Page 20 of Say It Isn't So

I watched as they left the room. Halfway there, Maria looked back and caught my eye, giving me a knowing glance. I put my hands up, but didn’t wait longer than it took her to disappear from earshot to say, “All right, is it just me or is Maria putting off the inevitable?”

Allie sighed and pulled a pillow onto her lap, getting comfy. “As much as I hate to say this, I don’t think we can push it. I mean, when Maria is ready to, you know,” she paused and cocked a brow, before continuing, “then fine, but for now, we should respect her privacy.”

I looked at Allie, then Perla, and we all broke out in laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Allie said, breathing deep in between laughing, “I was trying out something new, but it turns out it doesn’t work for me. At this point, I wish I could be the captain of the Maria and Dom ship. I’d steer it right into—”

“What are you all talking about?” Maria questioned as she entered the room.

I bit my bottom lip and widened my eyes at Allie. Deciding to save her sorry butt, I tried to make something up. “Fashion week. Um, yeah, we were talking about how I want to steer that ship myself.” I blew outward. “Some of these shows are just so chaotic, it’s like, people be more organized! You know?”

Maria must’ve bought it because she shrugged and took a seat before responding, “You’re not wrong. For as long as they prepare and how many hands they have on deck, you’d think they’d know what they were doing and have their shit together.”

“Some do,” Perla pointed out.

Allie raised a brow. “More often than not, though, they don’t.”

Maria laughed and a look of joy glinted in her eyes, one she only got when talking about a few things: her family, fashion, and Dom.

I peered over at the table beside the couch and picked up a framed photograph sitting there. It was of all of us sisters with Mom. The smiles on our faces showed just how downright happy we had been. It had always been simple with us—if we were together, we were happy. I missed that feeling. Instead, there was this feeling like missing a limb—that was what it’d been like since the car accident that took Mom.

“You know”—tears filled my eyes—“fashion weeks were some of her favorite times of the year.”

Sadness washed over the room like a tidal wave.

“And birthdays,” Perla noted.

“And the holidays,” Maria added.

Sniffling and laughing, Allie wiped her nose. “You can’t forget summers when we’d go to the Hamptons. Mom had a lot of favorite times of year.”

I wiped my eyes. “That she did.”

Allie chuckled. “But during fashion weeks, her whole face would light up when she talked about the schedule. It was a lot of work for her—”

“And walking,” Perla inserted.

“Yeah,” Allie agreed. “But she loved every single second of it.”

I set the photo back down and wiped my cheeks of the tears running down them. “It’s nice walking in her footsteps.” Then I waved a hand in front of my face and sucked in. “But tonight isn’t about this and I’m sorry if I brought the mood down.” I leaned over and threw my arms around my sisters beside me on the couch while Maria squeezed in next to Perla and we all squished together for a big hug.

Perla’s hand found mine. “Bibi, you’re going to every fashion week this season, so it’s only natural that you’re thinking about Mom.”

Perla was right to some extent. I had been to fashion shows and presentations before, but this season Dad had elected for me to go schmooze with the designers and their press teams. That way, we could gauge if they had advertising dollars to go to our magazine. Usually, I’d pop in and out as needed, but as the head of advertising atBellissimanow, it was in my best interest to go. It wasn’t necessary for advertising departments to go to fashion weeks, but Dad had this notion that being present was important for increasing revenue, and I didn’t disagree. And this season, he was going all in with me. Sure, Maria would make an appearance at some point in her role as Fashion Editor and Perla would drop in on some, too, to see trends and make connections with designers for future photo shoots. Even Allie would pop in and out for social content with her team, but otherwise, it was all me and, secretly, I couldn’t wait!

I’d always been destined to work in advertising at the magazine—I was good at it, but more recently I’d had the desire to sketch. And being there, seeing it all, made me think that feeling and desire would only grow, and I was all for it.

But that’d be our little secret because no one knew. Not yet anyway.

For now, it was just my thing.

“Speaking of,” Allie said, breaking into my thoughts, “are you excited for London?” London was the next stop on the fashion week calendar.

“Of course.” I leaned back and rested my head against the back of the couch. I’d never been to London Fashion Week before. Paris, yes, but never London and I’d heard some incredible things about what happened during LFW.

Pulling her phone out from the cushion of the couch, Allie waved it in her hand. “Good, because I want to hear all the juicy gossip, especially about the British men.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

I giggled. “I’m there for the fashion,” I reminded her, hardly believing my own words. Sure, I was there for the fashion, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the man candy.

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