Eight
Astrid
"Can you hand me the gold pins?" I asked Katie. "The good ones?"
Holding the gauzy fabric on the dress form with one hand, I reached out my other for the pins that my ever-efficient assistant soon placed in my palm. She let me work in quiet a few moments before I stepped back, eyeing my latest creation.
"What do you think? Am I onto something or is it giving 'trying too hard to be avant-garde'?"
She laughed her easy laugh. "I think it's good."
Hmm. The way she said good, I knew she meant not so good. It was her kind way of sparing my feelings.
I blew out a sigh in frustration because she was right. It was forgettable. The same problem I'd had during my previous runway show. It'd been fine, just okay, but that wasn't enough for me.
So far in this cut-throat industry, I was just known as a rich daddy's girl indulging in her rich girl hobby. And just like my sisters, I hated that. I wanted to forge my own path, make waves, have a real impact, and do something spectacular that would make people take notice.
I looked at the dress again, as if staring at it harder might unlock some hidden brilliance. But all I saw was fabric on a form, whispering no new ideas to me.
It seemed like it was at the tip of my fingers,the big idea, and it drove me crazy not to be able to pinpoint it. Like a word stuck on the edge of my tongue, taunting me.
This upcoming fashion week was my big chance, and I had to do better.
There was a knock outside my studio door, and a split second later, my sister Aria stepped inside the room, Ethan following her. A cold blast of air followed them in, the scent of winter clinging to their coats.
She didn't come by very often, so it caught my attention, and I immediately stopped what I was doing.
"Is everything okay?" I asked her. "Mom and Dad?"
"Yes, yes, of course. It's nothing bad."
Realizing I'd been holding my breath, I exhaled with relief. Why did I always have to jump to the worst possible scenario? Even if it was nothing bad, it wassomethingthough. I knew it just from her being here... with Ethan as well.
I studied their faces and couldn't figure it out. Aria looked excited, her skin glowing, and not just with love. And Ethan? Well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, like maybe he didn't want to come along.
Thinking back, had he ever been in my studio before? I didn't think so.
He glanced around the room, my slightly chaotic home away from home in a building that I shared with other creatives, his eyes skimming over the bolts of fabric and the design sketches pinned to a corkboard as he headed for the overstuffed couch in one corner.
Katie, bless her heart, read the writing on the wall and excused herself for lunch while I followed my sister over tothe little sitting area. Clearing off a pile of fabric swatches, I sat facing them, the tall windows behind them letting in the morning light.
"So?" I prodded, my heart pounding in anticipation. "What's going on?"
Aria looked at Ethan, widening her eyes as if willing him to speak. Chuckling, he shook his head. "All right. I guess my darling girlfriend wants me to tell the story."
I pounced on his words. "What story?"
His eyes roamed the messy counter space. "Do you happen to have some water?" he asked.
"Ethan!" Aria chided. "Just tell her already."
Taking pity on the man, I grabbed a bottle of icy cold water from a mini fridge hidden behind a cloth curtain and handed it to him before sitting down again, my blood pressure rising as my sister and I both watched him drain nearly half the bottle in one go.
"So I got a phone call yesterday afternoon," he finally began, setting the water down then leaning in closer with his elbows on his knees. "From Tristan Hawthorne."
The blood drained from my face as I took in his words.
"Yeah," he said, his voice full of sympathy.
