Page 77 of False Start

Kendra admires herself in a nearby mirror, smoothing the fabric against her hips.

"Girl!" she exclaims, and nothing more needs to be said. What was true at the fitting still holds true tonight: Kendra was made to wear this dress. Seeing my favorite model wear my dress like she was born to do it feels like a dream, and I pinch the side of my leg where no one will notice.Ouch!Yup, I'm awake.

"You look amazing," I say, my throat thick with emotion.

She must hear it, because she turns to me and places a hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks, Denise. It would be impossible to look any other way in a dress like this." She checks herself out again in the mirror, then smiles warmly at me. "I can't wait to see what you'll do with a whole line."

I don't respond. I can't. If I open my mouth, I might start bawling in front of everyone, and I got my makeup done to celebrate with the girls after the show. Instead, I return her smile with a watery one of my own, and pat the hand still on my shoulder.

"Alright, ladies!" the show coordinator whisper-yells from across the room. "Time to line up. The lights go down in five minutes!"

From that point on, it's a madhouse. Makeup artists touch up a never-ending stream of models, blotting sweat from foreheads and reapplying smudged lipstick. Seamstresses pin and sew garments directly onto models in various states of undress. Hair stylists apply curling irons to limp strands and bobby pins to up-dos. The show coordinator keeps everyone on time and in order, alternating between barking orders at the models and shouting into a headset.

Through it all, Bailey Maxwell is everywhere. He's the final say before a model walks the catwalk. Occasionally helping the tailors adjust the fit of a piece. Making last-minute adjustments to the models' order to improve flow. It looks overwhelming, and Icannot waitto wrangle my own three-ring circus.

Finally, the last model returns to join the line of all the looks. Mr. Maxwell brings up the rear. And the applause when he steps through the thick curtains is so loud, my ears ring. I waspartof that. Not just an amazing show, but a statement; that plus-size and curvy womenaremainstream, whether people like it or not. Sixteen-year-old me would be at a loss for words. Thirty-one-year-old me isn't much better.

The applause dies down as Mr. Maxwell takes his final bow before coming back to address everyone. He flaps another fierce cloak like a matador and stands in the middle of the room.

"Everyone, listen up!" he shouts over the excited chatter. When the noise finally dies down, he continues.

"I hope you all know that tonight's show was absolutely magnificent! There were a few hiccups, of course. There always are." He rolls his eyes ruefully and a few people chuckle. "Brittany," he says to a tall redhead with striking gold eyes, "I think your heel might still be somewhere under the chairs in the front row." More people laugh. "But you played it off well."

"Hiccups aside, this was a big show. Tonight was Bailey Maxwell's entry into the extended sizes market..." He pauses for dramatic effect. The entire room holds their breath. "…And it was a success!"

The tension snaps, some people breaking into applause, others heaving audible sighs of relief. Mr. Maxwell lets it continue for a few moments before raising his hand to silence everyone once more.

"Not only will Saks and Macy's be carrying our traditional sizes,—for the sixth year in a row—but theybothexpressed interest in carrying the extended sizes as well!"

There's no containing the noise now. People are clapping, cheering, kissing and hugging. Near the back, I see one of the members of the wardrobe team popping a bottle of champagne. I push through the crowd to hug Julie and the other designers. I make a point to congratulate the seamstresses, who look like they just survived an earthquake. And even though I'm still star-struck, I find Kendra in the mayhem and hug her tightly, letting the tears run down my face.

"Thank you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled by one of the dress's puffy sleeves. She returns my embrace.

"Thankyou! I felt like a princess in your dress. If I can't buy this one, best believe I'll be in Saks as soon as they have it in stock."

Nearly an hour later, almost everyone has cleared out. The few people that remain are packing up their workstations or making plans for after-parties. I'm beat,—and a little tipsy on celebratory champagne—but I'm still looking forward to having a few more drinks with my girls. It's such a relief that things are good between us again.

"You all set?" Kendra asks, slinging a mini leather satchel over one shoulder. I still can't believe she wanted to hang with The Three Amigas, though I guess I understand avoiding industry parties given her experience.

"Yep! My girls are going toflipwhen they meet you. Let's just say I'm not your only fan."

We push through the side doors, and I stop in my tracks. Standing near the exit, deep in conversation, are Maya, Tiffany…and Cory. I'm about to pretend I forgot something so I can run back the way I came when I seethree more Park brothersreturning from the open bar, drinks in hand.

Adam takes his place next to Maya, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. The tall one—Damon, I think?—stops short, an intense look in his eyes. I worry I've somehow done something wrong before I realize he's actually staring atKendra. He's looking at her like she'd be his last meal if he were on death row.

I smirk to myself. Sothat'swhat it looks like to get hit with Cupid's arrow. Either that or he's a superfan.

Noah comes up behind Damon to see why he stopped and spots us both, looking like deer caught in headlights. At leastIdo. With the surprising scene in front of me, I haven't spared Kendra a glance.

Noah—the traitor!—winks at me before tapping Cory on the shoulder and pointing at me. Cory turns, our eyes lock, and it's over. My resolve, my stubbornness, all pretense that I don't still love him. They're gone. In their place, my true feelings, feelings I denied for way too long, are knocking around inside my chest, making it hard to breathe.

He's here. After everything, he still came!

"You good, Denise?" Kendra whispers, and I'm snapped out of my stupor. I clear my throat.

"Uh, yeah," I mumble unconvincingly. "It's just a few more people than I realized were coming."

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