Page 35 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
I bring back our topics to his work. “So you mostly attend meetings all day? That sounds stressful.”
“I know,” he says with a chuckle. “Besides the shareholders and managers, I must deal with the government and the media as well. Oh, I should get to know my employees and customers more, but I simply can’t make the time.”
“Sounds like you’re very busy. No wonder I seldom see you,” I say and instantly regret it. Did I just give myself away and tell him I missed him?
While I blush, he turns to look at me right away with intense eyes. “Did you want to see me?”
“Oh no,” I deny the fact quickly. “I mean, I do think about you…sometimes.”
He smirks at me without a word for a moment. “How are other things?” he asks. “Seeing anyone?”
“What?” I laugh nervously. “No.”
He gazes at me with smoldering eyes for a moment, making me flushed all over. For a second, I think he is going to lean in to kiss me, and my heart pounds in anticipation. But he looks away and ends the moment. My God. I have to pull myself together. I nearly made a fool of myself.The fake relationship game is over!I remind myself.
We arrive at the Metropolitan Pavilion at two. As expected, the showroom was crowded, and we had to maneuver through.
I’m no stranger to trade shows. Other kids’ parents take them to parks and museums over the weekends while my dad took me to fabric shows. It was probably the reason I love going to fabric stores more than clothing stores. To me, my dad was a magician who turned plain fabrics into stylish clothes. My imagination naturally goes wild when I’m among the colorful materials that promise infinite possibilities. I feel like a child at an amusement park.
The fabrics at the show are all in accordance with next year’s trends, namely sheer silk, cotton, or nylon. Brilliant prints are also in style. Soon I forget I’m working. “Look, Alex,” I say, pointing at a table. “These African-print silk fabrics are so beautiful!”
“Yes, they are. What do you have in mind?” he asks as he fingers the material.
“Shirts, skirts, dresses…” I gush. “Anything. But dresses will work. Short, cocktail dresses. They’ll look less formal, perfect for a summer party.”
He frowns a bit. “Are you sure? It seems too gaudy to me.”
True. Trend’s styles target mature women and normally use muted fabrics. “Do you mind if I made a purchase just for personal use?” I ask.
“Not at all. Go ahead,” Alex says. “I’ll go over to check out the sustainable fabric booth right over there.”
I have trouble deciding which one to pick and end up getting three different designs. I’m not sure what to make of them yet, but I’ll think about it later.
It takes me nearly ten minutes. After I make the purchase, I head for the booth Alex is at.
I stop in my tracks when I notice Alex is speaking to a tall woman. Trisha.
What the hell is she doing here? She’s a model, not a designer. And then I recall she has a clothing line under Trend. But she still doesn’t have to be here. Is she stalking Alex?
I think of turning away because my stomach is in knots now. I’m not Alex’s real fiancée, and I have no right to be jealous of any woman he’s with, but I still can’t stand the sight of the two being together. The conversation between Trisha and Samantha on the day of the engagement party replays in my head, and it still hurts.
While I’m hesitating and thinking whether I should just wait where I am, Alex sees me and waves at me. I have no choice but to walk toward them. I look at the labels of the products as I approach the counter. These are recycled silk, cotton, or rayon. They’re relatively new, and I can see Alex is interested in them. Some big brands like H&M and Levi’s already use them even though production costs are pretty high.
Trisha gives me a tight nod and resumes her conversation with Alex. “I think I’ll give the recycled silk a try. It’s a bit more expensive, but it’s environmentally friendly and I’m sure our customers will appreciate it.”
Alex nods. “Sure. I agree. Give it a try.”
“I’m not that thrilled with the colors, though. My brand is for middle-age women who prefer muted colors,” she gushes while going through the textiles.
The colors are quite vibrant for sure, and I like them, but then, it isn’t my place to express my opinions, so I keep quiet.
Trisha glances at my hand casually. “Why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring?”
Shit. I can’t believe she notices that.
Not knowing what to say, I look up at Alex for help.
“We’re keeping it a secret for now,” he says calmly. “I’m planning to invite friends and business associates to a party in my condo soon, and I’ll make an announcement then.”
