Page 44 of Miles Apart
If you say so.
“How was New York?”
“Great.” I reach for my white wine to wash down acting thirsty over a man. “The Rustin show was gorgeous, Jay. My collection complemented Kojo’s effortlessly.”
Pride purses her mouth. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve taken Soie to new heights. How’s that new idea coming along?”
A smile blooms on my lips. “I’m playing around with a few concepts.”
It’s been a dream of mine to make our garments more accessible through a ready-to-wear collection. Justice doesn’t know it, but she’s my muse. I want to design a line for extraordinary women who don’t recognize the authority they wield with their sexual empowerment.
Lingerie is more than an accessory for sex. There’s a confidence that comes with knowing you’re the shit, that your body is worthy of love and praise. That’s what I want for femmes: to lean into their power, revel in the uniqueness of their form, and embrace their sexiness.
“Whatever it is will be incredible. Shit!” Justice hops up in a rush and barely avoids knocking over what’s left of her mimosa. “It’s almost eight. I gotta get ready for work. What time is it there?”
I check my watch. “Close to three.”
Justice takes the phone to the kitchen and leans it on the paper towel holder on the island. “Oh, nice!” Her white oversized shirt rushes past the camera as she hurries to the sink with her dishes. If there’s one thing Justice will do on autopilot, it’s worry.
“Jay, slow down!” I dip my head to keep from cracking up in the café. “Don’t act like you didn’t lay out your outfit the night before.”
She stops, and we bust out laughing. If only the people at her job could see their VP of marketing spinning in circles. Justice has her quirks, but she wears her heart on her sleeve, and she’s the best friend anyone could ask for.
“Let me get out of here so you can enjoy your day.” She catches her breath and chuckles. “Happy Galentine’s Day, Em. There’s a gift waiting for you at your hotel.”
A twinge of guilt hits me in the chest. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Not necessary.” She waves a hand. “You’re traveling, and you know I do the most. Besides,” she smiles, “I have everything I need.”
Terrence had movers ready to pack up Justice’s studio the minute they touched down in Austin. He missed his wife and wasted no time rectifying the situation. She’s back in the home they once shared, the corner house he bought her after she saw it on a walk.
I wasn’t expecting her to call since they reconciled, but Justice will never miss the chance to show she cares. She’s a walking Hallmark card when she’s not freaking herself out.
“Thank you for the gift,” I say and toss her a smile. I wish I was more sentimental, but it’s not in my DNA.
“Cut the guilt. Gifts aremything, remember? Go enjoy Italy—and send me photos!”
“Love you, girl.”
“Love you too.”
“Salute.”
“Salute.“ I take the negroni from the bartender. Gin isn’t my liquor of choice, but when in Milan.
The bar is quiet, with only a handful of patrons sidling up to the polished mahogany bar that spans the length of the narrow room. Suspended chandeliers set on a low glow illuminate the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, which hold the finest liquor.
I smile down at Justice’s gift on top of my hotel key card. It’s a camera roll keychain with five tiny photos of us over the years.
Homecoming.
A random sleepover.
College graduation.
Our trip to Paris.
A selfie from last month’s singles’ retreat.
