Tailor-Made

by Yolanda Wallace

  “I’m interested in you.”

  “That’s not enough for me, and you know that. That’s what I came over here tonight to tell you. I never meant for any of…this to happen.”

  “I didn’t have to twist your arm to convince you to go to bed with me, Grace. You came of your own free will. And quite loudly, I might add.”

  “I know I did. And I will treasure this night for the rest of my life, but—”

  Dakota finished the sentence for her. “You don’t want me in your life. If that’s how you feel, I’m not going to try to change your mind. Just do me one favor before you go.”

  “What?”

  “Be honest with me. It’s not your increased workload that’s driving you away. It’s something more fundamental, isn’t it? Something I can’t change and you can’t bring yourself to accept.” Grace lowered her eyes, confirming Dakota’s theory. Giving life to her fears. “I’m sorry I’m not woman enough for you.”

  Grace opened her mouth to respond, but her rebuttal seemed to die on her lips. Without a word, she gathered her discarded clothes and sought refuge in the bathroom. Dakota heard the faucet running as Grace gathered water in the sink. When she heard the bathroom door open a few minutes later, she turned and faced the wall so she wouldn’t have to watch Grace leave.

  “I’ll text you when your suit’s done,” Grace said softly. “I’ll understand if you decide you’d rather not meet with me for your final fitting. When the time comes, let me know what you’d prefer and I’ll ask my father to be on standby in case you’d rather deal with him instead of me.” She paused as if she were waiting for Dakota to respond. Dakota couldn’t bring herself to look at her, let alone speak. The pain was too great. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Good-bye, Dakota.”

  Dakota waited until she heard the front door close before she allowed her tears to fall. This was why she had never been willing to embark on a relationship. This was why she had never truly shared herself with anyone. Because she was afraid that the women who went to bed with the illusion wouldn’t want to wake up to the reality.

  She had thought Grace was different. She had thought Grace cared for her. All of her. When they had made love tonight, Grace had known exactly what to do and say to make her feel comfortable, desired and loved. In all her forms. But none of it was real. Grace liked the surprise inside the box, but she couldn’t get past the packaging.

  While she had listened to Grace say the words that had broken her heart in two, Dakota had been tempted to beg for a chance to prove her wrong—to prove they belonged together—but she had forced herself to hold her tongue. Hadn’t she already done enough to prove herself? Didn’t Grace already know what she was about?

  “Why should I fight for someone who isn’t willing to fight for me?”

  She picked up her phone and scrolled through her list of contacts. If she wanted, she could have someone else here in a matter of minutes. But what was the point in that? Though another woman could replace Grace in her bed, she wouldn’t be able to evict her from her heart.

  She found the number she was looking for and held the phone to her ear.

  “Hey, sis,” she said when Brooke picked up. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but do you have time to talk?”

  * * *

  Grace hadn’t meant to sleep with Dakota tonight. She had gone to Dakota’s place hoping to end things before either of them got hurt. Instead, she had accomplished exactly the opposite. Now both of them were suffering. And it was all her fault.

  She could still see the look on Dakota’s face when she had told her it was over. She could still hear the pain in Dakota’s voice when Dakota had asked her to explain the reason why.

  She had wanted to refute Dakota’s arguments, but she hadn’t been able to because, deep down, she had known what Dakota said was true. As much as she wanted to get past her issues over the way Dakota lived her life—the way Dakota lived her truth—she couldn’t stop tripping over the hurdle.

  She knew her father would be waiting up for her when she got home, but she didn’t feel up to facing him. She’d already had one emotional conversation tonight, and she didn’t think she could handle another one. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and begin to put this night behind her. Or try to.

  Her father was sitting on the couch when she unlocked the door. The TV was on, but it was watching him instead of the other way around. “I was just resting my eyes,” he said after he jerked awake.

  “Of course you were.”

  He looked at her and frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “I ended it. It’s over.”

  She didn’t bother explaining what she meant. She didn’t have to. She could tell he already knew. To his credit, he didn’t ask her to provide details. He simply walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, baby girl. One day, you’ll meet a woman who’s right for you.”

  Grace rested her head against his chest, hoping he was right. Hoping she hadn’t already met—and lost—the love of her life because she hadn’t been brave enough to accept her for who she was.

  Chapter Twenty

  A little over a week after Grace slept with her and kicked her to the curb, Dakota received a text from her. Even though she knew the message was most likely business-related and not personal, she couldn’t stop her heart from racing when she saw Grace’s name printed on her phone’s cracked screen. She couldn’t stop hoping the message was an invitation to make things right, not set up an appointment to check the fit of the suit she had ordered nearly six weeks before.

  Your suit’s ready, the message said. The fitting should take about fifteen minutes. When would you like to come by?

  Dakota wanted to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible, but she had two more deliveries to make before she would be able to take a break. Even though she longed to see Grace, being in close proximity with her would be tantamount to torture. Feeling Grace’s hands on her would bring back memories best left forgotten.

  Tell your father I’ll be there in an hour, she texted back.

  Will do.

  Dakota stashed her phone in the pouch on the back of her jersey, locked her bike outside a skyscraper on Wall Street, and headed inside. Riley Nichols, one of the uniformed security guards patrolling the lobby, smiled when she saw her approach. Riley was usually good for a few insider tips and a quick round of athletic sex in the supply closet, but Dakota wasn’t interested in either for a change. She had more than enough money to get by, and after Grace, the next woman she slept with would only pale in comparison.

  “See you later, Riles,” she said after she made her delivery.

  She headed to her next stop a few streets away, then caught the train to Brooklyn. After Lillie buzzed her into the building, she stepped into the elevator with mounting trepidation. How would Grace react when she walked into the office? More importantly, how would she? Her mutilated heart had barely begun to heal. Now she might be about to rip open the wound again.

  She needn’t have worried. When she walked into the workroom, Grace’s father rose to meet her, but Grace was nowhere in sight. Dakota could smell the faint aroma of Grace’s perfume in the air, but Grace’s desk and work area were empty.

  Dakota couldn’t hide her disappointment. Seeing Grace would have hurt, but not seeing her—knowing Grace was purposefully avoiding her—hurt even more.

  Seeming to recognize Dakota needed support, Lillie gave her a hug. “It’s good to see you, baby.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “Miss Lane? I’ve got your order right here.” Clarence Henderson held up a crisp white dress shirt and an impeccably tailored robin’s-egg blue suit. “Once you get changed, we can get started.”

  In the bathroom, Dakota took off her cycling gear and began to put on the clothes Grace had made for her. The shirt fit perfectly. Roomy through the shoulders but fitted at the waist. The sleeves ended right at her wrists instead of a few inches ab
ove or below them.

  She tried on the pants next. Like the shirt sleeves, the hems were the perfect length. The waist wasn’t too loose or too snug, meaning she wouldn’t have to cinch her belt extra tight to keep her pants from falling off or lower her zipper a few inches after she pigged out on a big plate of chicken wings.

  When she slipped on the jacket, she discovered the forgiving material afforded her plenty of freedom of movement. She didn’t feel like she was wearing a suit. She felt like she was wearing a second skin.

  The small mirror over the sink only allowed her to see herself from the chest up. She returned to the office and stood in front of the full-length mirror attached to the wall so she could see the whole picture. What she saw took her breath away. The questions that had seemed so invasive during her first meeting with Grace had served their purpose well. Grace had used her answers to get to know her. To find out what made her tick. Then she had created a suit to match. Dakota had never looked or felt more like herself. And it was all thanks to Grace.

  She could feel the care and love that had gone into crafting the suit. She could see it, too. In the unique touches here and there as well as the attention to detail throughout. And especially in the pride exhibited on Clarence Henderson’s face.

  “This is, without a doubt, the best work she’s ever done,” he said, slowly looking her over. “I don’t see any adjustments that need to be made. Do you?”

  “No, sir. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Neither would I.” He held the jacket’s lapel between his fingers, smiling at either the feel of the material or, more likely, the understated elegance of his daughter’s design. “When is the wedding supposed to take place?”

  “Next weekend. I’m flying home tomorrow so I can help my sister with some of the last-minute preparations. Her wedding planner’s supposed to be taking care of everything, but I’m sure there’ll be something that falls through the cracks. My main tasks will be drafting a speech to deliver at the reception and making sure the bride gets to the venue on time.”

  “Two worthwhile endeavors, to be sure, though one is much more important than the other.”

  “Yeah, my speech is going to be the highlight of the week. Once I write it, that is.”

  Mr. Henderson laughed from his gut instead of his chest. The latter would have meant he was only being polite. The former meant he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. He seemed like a cool dude. Dakota wished she’d had an opportunity to get to know him better. For him to get to know her. The real her, not the distorted version Grace’s sister had presented. Now it was too late.

  He held out his hand. “Tell your sister I said good luck.”

  “I will.”

  She turned to leave, but he didn’t let go.

  “I don’t know the full story of what happened with you and Grace. Though my daughters might say otherwise, I make it a rule not to get involved in their romantic entanglements. I’ve been around long enough to know that if two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back to each other.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true in Grace’s and my situation, but at the very least, you’ve given me a great idea for a speech.”

  He gave her hand a final squeeze. “We’ve all got to start somewhere.”

  And Dakota knew exactly where to begin.

  * * *

  Grace lingered in the fabric room until her father poked his head in the door to let her know the coast was clear.

  “It’s safe,” he said. “You can come out of hiding now.”

  “I wouldn’t call it hiding.”

  “No? Then what would you call it?”

  “Choosing not to cause a scene.” She hopped down off the bolster of merino wool she had been sitting on. “How did the fitting go? Did Dakota like the suit? Do I need to make any changes to it?”

  “The fitting went well, she loved the suit, and it’s perfect as is. Does that answer all of your questions?”

  “Not even close.” Because she was the only person who could provide the answers to the rest of her long list of queries, and she had chosen to ignore rather than address most of them.

  “She seems much different in person than she did on Hope’s phone,” Grace’s father said with a bemused chuckle. “It just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

  The comment struck a chord in Grace because it made her realize she had been doing exactly that. She had judged Dakota based on the way she presented herself and the questionable behavior attributed to her rather than by the things she had personally seen and heard her do. She should have chosen to base her opinion of Dakota on the way she conducted herself with those she cared about or the honorable way she treated everyone she came across, whether they were a friend or a stranger.

  The Dakota she had gotten to know didn’t mesh with the images of the drunk wild child cameras had caught puking in alleyways or hooking up with random women in public restrooms.

  She had used her concerns about Dakota’s reputation to mask her fear. She had been afraid of what others might say if she began a relationship with Dakota, but she had been even more afraid of the way Dakota made her feel. Dakota brought chaos to her orderly life. She never knew what to expect from her. Much to her surprise, she liked it. No, she loved it. She loved the uncertainty. The mystery. And more than anything else, she loved the woman—the person—behind both.

  When a wedding invitation came across her desk a few days later, she knew the perfect way to tell her so.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dakota stared at the empty seat next to hers. When she had arrived in Richmond Hill and sent Grace an invitation to Brooke’s wedding, she hadn’t really expected her to show. Storybook endings like that one were reserved for fairy tales and romance novels. Her life didn’t resemble either of those things. It never had and probably never would.

  Brooke’s wedding and reception hadn’t been held in a church but at a popular outdoor venue only five minutes from downtown Savannah. Brooke and Kevin had exchanged their vows in a flower-covered gazebo while their one hundred fifty guests looked on and the limbs of two hundred-year-old oaks swayed in the breeze. The stately three-story mansion that housed the reception was almost as old as the majestic trees shading it. Sophisticated but not too over-the-top, the venue served as the perfect locale for Brooke and Kevin to start their new life. A little bit country. A little bit city. Just like the two of them.

  Despite Brooke’s last-minute freak-out, she and Kevin were perfect for each other. Dakota could tell from the way they looked into each other’s eyes when they said “I do” and how they couldn’t stop giggling each time guests clinked their silverware against their water glasses, signaling for them to kiss. Dakota had never wanted a love like that. Now she didn’t know if she could live without it.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Dakota looked up from her half-eaten plate of rubbery chicken and soggy vegetables when her sister tapped her on the shoulder.

  Brooke looked stunning in her beaded off-the-shoulder wedding dress. She had ditched the veil she had worn down the aisle earlier that afternoon, but she was still clutching her bouquet. The traditional first couple’s dance and the bride’s dance with her father were out of the way. The garter and bouquet tosses were yet to come. Dakota planned to be a safe distance away when flowers and undergarments started flying through the air, but she and her sister had never been closer.

  “I’d be honored.”

  Dakota pushed her chair back from the table and followed Brooke to the dance floor, where several couples were cutting a rug to the strains of the Bruno Mars/Mark Ronson song the five-piece cover band was playing.

  “Thanks for that great speech you gave,” Brooke said as she held her bouquet in one hand and the hem of her wedding dress in the other. “I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

  Dakota raised her voice so Brooke would be able to hear her over the music. “Neither did I.”
/>   “You look amazing in that suit. I told Dad you look just like him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘Thanks, but even in my prime, I never looked that good.’”

  “Yeah,” Dakota said with a laugh. “That’s what he told me, too. He changed his tune after Mom pulled out a picture from when they first started dating. He and I could have passed for twins.”

  “Told you.”

  Instead of greeting her with his usual handshake or fly-by hug when he had picked her up from the airport a few days ago, her father had wrapped her in a bear hug and held on so long she had started to wonder if he planned to let go.

  Her mother had been almost as bad. “I don’t know what you did,” she had said, “but thank you for bringing Brooke back to us.”

  “That’s what families are for, right?”

  Dakota had been so happy she had burst into tears right there in the airport. Her father had thrown his arm around her shoulder and offered an unusual brand of comfort. “I know the Braves stink this year, but they’re not that bad, are they?”

  Dakota had laughed through her tears. “Can’t hit. Can’t pitch. I don’t think they can get much worse.”

  Her father had given her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry. There’s always next season.”

  In just a few minutes, all the animosity that had built up over the years had vanished. Her homecoming hadn’t been what she expected, but it had been everything she needed. Well, almost.

  “I’m sorry Grace didn’t show,” Brooke said as the band switched from an up-tempo song to a ballad, “but are you having a good time?”

  Dakota tried not to sneeze when Brooke placed the hand holding the bouquet on her shoulder and nearly shoved the roses halfway up her nose. “This is the best wedding you’ve ever thrown.”