Page 114 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince
“Don't make me smack you to bring you back to Earth,” Stella teased. “Just breathe. Come on, you can do it.”
I focused on Stella, consciously working to calm my breathing, but it kept speeding up like an out-of-control runaway train. “They only take so many up-and-comers. We had to fight for this spot.”
The committee for the conference chose ten new designers from the hundreds of submitted applications. It was an incredible honor to be selected. While our booth was small, I was determined to fill every square inch. I’d applied for a spot at the conference six months ago, in anticipation of having investors and a storefront.
When I got the call accepting us, it was with the contingency that we have the minimum amount of product required for acceptance. After discussing it with Burda and Stella, we agreed that the exposure was worth hiring temporary help to get enough pieces completed for the show and to stock our small store.
“And we got it because we deserve it. Your designs are amazing. Once everyone sees the product, they’ll want to order from us.”
In the past four weeks, I’d gotten very little sleep. Stella and Burda took over the responsibility of getting our storefront ready as I designed and sewed as many pieces as I could for this event.
Although, the product demand of a new business wasn’t the only reason I didn’t sleep. Too often I turned to my sewing machine for solace as my thoughts strayed to Dean.
I missed him.
While the lack of sleep helped me create an incredible amount of designs to take with us, it was also fueling the panic consuming me. All the worries that crossed my mind and the fear of actually becoming a success came tumbling out at once. “What if there’s too much interest? What if we can’t fulfill the orders we take today?”
“Then we create a buzz. People will wait for something amazing. They will wait for your designs.” Stella looked thoughtful. “I’m sure I can work something into our marketing campaign.”
I gripped her the shoulders. Stella was not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. “Why did I think sewing the motivational sayings by hand was a good idea? It’s just going to slow production down even more."
“Then we hire someone to help. You’re going down a rabbit hole, Ash. Focus on me.” She clutched my face in her hands. “Listen to my voice. Count to five, take a breath in and let it out.” She stopped to let me comply with her demand.
By the time I got down to one, my heart rate slowed and my breaths evened out. “I’m okay. I’ve got this."
At least I hoped I did.
“Come give me a big hug.” Burda walked out of our small shop to where we stood by the truck.
I smiled as the shop’s sign caught my eyes. Inspired. The second the name hit me, I knew that was it.
I’d started a blog journaling my successes and struggles with creating a business. Stella suggested it as a way to connect with customers. In one particular post, I shared with our fans how the name came to be. The wordinspirewas my constant reminder of how Stella and Burda inspired me to believe in myself and my dreams, exactly what I wanted to do for curvy girls with my messages. I’d also shared that my mom creating her own business had inspired me to do the same. It was like combining her entrepreneurial dreams into my own.
It wasn’t the big storefront I’d imagined, but it had enough space for us to sew our creations in the back and sell pieces in the front. The most exciting part was having women in our area volunteer to model our lingerie for advertising. And some of those same women became my inspiration as I modified the bras to better suit all body types.
While my initial ideas were to sell only one-of-a-kind lingerie, I realized I also needed to create staples to offer in various colors and sizes. Another company had incorporated half sizes into their bra choices, and I was working to do the same.
I grabbed Burda and squeezed her. “I love you. You’re the only mother I’ve ever really known. If it wasn’t for you and Stella, I’d never have made it this far. Today is a celebration for all of us.” I blinked rapidly to hold back my tears. I’d cried far too much already.
“Oh, now don’t go makin’ me cry. You know I don’t like my makeup to run,” Burda said with a catch in her voice.
“Ohhh—you’re going to make me cry too.” Stella threw her arms around us and held on tight.
“Your mom would be so proud of you right now.” Burda sniffed.
Tears ran down my cheeks at the mention of my mom. “I hope so.”
“Iknowso, sweet girl.”
“Thanks, Burda.”
She hugged me tighter in response.
“We’re really doing this,” I whispered. My emotions fluctuated like an unpredictable tornado jumping all over the street. Happiness, sadness, excitement, dread. They were all churning inside me.
“We are, and we’re ready. Come on, Ash. We need to go, or we’ll be late.” Stella grabbed the keys out of her back pocket and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Today will be wonderful.” Burda kissed my cheek and grabbed both of my hands in hers. “Your parents are smiling down on you today.”
