Page 53 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
“I love you too.”Don’t go.
We were both crying, two drunk girls hugging each other tight and holding each other up as we vowed to be best friends, through thick and thin, forever and ever.
“I think you should just go for it,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen? At least you’ll get some good sex out of the deal.”
Just the incentive I needed. A reminder that Annika slept with him first.
When we got home after a double order of Disco Fries and cocktails at Odessa, Annika flopped onto the sofa and looked around the living room, squinting at the wall across from her. “Were our walls always this dirty?”
I fell onto the sofa, laughing.
After all the water damage, I painted the walls charcoal gray. It looked like a battleship but the paint was on sale, and it covered the brown stains so I’d just have to get used to it.
Four days later, Annika and I said our goodbyes at JFK. I deserved a medal for keeping my tone upbeat and my smile firmly in place.
“Go,” I urged when we’d lingered too long and had hugged goodbye at least half a dozen times, claiming thatThis is it, the last hug, this is really goodbye this timeonly to go back in for another hug. “Destiny is calling you. You have a plane to catch.”
“Love you,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll call you as soon as I get settled in.”
I threw her a kiss then stood in the busy departures terminal and watched her get swallowed up in the crowd.
When she disappeared from view, my smile slipped. It felt like the end of an era.
I returned to the city alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My design sampleswere ready at the end of April.
I picked them up in the Garment District and hopped into a taxi with my precious cargo on the seat next to me. Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on the front door of the boutique.
Simone had already locked up for the night, but she was expecting me.
“Come in, come in. They’re here!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She sounded as excited as I was. “Aren’t Kim and Celeste a dream to work with?”
“They’re the best.” Simone knew everyone in the design industry and had pointed me in the direction of the most skilled, reliable, and creative pattern makers and seamstresses in the business. “And you’re my fairy godmother for recommending them.”
I followed her to the stockroom and shoved aside some clothes on a rack to make room for mine while Simone sat in a hot pink chair that looked like Mick Jagger’s lips and waited for the private viewing.
Now that the time had come for the grand reveal, my palms were sweaty as I removed the plastic wrap protecting the fabrics.
“Wait! Why don’t you model them for me?”
The samples were a size 4. I preferred to wear my clothesat leasta size up.
But I wanted to impress my mentor, so I retreated to the dressing rooms and squeezed into the first outfit. Merlot velvet bell-bottoms with a dyed lace V-neck top bound by a wide satin sash with a silk flower. The bell sleeves were trimmed in faux fur in a rich plummy purple.
The pants were a bit tight around the ass and I had to suck in my stomach and hold my breath but when I did a quick spin in front of the mirror, I nearly keeled over with joy.
The fabrics felt luxurious, the jewel tones would suit a lot of different skin tones, and the tailoring was impeccable.
I designed this.
I sauntered into the stockroom, doing my best impersonation of a model on the catwalk and struck various poses to show off the designs from every angle.
Simone was the perfect audience. She oohed and ahhed every time I modeled a new piece from my first fall/winter collection.
A moody floral babydoll dress. A poet’s blouse with a cropped wool jacket and high-waisted trousers with silver studs running down the outside seams. And a peacock blue satin Old Hollywood glamour dress with a tulle cardigan.
