confrontation. I’ve spent years trying to please people, and it’s taught me to avoid conflict, ingrained in me an instinct to keep the peace. Now, in the aftermath of my own anger, I can’t help the rush of shame.
But Travis cornered me. He left me no choice. And, okay, I’ll admit it, he pissed me off with his comment about Gabriel.
I glance down at the sketchbook still open on the table. The jacket design I’ve been working on now looks half-formed, the lines hesitant and incomplete. I felt so good about it before Travis called. Now, I’m shaken, my rhythm interrupted.
I need to see Gabriel.
When I can’t stop second-guessing myself, when I feel like everything I do is wrong, he’s the person I want to talk to. He steadies me. Calms me. Helps me think. Just being near him is enough to quiet the noise in my head.
I gather my things, sliding my sketchbook into my bag and grabbing the last bite of my lemon cake. My tea is nearly empty, but I take it anyway. It’s another thing to hold on to.
I call a car to take me downtown to the Thorne Enterprises building.
The ride feels both too long and not long enough.
I don’t know what to say to him, only that I need to see him.
I try to put together an explanation in my head for my visit as the car rolls down palm-lined streets, but I’ve got nothing.
He might be angry. What if he’s angry? Oh, god, I shouldn’t have answered that call. I should’ve checked…
The doorman at Thorne Enterprises greets me with a polite nod as I step out of the car. I head straight up to the top floor, where the executives’ offices are located.
The elevator is packed when I step inside, but slowly, the throng of people thins out as it stops at other floors.
I hide my face from the curious stares of Thorne Enterprises employees.
I’m not the best at hiding how I’m feeling, and the last thing I want is to stir up gossip.
I’m sure everyone who works here knows who I am by now, even if I haven’t been around the office much.
When the doors slide open, I make a beeline for Gabriel’s office. His secretary looks up as I approach, her eyes narrowing when she sees it’s me.
She starts to lift a hand, to open her mouth, but I brush past her without pausing. I don’t have the patience for her to hold me up like she always does.
I push Gabriel’s door open.
He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at me in surprise. In front of him, occupying the two chairs across from the desk, are a pair of men in tailored suits. They stop talking when I walk in, eyes darting between me and Gabriel.
Shit. He’s in a meeting. I didn’t even pause to check with his secretary. I’d assumed she would shoo me away regardless.
“Alexis,” Gabriel says, recovering from his surprise. He clears his throat.
Heat surges through my cheeks. I feel foolish.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Thorne,” says Gabriel’s secretary from behind me. She sounds smug. “I tried to stop her.”
I swallow hard, taking a tiny step back, as if I could somehow undo the intrusion. “I… I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just—”
“No,” Gabriel says.
I go still, my breath suspended in my lungs.
Without even sparing a glance at the two businessmen, Gabriel speaks in a calm but commanding tone. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to speak with my wife.”
The two men exchange surprised glances, their faces shifting from polite interest to confusion. One of them clears his throat and opens his mouth, perhaps to protest, but Gabriel doesn’t give him the chance.
“I apologize,” Gabriel says, although his voice lacks the usual sincerity of an apology. “But this is urgent.”
The two businessmen glance at each other, clearly taken aback. One of them opens his mouth again, but Gabriel cuts him off with a sharp look.
“We’ll resume our meeting when I’m finished here.”
The men nod quickly, standing to gather their things. They don’t argue further. As they brush past me into the hall, they shoot me curious looks. Gabriel’s secretary looks as though she’s tasted something sour, but she knows better than to push him. She closes the door, leaving the two of us alone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper into the silence that descends. “It’s not actually urgent.”
“What’s wrong?” There’s concern in his gaze.
“Nothing. I swear, it’s nothing. We can talk about it later, when—”