Page 55 of Still Here Without You

The closer we get to our fashion show, the busier we become, something I didn’t think was possible. We need to blow people away with this event if we want any chance of being invited to participate in Fashion Week in the fall. Joel and I have spoken a couple more times since I called him to comfort me through my hectic life, but for the last three weeks, it’s been nothing but a few text messages, with our timing for calls never quite syncing up. It’s no one’s fault; it’s just…actually no, it’s definitely my fault. I’ve barely had time to shower, let alone make a call. We are now down to the last two weeks. The home stretch. And I can’t wait.

“Are we celebrating tonight, or what?” my work friend, Rhys, asks as he approaches my desk.

“Celebrating?” I ask distractedly. I have so much to get done before I leave today; I have no time for this talk.

“You haven’t spoken to Helen?”

That gets my attention. Helen’s our boss's boss. She’s here from our UK office. “No, what did I miss?”

Rhys pulls a face which can only be described as saying ‘oh fuck’ and then looks around to make sure no one is nearby.

“I’m not going to ruin the surprise. But trust me, you’ll be happy when you know.”

My eyes narrow as I consider his words. It has to be something to do with the models we’ll be dressing. We’ve been trying to lock in a big name who had a falling-out with her designer, and I’ll bet this is the confirmation.

“Delilah?” Helen calls from down the hall. Rhys and I look her way. I like Helen. She’s always been nice to me, especially compared to the Paris team. Right now, she has her signature warm, welcoming smile in place, and there’s a hint of excitement there. My eyes flash to Rhys to see him smiling back at me. Butterflies swarm my belly in anticipation. I’m sure we’ve definitely secured that model and I’m so freaking excited about it.

Chapter Twenty

Joel

Delilah’sinternshipiscomingto a close, and the timing couldn’t be better. I’ve been in an almost constant state of brooding this semester, but knowing I’ll be seeing her soon has been getting me through. I need to toughen up if I’m going to survive the career I want, and I will. This is just something that I wasn’t really prepared for, and I need to see my girl.

“I think I’m going to surprise Delilah by taking her to Italy for a vacation when her internship is done.”

Dylan and I are sitting at opposite ends of the deck, drinking beer, throwing a football back and forth, and catching up after a busy week. Dylan’s eyes narrow in thought before he responds.

“The romantic in me says that’s a great idea, but the pessimist in me says—”

“Fuck off. You’re not a pessimist when it comes to women,” I say, tossing the ball back at him, a little off-center, so he has to move from his comfortable position to reach for it.

He grabs it easily and laughs. “I know, I’m messing with you. You should have booked the tickets already.”

“Do you think I should tell her? In case she’s made other plans?”

“Shouldn’t you know her plans by now? Haven’t you talked about it?”

“Ahh…” The short answer is no. The long answer is that we’ve barely spoken in weeks, other than a few text messages. Delilah’s been crazy at work in the lead-up to their fashion show, and I had finals to prep for.

My phone vibrates on the wood beside me, drawing my attention. Delilah’s face lights up the screen.Speak of the devil.My brows furrow as I nibble my cheek in confusion. It must be around three in the morning over there, so considering she never calls anymore, I’m worried about her reason. Dylan’s looking at me curiously when my eyes find his. He’s clearly waiting for an answer.

“Hold that thought. Del’s calling.”

“Ooh, maybe your sixth sense has rubbed off on her,” Dylan jokes before rising to his feet to head inside, giving me some privacy. I wish I could laugh, but I can’t.

“Del, is everything okay?” I say when I answer the call. Loud music blares through the speaker before I hear Delilah squeal. “Yay! You answered! He answered,” she yells out above the noise. “It’s amazing, Joel. So good. Gah, I’m so happy.”She’s drunk. Shit.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Are you out drinking?”Stupid question.

“We’re out celebrating.”

“Oh, yeah?” I want to share in her happiness, but the thought of her drunk in another country unnerves me. She’s mentioned going out a few times but always kept things low-key; at least, that’s what she’s told me.

“Yes!” she giggles. “I got offered another six months of work over here. Isn’t that amazing? I’ll get to see fashion week!”What?

It should be amazing, yet my heart stops and my chest tightens. I don’t admit that, though.Surely, she’s not going to take it.

“I knew they’d love you. It shows how much they value you being there. Maybe if they’d treated you better, you would have taken them up on the offer to stay.” Am I being hopeful with my words? Yes. But I can’t fathom that she’d want to stay there after everything they’ve put her through.

---