Page 68 of Make The Cut

“Like what?”

“Can we just drop it, Poppy?” He lets go of my hand to shift the car into park. “We’re here.”

My heart throbs in my chest. I know it’s a sensitive subject for him, but he just said that so abruptly. So dismissively. “I’m not Rose.”

“What?” He turns to me, confusion written in his furrowed eyebrows beneath his messy black hair. “Poppy, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not Rose or any of your other exes,” I say again, my heart racing. “I don’t want a surface-level relationship with you where we never talk about anything that matters. I want to respect your boundaries, but sometimes it feels like… there’s a wall up between us, and I’m going to be butting up against it forever.”

“Poppy,” he says tenderly. “Red. This isn’t surface-level to me. What we have… It’s the most raw, vulnerable piece of my heart. And I’ve shared that with you. I know you want me to open up more, but I just need… I just need some time.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat and drowning out the voice in my head that screams that he’s lying, that he’s going to hurt me, that I need to wait for the other shoe to drop. I’ve spent so long being scared of relationships and sabotaging mine with basically everyone that I’ve forgotten how it feels to actually let someone in, and how terrifying that can be. Of course he needs time. “I get it.”

As we walk into the small Chinese restaurant above a karaoke place, Naoya holds open the door for me and we walk toward the table where his mom is already sitting. No one recognizes Naoya, thankfully, but I can’t help but feel like I’m drawing attention to us as my chair screeches against the floor.

Rhoda is ticking things off on a dim sum order sheet before passing the pencil and paper to her son. “Ah, good, you’re here. I was worried you guys got lost.”

“Never.” Naoya slides my chair back into the table for me. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

As the food arrives and we begin eating, I tentatively use the chopsticks skills that Naoya taught me at the sushi restaurant, marvelling at how long ago that feels even though it was almost a month ago. A few weeks ago, I never would have imagined that Naoya would have ever kissed me. After all, for all intents and purposes, he was in a relationship with someone else—or at the very least, in a ‘flirtationship’ as the tabloids called it—and a gorgeous supermodel, to boot.

But the shrimp dumpling I’ve just eaten lodges in my throat as I consider an alarming possibility that inches toward coming true: that Ryder will find out about our relationship.

And that he’ll ruin it, the same way I’ve ruined his life.

* * *

Colette Olivier is a lot of things, but reckless isn’t one of them.

Though she may be impulsive, whimsical, and creative, she knows what she’s doing with a sewing machine and she definitely has a better head for business than I do.

Even though her business idea of us working together on a fashion house was a spur-of-the-moment decision, I’ve known her long enough now over the past few months to know that she wouldn’t make me that offer if she didn’t mean it.

And unlike Rose, if I accept her invitation of a job, I won’t be forced to worry about the strings attached.

I take a deep breath as I press on the intercom button to her apartment building. “Colie?”

“Poppy! I’ll tell the doorman to let you in,” she says, sounding faintly out of breath.

Moments later, the door swings open and I’m in her small, shabby-chic furnished apartment. She Frenchified the place, adding a ceiling medallion, gilt-framed mirror, and kept the original crown moulding. The entire ambience sets me at ease.

“I’ve been thinking about the business idea you proposed,” I say once she’s settled me with a cup of herbal tea—she refused my request for espresso considering it’s four in the afternoon, but that was probably for the best since I’d been drinking tea all day—and we’re sitting on two recliners in the tiny living room.

“And? What’s your decision?” Her green eyes light up and she leans forward, the flickering ceiling light casting a soft yellow glow on her smattering of freckles.

“I’ve decided to say yes.” I grin, the words feeling right when I say them. Even if I’m scared of this failing, or that it won’t work out, I know I’d regret it more if I never tried. If I never stepped out from the cloying, suffocating world ofLa Modeor Rose McCartney’s shadow and tried to do my own thing.

“Yay!” She sets down her cup of tea and flings her arms around me. I thankfully had the foresight to put mine on the coffee table, and hug her back. “I’m so excited. We’re going to do great things together, Poppy. Just you wait.”

I smile and we launch into a frenzied conversation about colours, fabrics, and spring collections.

But deep down, I feel guilty.

I sabotaged Naoya’s career, even if by accident. Now I’m moving on and doing my own thing, striking out with Colette.

But what about him?

Chapter Thirty-Three: Naoya Sugawa

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