My hand flies up to cover my jaw drop. I was certain he’d take my offer. Was it Lamont’s selection that’s influencing Giovanni to finally see me as worthy? Maybe enough time has passed, maybe he thinks I’m a better?—
“I’m going to need a lot of support.”
My stomach sinks. It was naive of me to even consider that he might actually want to partner with me. Of course he just wants me at his beck and call.
He continues, his voice lower and darker than before. “We only have three weeks.”
My brows furrow. “Why does your tone sound so ominous? It’s a showing, notThe Reaping.”
With a sigh, he pushes his glasses back up his nose, then takes out the leather-bound notebook he keeps in his pocket. He flips through the pages as if I’m not even there, jotting something down in his vintage journal.
“I want whatever we present to be the best. I take pride in my work.” He sets down the notebook and scratches the stubble on his chin, which makes a sandpaper sound. I’ve never seen him without his perpetual five o’clock shadow. Peyton swears she saw him clean-shaven once, but I maintain he was born with two things: facial hair and a mission to irk me.
Folding my arms, I release a heavy sigh. “At least that’s something we can both agree on. So, if you’ll just give me your phone number, now that we’ll be working together on the gown, that’d be great.”
Giovanni says nothing as his eyes pin me in place. I imagine what he sees. Wavy black hair with a slight frizz from the late-August humidity, frustration in my eyes… hopefullynotthe flush I feel tinting my light brown skin coral.
Maintaining relentless eye contact with me, he replies, “I prefer body-to-body meetings with you.”
I swallow, and a bead of sweat drips down my brow. “It’s face-to-face.”
“Tèssa...”
His maddeningly hot Italian accent comes out thicker now, starting with my name, as it always does whenever he gets frustrated with me.
I roll my shoulders and deeply inhale through my nose. “You know what? I’m just going to pretend I was never here.”
Grabbing my bag off the floor, I toss it over my shoulder and briskly walk toward the front of the shop.
“Wait!” he calls.
I look over my shoulder and watch him pull a swatch out of his pocket. He places it in my hand. “Here you go.”
“Not this again,” I mumble. Giovanni started “gifting” me personalized embroidered swatches a couple years ago just to push my buttons, each one containing an infuriating design to tease me with. I don’t even know where hestoresthe swatches, but my guess is next to wherever he keeps the sweetheart personality he rolls out for anyone that’s not me.
Last week, I complained that I felt like a glorified postal worker, trotting back and forth between his shop and the studio just to deliver packages. When I left, he had pressed a swatch with an embroidered carrier pigeon into my hand. It, along with every other swatch he’s embroidered for me, sits in a secret shoebox beneath my bed. I loathe the messages, admire the craftsmanship, and keep the evidence in case podcast hosts ever need it to solve my murder.
I turn over the fabric in my palm to see what he’s bestowed upon me today.
“A clock?” I study the intricately embroidered details.
“It’s the time you should get here Thursday morning.” He points to the small “TH” stitched in the middle of the clock’s face. On the swatch, a delicate timepiece hand points to 7:00.Oh my God.
“You’resucha?—”
I cut myself off, snapping my mouth shut to avoid saying something unprofessional. The corners of his lips tick up, almost like hewantsme to explode. I swear, it brings him joy to piss me off.
I adjust my bag on my shoulder, careful not to damage the rendering nestled inside—the design he didn’t evenaskto see—and turn around. I don’t need to subject myself to anymore of his criticismbody-to-bodytoday. I’ll just email him the rendering instead.
“May the rest of your day be as pleasant as you are!” I call as I storm out of his shop.
I’ll start channeling inner peace tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Giovanni
Much like the conviction that cappuccini should never be consumed past 11:00 a.m., embroidery is in my blood.
