Page 108 of For Your Eyes Only

She takes the dress, scanning my face before inspecting the repair. “This is good stitching, neat and small. Your friend here claims you’re an aspiring designer.”

“It’s been my dream since I was a girl. My mother taught me to sew like they do in the fashion houses in Milan.”

“Do you have anything you’ve created here you could show me?”

I can barely breathe. “I have this.” Going to the armoire, I open the double doors and take out the rainbow pantsuit I made for Michele. “I know it’s unusual, but my friend is a drag queen. He wanted something to make a statement.” She takes it from my hand, inspecting the fabric, the stitching.

Digging deeper, I find the magenta-pink feathered costume I never wore as Glitter Girl. “I designed this to match a pair of platform Valentino Mary Janes.”

“From the fall collection?” Her voice has changed to interest, and I nod. “I know the ones you’re referencing. The Barbie pink palate.”

“Yes.” It’s like I’m having an out of body experience.

I’m showing my designs, my sketches, and my craftsmanship to a woman from Prada. How is this happening?

Anabella Vitolo crosses her arms. “I’m on my way to Milan, but I’d like to take these sketches.” I can’t nod fast enough. “We actually lost one of our interns last week, so there’s an opening. Can you come for an interview in the next few days?”

“Yes!” I want to ask if tomorrow is too soon.

“I’ll show these to the creative director. The design intern position is not easy. It’s long hours and doesn’t pay much. You’re basically an errand girl, but it’ll get your foot in the door.” Reaching into her small bag, she takes out a card and hands it to me. “This is my contact information. If I don’t hear from you by the end of next week, I’ll assume you aren’t interested.”

I take the card, and she takes the dress, turning on her heel and leaving the room. The door clicks closed, and I can’t move. I’m standing in the same place, staring at the small piece of beige cardstock with her name printed on it, trying to remember how to breathe.

“What just happened?” My voice is barely a whisper. “What did you do?”

Trip’s deep laugh breaks the spell, and he carefully slides from the bed, walking slowly to where I stand dumbfounded. “I only helped get the door open.” He puts both hands on my shoulders, smiling down at me. “You have to walk through it.”

Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around his waist—so tightly, he exhales a gasp of pain. My eyes are squeezed shut, and I have to hold onto him or I’ll faint. I’m already crying. It’s all too much.

“I can’t believe it.”

Placing his fingers beneath my chin, he lifts my face. “Believe it, beautiful girl. You deserve this.”

I want to rise onto my toes and kiss him. I want to tell him all is forgiven, and I’ll believe anything he tells me from now until the end of time.

Gazing into his eyes, I infuse my voice with all the emotion I’m feeling. “You are not a bad man. You are a good man.Molto gentile da parte tua.”

“What does that mean?” Intense emotion reflects in his eyes.

He has no idea, and I have to swallow my heart. “It means thank you.”

It means much more, but I remember the strength I’ve gained over the last year, how I’ve learned to rely on myself. So I force myself to release him, to go to where I left my sketch pad and pick it up. I’ve got work to do.

* * *

Sleepingin the same bed with Trip and not touching him after what he did for me was excruciating. Anabella Vitolo was the first visitor we’d had since he arrived, and her intensity left him exhausted and me flying.

Tonight, my back is not turned. As he sleeps, I gaze at his elegant face, so relaxed. He’s so handsome. He’s making my dreams come true. He’s helping me find my way.

Is it enough to make up for what he did? My brain still says no, but my heart is screaming yes. My hormones were screaming yes the first time I saw him, even pale and on the edge of death, I loved him so much.

He did apologize. I retrace his words from that very first night when he thought he was dying.You deserve to be cherished… I’m so sorry.

Tucking my hand under my chin, I squeeze my fist tighter so I don’t reach out and touch him. I want to press my lips to his and slide our tongues together. I want to thread my fingers in his hair and show him my gratitude the way our bodies do so well.

But I hold myself in check. I promised Michele, I promised me, I wouldn’t let him in again. Still, I can’t forget what he’s done for me. Is it enough?

I don’t even realize I’ve slept until the light shines on my face. Squinting, I sit up in the bed, inhaling deeply the rich coffee Michele has brewed for us.

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