"Boats are wonderful to draw. All those lines and curves." I'm instantly charmed by this solemn little boy with his serious eyes and his careful English, warming up degree by degree. He's guarded too, like his mother. "We have art classes here, you know. For kids your age. Painting and drawing, all kinds of fun projects."
I look up at Nadiyah. "If you're ever interested, I'd love to have him in the program. He seems like he'd fit right in."
Sami's face transforms. His mouth falls open, his whole body turning toward his mother, tugging her hand. "Maman? S'il te plaît?"
Nadiyah's smile tightens at the corners. Her hand moves from his shoulder to cup the back of his head, drawing him against her side in a gesture that reads as tender but lands as protective. Containing him.
"That's very kind, Ms. Ross." Her voice is pleasant, measured. "We'll have to think about it."
Sami looks down at his shoes, his small shoulders curling inward. He doesn't argue. Well-behaved. Accustomed to accepting no without protest.
"I hope you'll say yes." I straighten carefully, my hand moving instinctively to my abdomen. Nadiyah notices, her gaze following every movement I make. "Please, call me Avery. And the offer about the art classes stands whenever you're ready."
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and touch Sami's arm. Brief, gentle. "It was really nice to meet you, Sami. I hope I see you again."
He looks up at me, and his expression eases. It’s not quite a smile, but the reticence around his eyes and mouth loosens.
Nadiyah's hand tightens on his shoulder. She pulls him closer, a small but definite motion, and when I glance at her face, her expression has smoothed into a look I can't read.
"Actually… I’m glad I ran into you today."
“Oh?” I wait, curious.
"I received a special shipment yesterday." She adjusts Sami against her side, one hand resting on his head. "South Sea pearls. They are of exceptional quality. I thought of your veil immediately."
"Aren't you nearly finished with it?"
She nods, a look of hesitancy in her expression. "Yes, but there is still a little time for something truly special. If you approve, that is." She smiles, growing more animated as she talks about the masterwork she's been crafting over the past many weeks. "I could sew the pearls into some additional embroidery around the crown and the border. The effect would be stunning." Her dark eyes hold mine, steady and professional. "But if you want them, I need to begin today. With the wedding in three days, there is no time to waste."
"I don't know." I hesitate, thinking of my schedule. The calls I need to return. The thousand small decisions still waiting for answers between now and Saturday.
"My apartment is very close by." Nadiyah indicates the direction of the exit. "It would only take a few minutes. I can show you the pearls, explain the modification, and you can decide."
The practical voice in my head ticks through the afternoon. I have calls to return. A seating chart to finalize. Nick is expecting me at his office around lunchtime. But the veil is Nadiyah's masterpiece, and if there's a way to make it even more beautiful than it already is, I want to see what she has in mind.
And maybe some part of me doesn't want to say no to this woman who has been quietly pouring herself into my wedding for months. The woman who, for the first time since I've known her, is offering something that feels personal rather than purely professional.
I exhale, feeling the competing pulls release their grip. "All right. A few minutes. Just to look."
Nadiyah's smile warms. "Come. We can walk. It's just this way."
We walk out together, and Sami gets a smile and a wave from Jason behind the front desk. The October air is crisp when we push through the doors, carrying the scent of New York in autumn—fallen leaves and distant exhaust and woodsmoke from somewhere blocks away. My car stays parked in the lot. I'll come back for it after.
"How long have you lived in this neighborhood?" The question comes naturally as we walk, filling the silence.
"Not long, a few months." Nadiyah keeps Sami close to her side, his small hand wrapped in hers. "It's affordable enough for a single mother. Good schools nearby for when he's older."
I nod. Chelsea has changed, gentrified in waves, but pockets of the old neighborhood remain. It’s the kind of community where people actually know each other's names.
We round a corner, and Nadiyah nods ahead. "Just here."
The building rises before us, six stories of old red brick, gray window air conditioning units jutting out at irregular intervals. It's modest. Not dilapidated, but clearly not luxury either. The kind of building that's housed working families for generations, rent-stabilized apartments passed down through decades.
Nothing like the penthouse where Nick and I live, where our child will grow up. Nothing like the world of House of Delaire either, where Nadiyah works, surrounded by custom gowns and wealthy brides and astronomical price tags.
I wonder if that has anything to do with her reticence, her guarded demeanor that she seems to carry around her like a shield—or a mask.
"It's not much," Nadiyah says quietly, catching me looking at the building. "But it's home."
