Gabby left saddled with, a small box of her belongings, her shopping bags, and stood on the corner of Broadway and 41st Street for a full ten minutes. It was crazy. She’d started the day so full of promise and excitement over the debut of her new line and now here she was ending it on a busy Garment District street corner, sad, alone, jobless, and pushing thirty. She looked down at her box and her wasted years at Zenia seemed to look back at her mockingly. She closed her eyes for a moment, then, with a firm resolve, dumped it all in the nearest trash.
Chapter 19
Optimism is for assholes, and trust is for stupid assholes. Gabby placed an underline under the statement she’d just written on the orange Post-It and held it out to Nick before sticking it to the fridge door.
She was in a funk. Okay, so a funk was an understatement. She was flat-out pissed and wanted to tell the world to fuck off and Nick didn’t know what to do about it. He had to admit the Post-It did make sense though.
His first instinct when he’d heard what had happened with her job was to go and kick some orange ass down at that so-called fashion house where she worked. But he knew Gabby would be pissed if he did, though he’d sure as hell feel a ton better. Besides, he still wanted a piece of that jerk after the restaurant. The thought of where his hand went after they’d sat down still burned him up.
It would be a perfect stress outlet since this week the Dow had gone bonkers. Some whack job out in the middle of nowhere, who controlled a major portion of the world’s oil reserves, suddenly decided this would be a good time to change his stance on free trading after thirty years. People were panicking, and Nick hated that there was now turmoil both at work and at home.
Normally it wouldn’t bother him so much. He remembered back in the not-so-distant past when he’d thrived on controversy, on being the problem solver, but now it felt like the stakes were higher. And with Gabby, it felt like a problem he just couldn’t solve. It was driving him nuts seeing her suffer like this. He knew that she had sent out so many resumes, but in the business it was all buzz and word of mouth, and sadly Gabby had neither.
But Nick did see a bit of a light at the end of the tunnel for Gabby and a real chance at creating some buzz—though he was scared that in the end he’d be the one getting stung once she found out what he’d done. During his meeting with Mrs. Sutton, he’d seen an opening and taken it, bringing up Gabby’s idea about size expansion, and the old bird had been intrigued. When Nick told her the idea had come from a friend of his she’d expressed a desire to meet Gabby, but of course, what was supposed to be great news, Nick was now hesitant to share. Knowing Gabby, with all her pride, she’d take it the wrong way. Think it was some kind of handout or pity gesture.
It was early on Saturday, and Nick was nuzzling at her neck. He was so glad they’d kept their arrangement and come to a truce, calling the apartment neutral ground after the night of the fight. They hadn’t brought up past or present lovers again. Not that he had any at present and he didn’t think she did either, and they still met together in the evenings, sharing dinner and making love.
He didn’t know what he’d do when Steve returned and didn’t want to think of it, since he’d long ago given up his apartment hunt, happy to stay in bliss in her arms.
Gabby was starting to doze off, and Nick took a deep breath for encouragement before starting to speak. “Hey, I’ve got some good news for you.”
“Hmm.”
She turned over, shimmying her curvy backside so that it fit to his like a perfect, soft puzzle piece against his body. He loved it when she was like this. Soft and relaxed. Maybe he should just tell her later.
“What is it, Nick?” Her voice pulled on a sharp edge.
“You know the Sutton account.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it looks like they’re not dead just yet. As a matter of fact Mrs. Sutton wants to meet with you.”
Gabby jumped up and turned around to look at him, pulling up the sheet. “Why in the world would she want to meet with me?”
He flashed her a smile, hoping for the best. “Because I talked with her about cutting some divisions and expanding on some others. I also talked about her quality fabrics and developing more of that, and the fact that she doesn’t have a plus-size division and how that could be a missed opportunity.”
Gabby’s eyes narrowed.
“So you told her all my ideas?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t like that.”
“And you didn’t run it by me first?”
“Sorry, I didn’t think I had to. And what’s the problem? She loved them and she wants to meet with you. This could be a great opportunity for you. She could possibly hire you. You need a job and I’m sure she can use a talented designer like you. What wrong with that?”
Gabby held up her hand. “Stop.” She grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her body, leaving him cold. “The problem is you told my ideas without my permission. She could just take it to whoever she’s got working there now and run with it, and poof, they’re expanding into a full size range, and I would be out because you ran your mouth. And really, why would they hire someone like me anyway? It’s not like I fit the All-American, Ivy League image of the Sutton brand, so what’s the use?”
“Gabby, I was just trying to help. You need a job, and they need you. I thought it would be the perfect fit.”
But she just shook her head, refusing to take in his words. It was so incredibly frustrating. Like she was the only one who could say anything that would actually have meaning. Nick had had it. “Shit, Gabby, you can’t be the only one able to show love in this relationship.”
Gabby froze. Standing still, she looked at him in shock. He froze too, just as surprised at himself that the words had come out of his mouth, but he couldn’t help it. It was what he felt. Love and anger and frustration all rolled up into one hopeful ball of fire. He stared at her.
Finally Gabby spoke, the words coming out on a soft choke. “I’m going to take a bath. Obviously, you’re living in another world than I am.” And with that Gabby clutched at the sheet like a life preserver and ran out of the room.
Nick let out the breath he was holding. He flopped back on the bed. In his mind’s eye, he stared at the hot ball of anger and kicked it with his foot hard. Fuck. He should have kept his mouth shut. Kept things as they were and never said a thing to Gabby. She was way too proud to take a thing from anyone and definitely not him. After everything that had changed between them, she still didn’t trust him.
Rubbing his head in frustration, he got up and went to the kitchen. He knew Gabby and knew she’d be in the tub for at least a half hour. Checking the fridge he noticed her creamer was low. Great, something else for her to be pissed about. He threw on his clothes and went to the bathroom door. He’d make her some coffee, sit her down, and get her to see reason. Take the emotion that he’d mistakenly put into the equation out of it and put it back to rights. This would work out. It would all be fine. “I’ll be back,” he yelled. “I’m running to the store.”
• • •
Gabby had just finished toweling her hair and slipped on her old shorts and an easy V-neck tee when there was a pounding at the front door. She frowned at the intrusion but then realized it must be Nick or a neighbor since the downstairs buzzer hadn’t rung. She still wasn’t quite ready to face him. She felt bad about running off to the bath. She was a coward for not addressing his love relationship comment head on. But how could she? She needed time to process it. Let it sit with her psyche for a minute to see if she could believe it was real. When he’d said it, he sure did sound like he’d meant every word. He’d truly seemed sincere. And was him talking to Mrs. Sutton about her ideas such a bad thing? It’s not like the idea to start a plus-size line or use eco-friendly fabrics was proprietary information. Nick hadn’t shared her sketches or anything like that. Maybe it just meant he actually believed in her. Hope threatened to bud in her chest when the knock came at the door again.
Gabby took
a quick self-assessment. She was without makeup, barefoot, and her hair was still wet, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like she had plans. Jobless and without any interviews in the works, she didn’t have plans this whole week, except last-minute running around with Samara for the wedding next week. And then it was back to the joy of sending out resumes—for what? If this week didn’t turn up at least one viable option she was going on to plan B, which was applying early for holiday help at Macy’s. And if they ignored her, then it was on to plan C which was hello Starbucks. The idea of a coffee discount did have a lovely appeal. The rent had to be paid regardless.
As she walked toward the door the knock came again. Quicker and more insistent. “I’m coming. Just a minute!”
Gabby looked through the peephole just in case it wasn’t Nick and suddenly pulled back. Fan-freaking-tastic. She ran her fingers though her messy hair and let out a sigh before she reluctantly opened the door to a perfectly coifed Claire Elliot.
She looked gorgeous in her all-white ensemble. Designer jeans and a tee that probably ran her two hundred bucks but was supposed to look like it cost next to nothing. Diamond studs blinged at her ears and a simple gold bracelet and ten-thousand-dollar watch flashed at her wrists. She’d dressed the outfit down with cute blue Keds on her feet, as if to say, “See, I’m regular folk just like you.” She gave Gabby the briefest of onceovers, taking in her dark ensemble. The old shorts and tee and wet hair on a Saturday afternoon all drew the pretty blonde’s lips downward, but after a moment she washed it away and smiled, her baby blues flashing.
She looked around Gabby’s shoulder hesitantly as if she may be peeking in on a crack den. “Hey, Gabby, great to see you again. Is Nick here?”
Her high, cheerleader voice made Gabby suddenly want to throw up. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. Be pleasant, she told herself. Your argument is not with this woman. She’s done nothing to you. Invite her in. Nick will be right back. ”He’s not here.”
“Oh.” Claire looked sullen. She poked her lip out. “And I came all the way up here too.”
Poor dear, Gabby thought as she stared at the woman who was before her eyes turning into a whining child.
Claire gave a pretty huff. “Well then, there is nothing to be done. I’m sure I can give this to you.”
It was then that Gabby noticed the garment bag she was holding in the hand over her shoulder.
“And what is that?” Gabby asked.
Claire beamed. “It’s his tuxedo for Samara Leighton’s wedding. Nick will be so dapper. We had it made custom. I can’t wait to see him in it. And my dress is one of a kind right off the runway in Paris.” She then let out a little trill of laughter that went right through Gabby’s body, cutting her like jagged glass.
Gabby stared at the woman holding out the garment bag.
“And hey, I can’t wait to see the dress you made for Samara. It’s so nice, you having a friend like her, and her giving you such a shot. It’s not many who would be so charitable to go with an unknown. I’m sure you’ll do a really sweet job.”
Gabby just continued to stare. She didn’t have a quick comeback or a quip or anything to say. So she just nodded and took the bag that was handed to her. She heard Claire say “Make sure he gets it” as she closed the door quietly behind her.
She unzipped the bag and ran her hand down the lapel of the suit. The worsted material was fine and tight. So fine that it was smooth to her touch—not a rough buckle under the pads of her fingers. In her mind’s eye she could imagine him in it. His tall figure and broad shoulders in all that black and white would be breathtaking. She saw him taking her hand and spinning her as he’d done in their living room not so long ago, but then it faded and was replaced by the clearer image of a more striking, more polished, more beautiful Claire. The image flowed perfectly. It just fit. Gabby pulled her hand away from the suit. She lifted the garment bag and gently placed it on her bed.
It was a final goodbye to their playing house. Then she turned away, went to her closet, pulled out her own garment bag, and started to pack.
Chapter 20
“Wake the fuck up and tell me where the hell my roommate is!”
Nick opened bleary eyes and looked into the dark ones of his brother.
“What the hell are you being so rough for, and how the hell would I know?” he ground out.
Steve cocked his head, confusion washing over his expression along with a large hint of danger. Shit, he looked furious. “She’s not answering my calls even though I’ve been calling for the past twenty-four hours, and the fact that you’re sleeping naked in her bed tells me you’d better damned well know, or get ready for an ass kicking.”
Nick rubbed at his eyes and looked at the clock by Gabby’s bed. 11:30. He looked back at his brother. He didn’t have an answer for him. It had been a week and he hadn’t seen Gabby. He’d come back from his coffee run to find her just gone. No note, no nothing, just the fucking tuxedo on her bed and that was it. She wasn’t returning his calls and wouldn’t let him explain anything about Claire or the tuxedo or the fact that it had been ordered way before they had gotten together. He didn’t plan on going to the wedding with Claire. But of course she wasn’t around for him to explain any of that. Ready to expect the worse of him, in no way ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, or to give them a chance.
She was fucking driving him up the wall and he was done. Through with her. She was right. It was what he’d told himself all that time. He was no good for her, and she’d seen it clearly. His stupid housekeeping dreams were just that. Stupid dreams. Well he was seeing clearly now. He’d learned his lesson, despite the fact that he was acting like a sick puppy pining away, sleeping in her bed. She could kick rocks and go to hell. He was moving on.
He looked up into Steve’s eyes that so mirrored his own. “How the fuck should I know? She probably wiggled her ass over to somebody else’s bed this week.”
Shit. Nick didn’t even see the fist coming as it came down hard and fast on his left eye.
• • •
Samara looked like a dream. Gabby sucked in a breath and blinked back tears as she arranged the train one last time before Sam walked down the aisle. Her friend looked down at her and smiled as she held her hand down to pull her up. Gabby came to her feet and looked into her eyes. “You look so beautiful.”
“Hey, it’s all due to you and your talent. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” Sam looked down and admired her dress. It really had turned out well, and Gabby had to admit that she was happy with the job. She adjusted Sam’s veil just a notch. “And hey, I barely compare to you. You are going to turn so many heads in your dress. My god you’re the hottest maid of honor since that Pippa,” Sam said with a grin.
“I doubt that, but thanks anyway. I’ll be happy if I just make it down the aisle without tripping and falling flat on my face. I’m sure half of New York is in attendance. Not to mention, your groom would kill me, if I did anything to hold you up getting down the aisle.” Gabby grinned then blinked at her friend again, getting choked up.
“Don’t you dare,” Sam said. “You’re supposed to be my rock today. Crying is for wimps.” Sam started to blink too, and Gabby forced a smile.
“Yeah, wimps and girls marrying their superhero for the second time. I’m so happy for you.”
Sam caught her in a warm hug, not minding her makeup or her beading. Gabby was so grateful for her friend, who’d immediately turned over her guest room to her last week, no questions asked. Sam was essentially living across the hall with Mark anyway and Gabby was grateful to have something to do, submerging herself in helping out with last-minute arrangements for today’s big event.
She carefully let Sam go, checking once more to be sure she was arranged perfectly, and then handed her off to the proud arm of her father, the legendary mogul and real estate tycoon Howard Leighton. Gabby fought to still her mind as the strains from the harp and the violin started up. She hoped once again that Steve was somewher
e out there. She’d gotten his messages that he was coming, but would be late, having just gotten a break in shooting and catching the first flight she would get. It would be hard seeing her friend after all this time and keeping the secret about Nick from him, but it would make her so happy to be back in his assuring presence once again. Besides she didn’t really want to face the reception all alone.
All at once, the doors opened and there was no more time to think on her fears, as they were all staring her in the face. Gabby swallowed and took a slow step forward.
• • •
The wedding was a success and the reception was in full swing. There was a crowd gathered around watching Samara and Mark make a regal turn around the dance floor. Gabby had received so many complements on Sam’s gown and was feeling quite flattered. She’d just thanked a friend of Mrs. Leighton when another woman walked up to her. “You really are all he said you were.”
“Excuse me?” Gabby looked down at the well-dressed woman with confusion. Then her eyes got wide. It was that Mrs. Sutton from Nick’s lunch. Her face immediately heated.
“I’m talking about Mr. Ross. You know, Nick? He couldn’t stop singing your praises and now I see why.” She motioned to Samara and then looked over Gabby’s dress with critical eyes. “Is this one of yours too?”
Gabby instinctively stood taller. “It is.”
The woman gave her an appreciative nod. “It’s also quite lovely. He was right. You have a rare eye. And he does too. I saw that at lunch.”
Gabby frowned. “I’m sorry, but you have me confused again. What did you see at lunch?”
“At lunch, I saw that his good sense doesn’t just apply when it comes to numbers. Reminded me of my late husband.” Mrs. Sutton chuckled, and got a wistful look. “Oh, there he was, supposedly with one woman and he could not care less.” She leaned in conspiratorially, as if confessing a secret. “He only had eyes for you, honey. That man was gone from the word go. And then the way he sold me on your idea—which is good by the way. I don’t know why we are losing out on a potential market there. It just makes no sense. Well, it told me he was smart and passionate. That he believes in you.”
Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) Page 18
