Chapter Twenty One
I begin work on Zoe’s dress immediately.
I have to admit, the project has been slightly soured (even more than it already was), but I strive to put my opinions aside and get this garment made. It’s a job like any other, and sometimes, you have to work with people you find immoral and unpleasant. But that’s life, isn’t it? Her upcoming nuptials have nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.
The silk chiffon is a finicky fabric to work with, easily snagged and hard to hem neatly, but I’ve plenty of experience working with it, and I manage to craft the basic beginnings of the skirt that will grace Zoe’s gown.
My fingers are sore from being pricked with needles and pins over and over, and my wrists ache terribly, but there’s a limited amount of time. The wedding is in less than three months, and Zoe can’t walk down the aisle in her bra and knickers.
Knock-knock-knock!
My heart almost leaps out of my chest, and I jerk my head toward the front door. I blink at the sight of Kit gawping through the window, his nose pressed up against the glass like a cheeky little kid.
Well, that’s a sight I didn’t expect to see at half seven on a Saturday evening!
‘It’s me, open up!’ he calls out.
Frantic, I cover the fabric with both hands.
‘Wait!’ I cry. ‘Close your eyes!’
I scramble to gather the materials, sketches and the mannequin in one swoop and shove it all haphazardly into a corner of the studio in the back. With slightly more composure than two seconds prior, I fumble with the key in the lock and eventually, it clicks into place and opens.
‘What was all that about?’ Kit chuckles as he steps inside. The irresistible, savoury aroma of Chinese food wafts from the greasy paper bag in his hand, and my mouth begins to water uncontrollably. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and that was just a chicken wrap I picked up from the deli on the way back from Zoe’s appointment.
‘I couldn’t let you see the bride’s dress,’ I explain, locking the door behind him.
‘Ah, she’s decided on what she wants, then?’
‘Yes, finally.’ I heave a weary sigh. ‘So, what can I do for you? Didn’t you see the ‘Closed’ sign on the door?’
With an arch grin, Kit shrugs. ‘I just wanted to see how you were getting on, I know Zoe can be a little difficult and I had a feeling she might have given you a hard time. You don’t have to be a psychic to figure out that you two aren’t exactly friends.’
Damn, I thought I’d done a fabulous job of hiding my true feelings. Maybe Zoe’s been bitching about me to him, it certainly wouldn’t surprise me.
My mouth contorts into something that I hope resembles a smile. ‘She was fine.’
‘Well, she seemed in a decent mood when I came back from work, so you must have done something right.’ He winks. ‘She headed back to London about an hour ago, I thought she was going to stay for the whole weekend, but I guess her plans changed.’
I bite down on my lip, if only to keep from spouting what I heard of Zoe’s phone call. I mean, who knows what I heard? It was only one part of the conversation, maybe it was all completely innocent. Perhaps she really was chatting to a mate, some girls call each other ‘baby’ … don’t they?
The stuff about selling the house, however, is much less easy to explain away.
Kit places the bag on the desk and continues, ‘Anyway, I bumped into Lucy at the shops and she said you were working late, so I thought you might need some sustenance.’
Warmth pools across my cheeks and I dip my chin to my chest. ‘That’s really sweet of you.’
Cross-legged on the shop floor, we snarf down noodles and sweet and sour pork straight out of the containers, only pausing to let out little mmms of appreciation.
‘I’m not sure if it’s because I’m starving hungry, but this is hands down the best Chinese takeaway I’ve ever had,’ I murmur as I slurp up a particularly long noodle.
‘I might be biased, but I’d have to agree,’ Kit comments. ‘I’ve been getting Chinese from Mr Wú since I was a little kid. I was practically raised on his chicken chow mein.’
‘So, how are you feeling about the wedding?’ I tread softly. ‘I only ask because Zoe seemed a little … despondent today.’
Today, and every other time we’ve had an appointment scheduled.
His brows meet in the middle. ‘Despondent?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, like she wasn’t really that interested in talking about it.’
‘That’s strange, it’s all she’s wanted to discuss with me lately. She’s so excited about it.’
Either Kit has a very weak grasp of the word ‘excited’, or Zoe is putting on a show for him. My money’s on the latter.
As if it’s no big deal, I shrug it off. ‘Perhaps she was just having an off day.’
Pensively, he prods at his food with a fork. ‘Yeah, she has a lot of those.’
Tentatively, I edge closer. ‘Is - is everything okay? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but-’
‘It’s fine. It’s just I wish she and Tanya got on better. It’s weird, Zoe’s sweet and kind but sometimes I catch them in the middle of an argument and it’s like I’m looking at a totally different person.’
‘Ah.’
That’s because you are!
The words are dying to come out, but I keep them trapped behind my gritted teeth.
‘Tanya means everything to me, Zoe knows that. She’s always saying she can’t wait to be her big sister, but then in the same breath, she’s bossing Tan around and snapping at her.’
I mither with my food, conflicted. Is it really my place to tell Kit that his fianceé is a big fat faker?
‘Maybe the wedding planning is just stressing her out?’ I suggest lamely.
‘Maybe.’
We finish up our meal in silence, and yet, it’s not awkward at all. Rather, it’s peaceful, comfortable, there’s no need to fill the gaps in conversation as we enjoy our food, and each other’s company.
Once every noodle has been slurped up and there’s nothing left but smears of sauce and a couple of crumbs, Kit stuffs the empty containers back in the bag and ties the top shut.
‘I better get rid of this, before your entire boutique smells like chow mein.’
‘Ugh yes, please do!’ I stand up and brush tiny strands of rice from my lap. ‘Anyway, thanks for the food. You know, you’re much less of a jerk than you let on.’
He presses a finger to his lips. ‘I know, but don’t tell anyone.’
‘Idiot.’ I giggle as I treat him to a token punch to the shoulder.
As he leaves, I find myself resting against the door frame, watching his silhouette shrink into the twilight and out of sight. Underneath the moody, brooding facade, he’s a little puppy dog, so caring and sensitive to the feelings of others.
I snap back to reality with an uncomfortable realisation - I’m daydreaming over another woman’s fiancé. Not only that, but said woman is a client of mine - I’m making her wedding dress for God’s sake!
I slam the door shut, leaving those forbidden thoughts out in the cold. Well, it’s actually a sweltering summer evening, but you get the point.
Shaking my head hard enough to see stars, I wander aimlessly into the studio at the back of the boutique. I almost walk straight into the mannequin wearing Zoe’s dress, or at least the beginnings of her dress. I scowl up at the dummy’s blank face. Zoe doesn’t know how lucky she is - well, she does , but it’s not Kit she feels fortunate for, rather what his generational wealth can bring her.
Kit needs someone who understands him, someone who will love Tanya just as much as he does. Someone for whom family is everything, and who knows how precious time together is, because you never know when it might disappear. I can relate - as someone who grew up away from my beloved father and only was able to spend short pockets of time with him throughout the year, I treasured every long weekend, every holiday, every glorious summer.
My tummy lurches and I turn away from the mannequin, defeated. Kit needs someone like that, but he’s got Zoe, and nothing will change that. Nothing should change that, they’re about to be husband and wife, and I’m no homewrecker. Nope, I’ve just got to suck it up, finish this wedding dress and move on with my life. If Zoe gets her way, she and Kit will be out of here the moment she slips the ring on his finger, and I’ll never see him again. It’s for the best, I know, and yet, the sharp sting in my chest is hard to ignore.
‘It’s okay, Lottie.’ I hug myself tight, fingers leaving dark marks on my arms. ‘It’s nothing more than a stupid crush. It will pass.’
As I get back to work on the gown I repeat those sage words over and over, certain that if I say them enough, they’ll stick. Though they taste bitter on my tongue and sound hollow in the quiet of the empty boutique, I force myself to believe blindly in them, if only to spare my heart from the inevitable break it’s soon to experience.
It will pass, it will pass, it will pass …