Huh.
I pause. Usually I’m all about things being black or white, right or wrong, good or bad. But this is somewhere on a continuum, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
“I guess the question is,” he continues, “whether you’re prepared to deal a massive blow to Cami’s heart by not being there when she needs you just because you think you know best. Some asshole online, who she doesn’t give a shit about, can’t wound her the way you can.”
“Fuck.” He’s right. “I need to go.” I race toward the exit.
“Good choice,” he calls after me. “See you there.”
I cross the parking lot and press the button to unlock my car, then I fling myself into the driver’s seat and shove the key into the ignition. I still have plenty of time to get there, but I want to make sure she knows I’m by her side. She has enough to worry about without me being MIA. I should have got my head out of my ass and realized that sooner.
I drive back to my place, shower, and grab my nicest suit from the closet. Barely ten minutes later, I’m heading across town, but I seem to hit every goddamn red light in the city. Then, impulsively, I pull over and dash into a flower shop. I clearly have no idea what I’m doing, but the florist takes pity on me and helps out.
Finally, I’m back on the road, but when police lights flash ahead and the traffic slows to a stop, my stomach sinks. Looks like there’s been a crash. Thankfully not a terrible one, but it might be enough to make me late.
I just hope I make it before the show opens.
Camile
He’s not here.
The show begins in five minutes, and there’s still no sign of Leo. I glance at my phone to see if he’s called, but there’s nothing other than a message from a while ago telling me he was on his way. He said he’d be here by now. An insecure little voice in the back of my mind whispers he’s not coming.
I’m standing in the wings of the stage, watching while the emcee prepares for her introductory talk. She’ll be opening the show and keeping everything running smoothly. Then, at the end, she’ll invite me to say a few words. That’s the part I’m most nervous about. Everyone will have already seen my designs and either loved them or hated them. I’ll have to stand in front of them and welcome their judgment.
“You’ve got this,” I murmur to myself. “They’re going to love you.”
“Damn right they will,” Lena agrees.
I smile as she approaches. Despite our differences, she’s been an absolute godsend while I’ve been planning this event. She’s dealt with all the media releases and helped guide me to where I need to be. I can’t help but hope this is the start of a friendship with her. It certainly feels that way, and I’m so grateful to have a strong woman in my corner. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”
“You’re welcome.” She winks. “It’s going to be awesome.” She gives me a little wave as she heads to take care of whatever the next thing is on her to-do list. Meanwhile, I’ve done everything I can prior to starting, so I stay where I am and wait. But then my phone rings and my heart leaps in response. I withdraw it, hoping like hell it’s Leo, but the hope dies a swift death when I see Caller ID. It’s Mom. I debate whether to answer. I called ages ago to tell her and Dad about the show. For a few minutes, it had seemed like she might be proud of me, but when she’d heard my clothing collection was for plus-size women, she’d dismissed it. Apparently I can’t be considered a success in her eyes until I’m designing outfits for women with a size zero waist. The problem is, I have no interest in that. There are enough designers out there for smaller women, whereas I’m helping those who don’t always get the chance to feel beautiful. Maybe it’s not what she’d like, but it matters to me. I glance at the emcee and see she’s still fixing her outfit, so I assume I have a few minutes before we’re live. I answer the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, Camile.” Her voice is polite but detached. “Karson seems more sullen than usual tonight. Would you be able to speak to him? You always have such a way of getting through to him.”
I shake my head, hardly able to believe what I’m hearing. “No, Mom. I can’t. My fashion show is about to start. Honestly, that’s probably what he’s upset about. For once, everything isn’t about him.” My brother and I have spoken a couple of times since I told him about Leo. He hasn’t come around, but he seems to have accepted he can’t push me into ending the relationship, so at least that’s something. More than I expected, to tell the truth.
“Oh, the show is tonight?” To her credit, she sounds genuinely interested. “Is it too late to get a ticket and come along?”
My mouth opens and closes. I don’t know how to respond. It’s the first time she’s ever offered me even the slightest hint of the support she’s shown Karson over the years. Part of me wants to lap it up, but she had the chance to reserve a ticket when I first told her about the show and she didn’t do it. So does she really want to be here, or is it just that she hasn’t had any better offers tonight? Either way, the event is sold out thanks to some solid publicity from Lena’s firm.
“I’m sorry, but there aren’t any tickets left.” I swallow to moisten my dry throat. “If you’d wanted to come, you should have said when I asked.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t know what my plans were going to be.”
“But you managed to make time for almost every one of Karson’s fights,” I remind her. “Because you prioritized him.” I take a deep breath and prepare to say what I’ve needed to for a really long time. “That’s what I want. To be prioritized. I’m doing what I love, and I’m going to succeed with or without your support. I’d really like to share my happiness with you, but whether or not that happens is entirely your choice.” I soften my tone. “Perhaps we can get in early to save you a ticket for the next show.” Because there will be another one, I’m certain of it.
Mom is quiet for so long I begin to wonder if she’s hung up, but then she speaks. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you’re not a priority.” Surprisingly, her voice is heavy. She seems to have taken my words to heart. “You’ve always been so self-contained. You never seemed to need our encouragement. Karson thrived on the attention, so I suppose we showered it on him at your expense.” She pauses, then adds, “When the next show is on, I’d really like to come. But I’ll buy a ticket, just like your father and I always did for Karson’s fights. I want to support you with our money, not just our presence.”
“That’s not necessary,” I protest, even as my heart fills with warmth at the gesture.
“I insist.” I can tell she won’t be swayed. “Now, go enjoy your show. Congratulations, Camile. Maybe I could come over for brunch tomorrow so we can talk?”
I smile and nod. “I’d like that. I’ll see you then.”
“Goodbye.”
