Her mother frowned. “If you’re really having second thoughts, talk to him. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No. No, I… It’s fine. I’m still thinking everything over. I need to come up with a plan.”
“Neither Dad nor I can make your quilt for you, Mia. You need to do that yourself.” Her mom gave her an encouraging smile.
The problem was Mia didn’t know where she’d go if she did change direction or what her quilt should look like. All she wanted was to take a break from the constant pressure to succeed, to make sure her parents’ investment paid off, to make them proud of her. A break would not have held up against the judge’s scrutiny.
*
In the end,she never had a conversation with her father, and, with the sudden passing of her mother six months later, she lost her confidant. Instead, Mia forced herself to push ahead with the plan that had already been bought and paid for.
She did sometimes dream about what it would be like to start over somewhere new, where she had no history and no expectations. If Mia could have done anything she wanted, what would her life have been like? She envied someone like Ross, someone who seemed to be on such a clear path, doing what he was meant to do without question.
Mia wished she hadn’t screwed it up with him, especially after he was nice enough to give her an expensive camera. And he had said,I’ve always been your friend. It wasn’t until she heard the words that she realized how much she had yearned for them. Ross’s sentence was a verbal hug, one which made her want to stop, close her eyes, and completely surrender to the warmth.
She never felt good about the way their friendship had ended in high school. Mia wanted something better this time around.
What would her mother have told her to do?
She wiped a solitary tear away while organizing the quilt squares into a neat pile. On the table was a small stationary pad with the motivating words,Get it done!in a swirly black font and a sleepy, cartoon sloth along the bottom. Mia read the to-do list in her mother’s familiar scroll.
Pick up jacket from dry cleaners
Go to fabric store
Make lasagna
It wasn’t angelic advice from the great beyond, but it did give Mia an idea.
Chapter Twenty
“Wow, Ross, I’mactually really impressed. It looks great,” Luna said on the phone. “Maybe the trick to getting past the Ross Manasse stubbornness was in front of me the whole time. All I needed to do was go ahead and do it. Is it better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission? Be truthful with me. How mad were you?”
Ross sat at the office computer, scrolling through the Etsy page on his screen. “For your information, I was perfectly calm. I was more in a state of shock than anything else. I was shocked right out of being mad. I couldn’t believe it.”
“This girl’s really got you figured out.”
And this was a big problem. He didn’t want Mia to figure him out, to be vulnerable again, not with her. “Whatever. I’m not a complicated guy. Anyway, we’ve already made our first online sale. It’s just a necklace—”
“Don’t knock it. It’s a good start. Once you upload some images for me on the cloud, I’ll put in some time working on our Instagram page, but it sounds like all the hard work has been done.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Soon after ending the call, Ross found his thoughts drifting to Mia. It happened whenever he looked at her handiwork. With it being tied to his business at present, it wasn’t easy to avoid. How many sales would have to come and pass for these thoughts to vanish? Or would it be a constant thing every time he re-posted a listing and stared at her images? After she left, it would be all he’d have of her.
His mind broke free at a soft knock at the door. “Come in.”
The door cracked, and it was as if his thoughts conjured the physical when Mia popped her head in. “Hi, Ross. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He groaned while returning his attention to the computer, clicking the Etsy page away.
She proceeded into the room, taking the free chair available. “How’s everything going? How’s Hermes doing?”
“Fine. What can I help you with?” Ross was determined to keep this visit short and herded toward the business end of things. There wouldn’t be a handshake, let alone kissing, this time around. Now that he knew the reality of the situation, it was probably best if he didn’t get himself in any deeper.
She pulled at nervous fingers. “What I said during our last conversation—I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m really sorry. Can I make it up to you?”
“How many times are we going to go through this? I don’t want you to make it up to me. Let’s just forget it. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
