Page 18 of Free to Believe
“You don’t have to look out for her at all, Jacob. All you have to do is make certain the apartment above the garage is in working order,” Dani says irritably. “Emily is certainly able to look out for herself.”
“If that’s the case, then why is she coming here?” I counter.
“She’s very…self-contained. I don’t even know the full story. Yet. Have a good day, cousin.” She moves her hand to disconnect.
“Hey, wait. When is she coming?” I yell frantically before she can press the red telephone icon ending our call.
“Anytime now. I left her arrival open for her.”
“And a pain in the ass for me? How generous of you,” I bite out.
“Whatever works. See you soon.” She hangs up before I can say anything else.
If my phone hadn’t just been replaced, I’d throw it across the room. Instead, I slam my hands back on the ivory and black keys in front of me and pick up where I left off. Chopin was certainly getting a workout tonight.
10
Emily
“Iwish you’d kept the ring,” Holly grumbles. She’s sitting on my bed watching me pack.
“Why? I don’t need a tangible reminder of that asshole in my life.” I’m holding a pile of carefully folded shirts that I place in my Coach duffle bag. “What the hell kind of clothing am I going to need on Nantucket?” I gripe aloud.
Holly shrugs. “It’s an island, Em. Beachwear?”
I frown. “It’s an island off the coast of Massachusetts, Hols. It’s not exactly the tropics.”
Holly flops back on my bed and pulls out her phone. Letting out a screech, she exclaims, “Holy shit, Em! How are you supposed to get a tan? If it hits eighty, you’ll be lucky.”
Mentally adding a few sweaters and jeans to my ever-growing pile of clothes, I head back to my closet. “Do you think I’ll need a dress for anything?” I call out.
“For what? The island is mostly casual, isn’t it?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I grumble. “I’ve never been there.” I come out with three pairs of Tieks—only the best ballet flats on the planet—and a stack of leggings in every color imaginable. “I wish you guys would come with me.”
Holly’s face softens. Rolling off the bed, she comes to me and wraps her arms around me. “I wish we could. Maybe we can come up for some of the time once wedding season starts to slow down a bit.”
I lean into her. “I feel like I’m deserting you all.”
“Em, most of your work is done. Your brides all picked out their dresses months ago. Yes, it sucks you won’t be here for the fittings, but we hired a seamstress to cover for you. You need to get away to deal with everything. It hasn’t been an easy few weeks for you.”
No, it hasn’t.
Between finding out about Bryan’s infidelity, breaking my engagement, and suing the designer who was reproducing my designs from the sketches Bryan gave them, my nerves are completely shot.
And that was before I received a phone call that could change my life.
The CEO and president of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, Inc., Wesley Barnes, called our offices a few days ago. He’d heard through a mutual acquaintance about Amaryllis Designs once again suing over copyright infringement over my designs. While thoroughly disgusted by the events in general, he said if people were willing to steal my work, there must be something worth stealing. After reviewing a portfolio pulled together by his assistant, he was recommending I join fifty other CFDA artists in displaying a collection at Bridal New York Fashion Week.
I fell out of my office chair with a thud.
“Ms. Freeman, in truth, you will be replacing the designer who stole your designs.” I gasped in shock at the way karma was rewarding me. “Our attorneys spoke with your sister. We all find it in our best interest to present a united front in eliminating this individual from the CFDA community swiftly and with consequences.” While I absorbed that, Barnes continued. “You will be taking over his space at the Skylight at Moynihan Station, which has already been reserved. Your company will need to absorb that cost. There’s no time left to make other arrangements. It’s going to be tight enough getting your designs completed as it is.” Pausing, he asked me, “Are you ready to take this next step in your career?”
From my position on the floor, the pride on my family’s faces radiated at me as they all nodded frantically. Cassidy brushed tears from her cheeks. Phil had his arms wrapped around her. They knew from the moment I enrolled at the University of Charleston, this had been my dream. I’d just never believed it could come true. “Yes, sir. I am.”
“The only creative control you will have will be over the presentation of your own designs and your model selection,” he warned me. “Is this how you want your debut to begin?”
“Sir, I just want a chance to prove I can do it. I’ll make it work,” I said confidently at the time.
