The sound of the wooden chair sliding against the floor has me turning toward Tessa as she gingerly stands up.She can’t ride the elevator alone, can she?
I scoot my chair back and stand to follow her.
“We need you here, Giovanni,” Lamont commands.
“We’ve already provided the information on the look.”
He takes a slow sip of water. “Post-show strategy.”
I meet Tessa’s gaze as she mutters, “Don’t follow me.” She walks straight for the elevator and presses the button to go down.
It’s impossible for me to look anywhere else other than her,alwaysher. I track the way her hand tremors. And just as the doors shut, my heart clenches as I watch a rogue tear escape her eye.
Lamont’s voice pulls me from my Tessa haze. “Giovanni.”
Frustration prickles under the surface of my skin as I slowly sit down. My jaw tightens, and I grind my teeth to prevent myself from saying something reckless.
Lamont resumes the meeting, veering away from the designs themselves to public relations efforts, but it’s impossible for me to focus. I’m worried about Tessa and wondering if she made it down safely. My fingers drum on the table restlessly.
“We need to align on the key descriptors we’ll use for the finale look. Giovanni, how would you describe your appliqué to the press?”
Annoyance flares in my chest, flaming the anger that’s been building from the moment Lamont belittled Tessa. I know she’d want me to leave it alone, but the outrage curling inside me itches to get out.
“Giovanni? Are you with us?”
“Ethereal. Timeless. Refreshing. Those are the words I’d use to describeTessa’sdesign.”
The only hint of surprise Lamont shows is an arched brow above his emerald glasses.
“And I just want to reiterate that I was merely executingherstrong vision with the appliqué.” I stare at Lamont, daring him to disagree.
Silence stretches across the suite. After a moment, Lamont releases a bored sigh. “I’ll make sure to thank her first thing tomorrow, then.”
I nod. The stresses of fashion week are getting to everyone. At least Tessa will receive some credit for her hard work tomorrow.
Chapter 13
Tessa
It’s show day.
Backstage is a whirlwind of bustling activity. It’s just like the last time we were at the venue, except today it’s allourgarments,ourmodels,ourcrew. Everyone from stylists to producers flit to their destinations—wardrobe stations, sound and lighting, makeup and hair. Semi-naked models dart in errant patterns, ducking into the designated quick change areas. The chaos generates a buzz of energy that fuels me. Ibloomin this environment. Being in the thick of it all is strengthening my manifestations for my own line.
But after last night, an overcast of doubt shadows my hopes and dreams. The end of yesterday’s production meeting plays in my mind on repeat. I know it was rough. And to add insult to injury, Lamont’s interactions with me today have consisted only of disappointed sighs and barely audible demands.
While I try to block out the details of the nightmare meeting, the memory of Giovanni’s hand brushing mine echoes in my mind. I appreciate what he did for me, and I want to return thefavor by convincingly playing the supportive girlfriend part in Brescia.
Drawing in a deep breath and closing my eyes, I tell myself to focus on the present and remember what Daniel told me last night on our call: “Don’t let one bad practice ruin the game.”
When I open my eyes, I feel grounded. The thought of watching my dress walk down the runway vibrates beneath my skin. I’ve worked hard for this moment.
I belong here.
We complete final tests on spotlight transitions, recommunicate audio levels, and fuss over the angle of a particularly difficult headpiece. One by one, the rest of the crew starts to gather in front of the backstage monitors, anxiously waiting for our show to start. To pass the time, we joke about the hat that Lamont nearly threw in the shredder yesterday, that one seam on a suit none of us could agree on, and how the late nights might finally be getting to us.
Anticipation floods my body, but not in an anxious way—in an eager way. I recite a few affirmations in my head…This will be my reality one day. I will design my own line. I deserve success.
Esme’s shoulder brushes mine as she joins the group, interrupting my mantras. “It’s almost time!”
