Page 6 of Love Redesigned
“And by you, you actually meanme,” I said, my tone flat.
He reached over and smacked me on the knee. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
I scoffed. The salary he paid me was plenty, but it barely compared to what I’d made working at LeFranc.
Though, I’d take Isaac over my stepfather for a boss any day. At least he had a measurable sense of integrity.
Thinking of LeFranc brought Dani back into my mind and I tensed, realizing all over again that I would have to share a table with her at dinner. I had to think of a way to warn her. If she showed up to the restaurant expecting her brother, and I was there too, she might leave.
That wasn’t what Isaac needed, and I realized with alarming clarity, it wasn’t what Iwanted.
I pressed my forehead into my hand. She’d looked amazing when I’d run into her. She’d been wearing blue. I’d always loved it when she wore blue, making her eyes explode with color. And then when she’d spilled all that coffee down her dress, her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment and...
I ran a hand across my face, an attempt to wipe the image of her from my mind. It didn’t work, nor did it remove the guilt I felt that she’d wound up in such a mess in the first place. It hadn’t been my fault—not directly anyway. But Iwasthe man she’d been running away from.
When the cab pulled up in front of the hotel, I followed Isaac out of the car, but then paused on the sidewalk. A flower shop with a deep blue awning and a bright pink sign sat right next to the hotel.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Isaac. And then I went inside.
Chapter Three
Dani
“What, did they make youbrewthe coffee yourself?” Sasha’s words were biting when I finally made it back to her office, coffee in hand. I handed over her cup.
“Sorry. There was a...long line,” I said.
“At eleven-thirty in the morning? I find that hard to believe.” She took a long sip of her macchiato. “At least it’s still warm.”
I swallowed a sarcastic retort. What was with her? Her mood had been declining over the past few weeks, to the point that it felt like she always had something to be upset about.
“What happened to your dress?” Sasha asked.
I looked down, embarrassment flooding my cheeks all over again. She was lucky one of the coffees that had survived had been hers. “Someone ran into me on the way out of the coffee shop. It was an accident.”
“Ugh.” Her lips turned down in disgust. “Well you can’t work looking like that.”
I glanced again at my dress, pulling it away from my skin. Ireallywasn’t loving the stickiness inside my bra.
“I’d say go find something in the sample room, but...” Sasha hesitated, looking me up and down. “With your curves, I’m not sure anything will fit.”
Nice.“I’ll figure something out,” I said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “Sasha, are you okay? You seem...agitated.”
She gave me a dismissive wave and moved to sit down behind her desk. “I’m fine,” she said irritably. “It’s just been a long morning.”
“Okay. Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Actually before you go, Dani, there is one thing.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Do you remember the navy dress? The one with the fabric issue? Isabelle called this morning and it’s not going to work. For all her experience, she can’t seem to make the back-zipper seam lay flat. She says it keepspuckering.”
So that’s why Sasha was in a bad mood. Changing the fabric had been her idea. I’d designed the dress, but since I wasn’t a real designer, she usually took my designs and tweaked them to make them hers. I didn’t love the arrangement, but it was all part of the process. Paying my dues. Proving to Sasha I had what it took to design. I was close, too. She’d been dropping hints lately about me being ready for the design team.
Just the same, Sasha didn’t love it when it looked like I knew more about clothes than she did. Which was why the fabric puckering would always be Isabelle’s fault and not hers. It didn’t help that I’d known the fabric switch wasn’t going to work and had told Sasha as much. The fabric I’d used in the prototype was a thicker knit, with just enough stretch for ease of movement, but with much more structure.
The charmeuse she’d swapped it for was meant to drape loosely, softly. It wasnotmeant for box pleats. But Sasha had refused to take my advice, demanding we create an additional sew-by in the charmeuse. The sew-by sample was the most important one, acting as a gauge for what the piece would require in production and how much it would cost. If Isabelle—the best seamstress at LeFranc—couldn’t get a sample made correctly? There was no way the piece could go to manufacturing.
