Page 10 of Love Redesigned
He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “How’s your dating life?”
“My dating life?”
“Sure. You met anyone new?”
“Chase, what is going on?”
“Why don’tyoutellmewhat’s going on?”
I shot him a look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He looked for Mylie one more time, then leaned forward, leaning his elbows onto my desk. “Spill it, Dani. Who’s the man?”
I echoed his movements, leaning forward so our faces were barely a foot apart. “What man?”
He threw his hands in the air and sighed. “Gah. You’re impossible.”
Seconds later, Mylie, LeFranc’s receptionist, rounded the corner, a long, thin box in her hands. When she saw Chase, her smile dropped. “Seriously? You had to run ahead and tell her?”
Chase smiled innocently. “Tell her what? We were just chatting.” He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, revealing his socks—bright pink and yellow paisley. It made me smile.
As a gay man in his twenties, living in New Yorkandworking in fashion, Chase almost had a moral obligation to be respectably fashionable himself. His look wasn’t flashy at all—very tailored, very clean—but his socks were reliably colorful, a pop of something to echo the color of his tie, or the pinstripe of his vest.
As a designer, Chase’s eye for color was his greatest strength. He was a master at pulling out accent colors, adding just the right something to make pieces work. For the other designers, it was maddening. How he could look at a piece and say with astounding conviction, “It needs turquoise,” or, “Cut the yellow and add peach instead.” The smart ones listened to him. As long as I’d known him, he’d never steered me wrong.
Mylie huffed and dropped the box onto my desk. “These were delivered for you, Dani.” She eyed the card.
I didn’t move from my chair. Just sat there, my arms folded across my chest. “Thanks.”
She tapped her toe impatiently. “Aren’t you going to read the card?”
I was completely baffled as to who might have sent me flowers, but there was no way I was going to satisfy Mylie’s insatiable need to know everyone else’s business. I lifted my shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t need to open it. My dad sends me flowers on my birthday every year. I know they’re from him.”
“Oh,” Mylie said, making no effort to conceal her disappointment. “That’s not very exciting.” She turned and walked back toward her desk.
“Your birthday’s not for another three weeks,” Chase said.
I reached for the card. “But Mylie doesn’t know that.”
He grinned. “Then thereissomething you need to tell me.”
“I swear there’s nothing to tell! Your guess is as good as mine as to who these are from.” I slid the square card out of its envelope. The paper was thick cardstock, with a tiny satin trim.
“Fancy,” Chase said over my shoulder.
“Seriously? I can’t even read it first?”
“Fine, fine,” he huffed. He took a step back but arched his neck like he was still trying to see.
Dani—I feel responsible for what happened at the coffee shop. I know flowers can’t replace your dress. Hopefully they can brighten your day. I want you to know I’ll be at dinner tonight with you and Isaac. I didn’t want you to be blindsided. –Alex PS. I hope this is enough to cover the dry cleaning.
Two twenty-dollar bills fluttered to my lap, but I hardly noticed them.
I handed Chase the card and sank back into my chair.Alexwould be at dinner?
How? Why?
“Wait, is thisAlexAlex? Your Alex?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “LeFranc’s Alex?”
