Page 61 of Say It Isn't So

Now, what I’d noticed was if a design had a plunging V-neckline, the designer usually avoided a high slit like the plague. Probably to keep it from competing with the neckline or generally from being too slutty, but not for this design. No, for what I was doing, I felt like the dress called for a leg-bearing slit even with the neckline.

You see, I had the time to do this because I was sitting at a café, cappuccino and an empty plate from my croissant in front of me, waiting for my dad. He had arrived last night and called, wanting to meet.

Go ahead, let the sounds of doom commence. I’d be right there with you, but you should know, Milan Fashion Week was unlike the others. So it was kind of a necessary evil, I supposed you could say, if you saw my dad as evil.

For years,Bellissimahad been hosting a big party to close out the week. We chose this particular week because my mom’s family originated from Milan; plus, it’d been her favorite city for its fashion. Everyone from influencers to celebrities, designers to buyers, competitor publications, blogs, and other press and media were invited.

This year, it was more than a mix and mingle, too, because world-renowned international designer Paolo Gicchio was introducing his new collection with a runway show at our party. It was a collaborative effort Maria had been working on for quite a while.

Paolo Gicchio xBellissimawould be known everywhere for its bold and innovative designs. It was a big moment for the magazine and part of the reason Allie had secured a partnership deal with a platform to broadcast the show live online.

Finishing the final touches on my own design, I decided to complete the look with a statement-making train. I always loved trains, ever since my mom showed me her own wedding dress. She’d had it flown in from Italy and it was stunning. She’d worn an all-lace monarch train, which was about twelve inches long. In fact, her whole dress was all-lace with long sleeves and a high neckline.

She looked beautiful in the photographs when she walked down the aisle, regal even, like the queen she‘d been.

It was a very classic and elegant look. Not exactly my style, of course, but I did wish we still had it. Who knew, maybe my sisters or I would’ve decided to wear it. Crazier things had happened. Unfortunately, though, my grandmother had gotten rid of it in one of her moves, never thinking to ask my mom if she’d want to keep it.

Anyway, where was my dad coming from? He should’ve been here by now. I looked up and noticed him walking toward me, wearing navy blue slacks and a crisp white shirt.

I quickly shut my sketchbook and slipped everything in my bag before he got to me.

“Daddy,” I greeted, getting up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Back stiff, he sat down on the other side of the small table.

So things are going to be awkward.

“What took you so long?” I wondered, trying to get things on track.

“The venue was giving me a last-minute tour. They’ve made quite the transformation, building the stage into the place, but it went longer than I expected. Sorry I’m late.” He folded his hands on the table, looking stoic.

I could tell he didn’t want to be mad, but obviously still was. Ugh, this wasn’t going to be easy.

I waved a hand in the air and shook my head, smiling. “Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you got to see it.”

Nodding, he smiled and the lines around his eyes softened. “I don’t know how your mother managed all of this. I tried to help her over the years, but she insisted this was her baby. Dare I say this is just as much work as raising a child.”

I swayed my head back and forth and gave him a lopsided smile. “You know Mom, she’d always downplayed everything. A job that took ten, she did by herself and kicked butt doing it.”

He cocked a brow and cleared his throat. “That’s true. It was one of the things that drew me to her. She was incredibly confident and could do anything she put her mind to.” Then he grinned, as though going down memory lane in his head. “That and the way she drew people in. Everyone loved her, it was hard not to. And the way she dressed,” he went on and I could tell he was getting lost in his memories, “always to the nines. The embodiment of poise and sophistication.”

I sighed, looking away for a moment and taking in the scene around me before replying, “She was one-of-a-kind.” It was easy to get swept up in the past, but it wouldn’t do me any good, that much I knew, so I tried to stay in the present.

“Yeah, andgabadost,” he added and laughed.

“Daddy,” I playfully admonished, finally relaxing a bit myself and leaning back in my chair.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s true. She knew it, too. She was stubborn and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was her way or the highway.” He pointed a finger at me. “You’re a lot like her, baby girl.”

Yes, maybe he’d just called me stubborn, but being like my mom? Now that was a compliment I’d take any day of the week. Frankly, I wished I was more like her.

“I don’t like the way things have been between us,” I started, knowing it had to be addressed. The Italian way, especially in this family, was to brush things under the rug and avoid talking about things that made us uncomfortable. The cycle: it happened, you let it go, you forgot about it. Because at the end of the day you were family and that was all that mattered. Blood quite literally bound us for life, and we took that seriously. Even knowing that, though, I still needed to get this out, so I continued before he could stop me, saying, “I’ve missed talking to you and I don’t want to fight.”

His hand found his chin and he looked like he was deep in thought. “Are you still seeing that boy?”

“His name is Knox.”

“Are you still seeing him?” he asked again, just as seriously.

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