by Lisa Lace
It has only been a week since we left home, and we’re in Milan already. Just when I was starting to adjust to a set schedule, we had to leave. I am not complaining, though. This is a hub for fashion and textiles, and I’m falling in love with the city. I have only been here for a day, but I know I could easily spend a year here.
Yesterday I spent the day taking Bella around to some of the small, quirky shops that line the streets. We spent a good deal of time in a storefront that advertised hats. After trying each one, she settled on a small one with a pink ribbon on it.
“You get one too, Laura!” She’d exclaimed. “We can wear these when we play princess tea party!”
I laughed. “Great idea.”
She beamed at me, and we made several more stops before going back to the hotel to collapse. Thankfully, I have the day to myself today. I have two meetings lined up; the first is with the woman who had interviewed me and offered the internship that I had to turn down. The other is a contact of Maxwell’s. He said he’d arranged for me to meet them before we left the States, so I agreed to go out of curiosity more than anything.
Standing at the entrance to my first meeting, I peer inside before I step in. There is a bustle of activity. Everyone is weaving in and out, not looking at each other but not running into one another, either. I know limited Italian, but it doesn’t seem to matter because even if I were to yell, I doubt anyone would look up from their tasks.
I look at my phone and think about texting her to come meet me at the door. I have no idea where she is, and with the building being an open floor plan, she could be anywhere in the chaos that is this building.
“Can I help you?” a soft, lilting voice inquires from behind me.
I half-turn to see a petite woman with short brown hair curling around her face. “Oh, yes, please! I’m supposed to meet a Ms. Adriana, but I don’t know where to find her.”
“I can imagine your confusion.” She smiles kindly and touches my arm. “I’m Adriana. You must be Laura.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” I feel the urge to hug her, but I hold back.
She doesn’t, though. She pulls me into a strong hug, and I’m surprised at her show of strength. “I knew I would like you when I first interviewed you. I was so disappointed when you told me you wouldn’t be able to make it after all.”
“I was looking forward to it. Believe me, if there was another way.” I trail off helplessly.
“It’s okay, dear.” Her accent is thicker than I remembered when we had our phone interview. She’s also a lot shorter than I had imagined. She looks like a grandmother, and I wish I had more time to spend with her.
“So dear, what can we do for you?” She leads me to an unassuming desk tucked away in a corner. She gestures to a lone seat in another area helplessly. “Pull up a chair. You’ll have to excuse the mess. These young kids like to have no walls and make everyone feel like equals. But in the end, we just share our messes, and it stresses everyone out.” She giggles.
“You don’t look stressed,” I point out. She doesn’t. Her face is smooth, and her eyes are kind. There isn’t any sign of fatigue in her eyes; they are sharp, and they don’t look like they miss anything.
“I wanted to show you my portfolio,” I begin. I don’t want to waste her time. As kindly and sweet as she looks, I have a feeling she’s a shark when she needs to be, and I’d rather stay on her good side.
She begins to flip through it while I continue. “I have a project that I’m going to be working on for this year. So after that’s completed, I’d like to resubmit my application for an opportunity to work with you. But not just as an intern. I want to come back as a designer. As an added benefit, I’d like to do some designs for free, and in return, you can offer me feedback so I can fix them, and then you keep them. That way, I get the opportunity to work on them, and you get a free designer, one that will be especially trained and ready for you by next year.”
“That does sound appealing,” she says, setting her teacup down. “And you’re not looking for any compensation other than this?”
“No, absolutely not. What you can offer me in guidance and advice is priceless. And right now, I’m in a position where I can afford to do this.”
Adriana looks thoughtful. “Your offer is tempting.”
“But?” I ask.
“But nothing,” she corrects me. “It’s tempting, and will agree to it on one condition.”
“What?” I ask, trying to keep myself from smiling like an idiot.
“You keep your name under our label for two years. This year and the next, so whatever you do for free, you keep under our label. We will both benefit from this. Next year, I will be paying you so you will benefit twofold.”
I finally allow my smile to spread across my face. This is a dream come true. So many clothing designers struggle for years before they’re given an opportunity like this.
“Thank you so much, Adriana. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I know talent when I see it.” She winks at me. “You couldn’t make it here, and you thought you wouldn’t be meeting me. But for whatever reason, you’re here. You’re meant to be here. Nothing happens by accident.”
I leave her office deep in thought. I know she has a point, but it makes me read too much into the marriage again, so I dismiss her words. I feel like she could see through to my soul and was sending me a message. I haven’t had enough sleep lately, and I hope I can get some tonight.
When I arrive at my next meeting, I’m immediately taken aback by the decorative allure of the outside. Unlike the workplace I was just in, it’s clear this one is well-established and far more sophisticated. Adriana’s office is that of a start-up company that has a lot of soul and humbleness. This office is built on class and class divides. I look around to see everyone ignoring me—at least that part is normal. But they aren’t busy here, so they’re ignoring me on purpose.
One woman spots me and waves me over. With no preamble, she scribbles something down on a notepad and tears it off. “Take this over there,” she says with a thick accent. I do as I’m told, unsure of what to ask her. I try reading the note, but it’s scribble, and I give up after two attempts.
I walk to another desk, and the woman looks up, bored. “Yes?”
“I was asked to bring this to you.” I hand her the note and look around at all the people who can’t be bothered to look up from their phones.
“You go to that room.” She points a long, slim manicured finger to an office behind her.
I do as I’m told again, and wonder where Maxwell has sent me. Ten minutes later, I’m finally ushered into a large office. I sit down just as a beautiful woman comes in. I recognize her immediately. I’ve seen her work, studied it, memorized it, and mimic her styles often.
“Victoria,” I breathe.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” She smiles at me. “Where is Max?”
I’m surprised at her using his name in such a familiar manner because I have barely begun to call him that myself.
“He is swamped in some of his own meetings, but he said he would come here if he got out early,” I tell her.
“Oh, fantastic!” She claps her hands once in front of her.
For the next hour, she outlines her own thoughts about what direction she thinks I should go in, and then she offers me an opportunity to do some work for her that is similar to the deal I just set up with Adriana. I tell her I’ll think about it. She doesn’t press me, but smiles and says she is sure that Max will nudge me in the right direction. Someone from her office pops his head in and speaks to her in rapid-fire Italian. She excuses herself.
“Please excuse me. We have an emergency. Call me anytime to discuss this in further detail. And give Max my love.”
While I am walking toward the coffee spot that Max has designated as our meeting point, should he not make it to this office, I think about her advice. It was generous and completely out of left-field. I never applie
d for any positions with her, thinking it was way out of my league for a beginner. And a busy woman sitting with me for an hour during the workday meant only one thing. She either really liked Max, or she owed him a favor. Neither one sounds like a desirable option if I have to choose.
“There you are!” Max is sitting in front of the bistro at a small table with a book and two cups of coffee in front of him.
I can’t help but eye him warily. I don’t know why, but him making decisions for me has begun to bother me more. “What kind of drink is that?” I ask.
“I got an Americano for you.” He grins. “This one is something I can’t pronounce well enough, so I just pointed at a picture when I ordered.”
“Is it okay if I get something else?” I ask brusquely. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I also don’t want him to feel like I’m happy with him making these choices for me, and continuing to make more.
“Sure,” he says, confusion evident on his face. “Don’t you want to taste it first?”
“I’m pretty sure I won’t like it,” I lie. Americanos are actually one of my favorite coffee drinks.
“Okay,” he says, sipping his drink. “I’ll be here.”
It’s not until he agrees that I realize I am looking for an argument. I walk up to order a new drink, one that I like far less, and wait, feeling like a complete fool. Once I get my drink in hand, we set off down the sidewalk in silence.
The rest of the evening is a blur of dinner with Bella at a fancy restaurant and an early bedtime when she misbehaves. I started my period earlier this morning, so I’m not surprised when Max turns in soon after Bella. I stay up to pour over some of next season’s sample designs that I obtained from Adriana and a few from Victoria. I notate some differences in the lines and fabrics being used.
It’s well past eleven when I try to crawl into bed to sleep. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, I give up. When we first arrived at the hotel, I spotted a full-service gym on the lower level. Now was as good a time to utilize it as any. Quickly changing, I go downstairs to run off my frustrations.
When I hit my fourth mile on the treadmill, my lungs are burning, and I want to stop. But I also want to exhaust myself so I can shower and sleep in relative peace. Having had cramps most of the day today, the last thing I want is sex, so I don’t know why I’m upset that Max fell asleep. I think I’m growing used to him holding me or touching me, and I remind myself that it’s part of sex.
I feel as if I’ve received a crash course in sex this month, and I’m still learning the etiquette for it, the nuances of what each term or position means. I want to feel what I feel and not be confused by it. I find myself second-guessing every move Max makes, and it makes me crazy. I jump off the treadmill when it rolls to a stop, and vow to call Riley to give me perspective tomorrow.
Until then, I’ll model my behavior after Max’s. Casual, reserved, and passionate only in certain windows of time.
Maxwell
Sam left this morning, and I’ve been exhausted by the past two days. We crammed in a week’s worth of meetings into two days because I needed Sam present. I go back to bed after he leaves, and don’t see Laura and Bella in the room. They must have gotten up and left while I was out. It’s late afternoon; they should be back soon. Laura usually starts getting Bella ready for bed by six-thirty.
I haven’t seen much of them in the past two days, actually. I saw them at night when I came home, and I saw them early in the morning when I was leaving—sleeping both times. I know Laura said she was on her cycle but I think it’s over by now. If there’s one thing that the agreement left out, it’s that I still want to hold her at night, even if we aren’t going to be intimate. That seems like more of a gray area, and I don’t want to be an asshole and insist on it. She doesn’t seem like she’s in the mood to talk much, but it’s possible that’s my imagination. It’s likely because we haven’t seen much of each other that I’m thinking this way.
I’m relieved when I hear the door opening. Bella comes in first and throws herself on the bed where I’m lying down.
“Daddy! You’re here!”
“Yes, pumpkin.” I kiss her forehead. “Did you two do some shopping?” I see a few bags in Laura’s hand, and one new accessory dangling from Bella’s wrist.
“Yes! I got some new dresses, and Laura said we can match next time we go out,” Bella tells me proudly. “I got you something, too!” She leaps off the bed and fishes into the bags until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Here!” She thrusts a tie at me, and I smile.
“Thanks, Bella,” I say, kissing her on her forehead. “I’ll wear it to my next meeting, and I’ll think of you.”
“Do you have any more meetings today?” Laura asks from behind me.
“Oh, no, not today. I had one scheduled later, but it got canceled.”
“Why?”
“I have to meet Adriana for an early dinner, and then I have some work to do. Can you put Bella to bed?” Laura asks while putting her earrings in. She looks flushed, and I want to tell her that it’s the last thing I want to do, and I can think of one thing, in particular, I’d rather spend our time on.
“Sure,” I say instead. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Leaning in, Laura lowers herself down for a kiss. I arch up towards her, but she leans in further and kisses Bella. “See you later, ‘gator,” she says, ruffling her hair.
By the time I am tucking Bella into bed, I’m relieved to hear Laura return. I know she knows how to navigate around the city and she has a driver to take her, but it doesn’t make me worry any less. Bella does her usual routine of pouting for more books, and I do my part in giving in. Tonight, she is a little more particular, probably because I’ve been working longer hours the past couple of days.
“Can I sit in your lap when you read me a book?” she asks. She bats her eyes, and I wonder where she picked this up. Too many princess books, no doubt.
“Okay,” I agree. “But my limit is three books tonight. Daddy is tired.” I’m glad this hotel has a children’s room adjacent to our suite, complete with a rocking chair. I sit in it and read to Bella, gliding back and forth as I do. I don’t know when I stopped reading, but when I wake up, Bella is sound asleep in my lap, and the clock reads well after midnight.
I transfer her to her bed and tiptoe out, closing the door behind me. Expecting to see Laura sleeping in bed, I’m surprised to see it empty. The bathroom is empty as well. I see her purse, but not her. I change into my pajamas and get ready for bed while I wait for her to return, but after twenty minutes, there is still no sign of her.
I call her phone, but I hear it ringing in her purse. Cursing under my breath, I grab my hotel key card and stab the elevator button to get to the main lobby. I stop at the front desk, but I don’t see anyone. I walk past several conference rooms and the like; not a soul. My chest tightens, and just as I’m turning back to yell for help at the front desk, I spy her out of the corner of my eye. She’s on the treadmill, running as fast as she can.
Tearing into the room, I keep my voice even so I don’t surprise her. “Laura.”
She glances my way and raises her eyebrows. “Max? What happened? Is everything okay? Where’s Bella?”
“She’s fine. She’s asleep in the room, out like a log. What the hell are you doing down here? It’s in the middle of the night! If you need to exercise, let me know, and we can make time for you to do it during a decent hour.”
“Look, this helps me sleep,” Laura says. Her chest is heaving, and she looks incredible, beads of sweat dripping into her cleavage. I force my gaze to stay on her face and on topic.
“Why can’t you sleep?” I ask in confusion. She’s been keeping long hours with Bella and work and her other meetings. She should be utterly exhausted come nighttime.
“I’m stressed out. This helps relieve that, and it clears my mind,” she argues.
“I know the benefits of running and exercise,” I say in exasperati
on. “But why are you stressed out? Is there something that you need help with? Is it Bella? You’ve spent a lot of time with her. If you need more free time, take it. Just do it during the day.”
“I know what’s best for me,” she argues stubbornly. Then, looking past me, she climbs off the treadmill. “We should go back upstairs. Bella’s alone up there.”
I agree, and we walk to the elevators in silence. Once we get inside, Laura heads straight to the bathroom and shuts the door. I hear the shower running, and I peek in on Bella. She’s in the same position that I left her in, and I tuck the blanket around her more snugly before going to our bed.
Laura emerges a few minutes later and looks at me in surprise. “You’re still up?” She combs through her hair with her fingers.
“We need to finish talking,” I tell her quietly. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to do these things at such odd hours.”
“It’s not odd. That gym is open twenty-four hours a day for guests for a reason!”
“That’s true,” I admit. “But when I went looking for you, I couldn’t even find anyone at the front desk. Imagine if you had someone bothering you in there. What would you have done?”
“I could have called someone.” She shrugs.
“If you had taken your phone, yes, that might have been a possibility,” I point out.
Laura folds her arms across her chest, the move she makes when she’s about to say something when she knows I’m right. “You stay out late at night. I didn’t see you for two days. I don’t even know when you come back to the hotel. Why is it that you have a right over what I do with my spare time, and I don’t have any say in yours?”
“I was gone because our meetings were rescheduled at the last minute because of Sam. I didn’t have time to fill you in on all the details, but I thought it was understood that I was out for work. I wasn’t spending my leisure time out in these establishments. I’d rather be at home.”
