Love Redesigned

by Jenny Proctor

  I had to get Alex out of my head.

  “Oh, right. You want me to . . . confirm?”

  She breathed out an annoyed sigh. “I want you to push it to tomorrow morning. What’s gotten into you today?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just distracted. I’ll take care of the appointment.”

  “Thank you. But go clean yourself up first. You’re starting to smell.”

  Chase sifted through a rack of sales samples from last season. “How do you feel about black?” He pulled out a black sheath dress and held it up.

  “Black is great, but no way these hips are fitting in that dress.”

  Chase looked me over. “True. What about this one?” He pulled out another. “With the flared skirt, you’d have a little more room.”

  “Here. Let me try.” I stepped behind another rack of dresses and peeled off my wet clothes before shimmying into the new dress. It was strapless—a little more Friday night than regular workday—but it fit great and it was dry. I spotted a white button-down on a different rack and reached for it. “Can I have this too?” I asked Chase.

  “Fine by me,” he said over his shoulder, his back respectfully turned while I changed. “This is all heading down to the basement for the sample sale next month. No one will miss it.”

  I put on the shirt, cinching it up and tying it just under my bust line, then rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. “There. Does it work?”

  He turned around. “Throw on a chunky necklace and you just improvised yourself a killer outfit.” He picked up my discarded dress and hung it up. “And this . . . this is definitely a Dani original.” He fingered the lace. “I like.”

  I shrugged my shoulders playfully. “I know a thing or two about fashion.”

  “More than Sasha, that’s for sure.”

  I looked over his shoulder at the closed sample room door. It wasn’t likely anyone would walk in and hear us, but the door wasn’t locked, which made me nervous. Chase was the only person at LeFranc who knew just how much involvement I had with Sasha’s designs.

  “Do you remember the navy dress she pulled out of the collection last week?”

  “Yours, right? Except, she wanted to do it in teal charmeuse?” He rolled his eyes.

  “Isabelle couldn’t do it,” I said with a grin. “She called Sasha this morning and said she can’t make the fabric work.”

  “Of course she couldn’t. Alicio himself couldn’t make box pleats work with charmeuse. Does that mean we’re doing it in the navy?”

  “Yep.”

  He held up his hand for a high five. “Look at you, getting a dress into a premiere LeFranc collection.”

  I raised my hands in mock victory. “And look at me not getting credit for it.”

  His face fell. “I hate that woman.”

  “Don’t hate her. She’s good to me.”

  “She’s good to you so she can keep using you.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said. Even as I said it, I knew my words weren’t true.

  “It’s exactly like that,” Chase said. “And it’s about time you wake up and see it.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Please don’t, Chase.”

  “Don’t what? Tell you you’re better than this? That she doesn’t deserve your loyalty?”

  “Don’t stomp all over my hope,” I said.

  “No.” He waved a finger in front of my face. “I’m not letting you pin your hopes on her. How many times has she told you she’s going to talk to Alicio about your designs? How many times has she promised she’ll introduce you, let him know”—he held up his fingers in air quotes and pitched his voice high in a remarkably accurate impression of Sasha—“just what you’re capable of? You don’t need that woman,” he continued. “You’ve got more talent in the end of your nose than she has in her entire surgically enhanced body. And that’s why I don’t think she’s ever going to tell Alicio about you. You’re a threat. Right now, she’s got you where she can control you. You do the work, she gets the credit. As long as you’re willing to do her bidding, I don’t see her screwing that up. At least not on purpose.”

  My jaw tensed. “It’s easy for you to be critical because you already have your dream job. What else am I supposed to do?”

  There was more he wanted to say. I could tell by the way the corner of his mouth kept twitching. But he was too good a friend to push me further. “Just don’t rely on her alone, okay? Watch the job board. If anything in the design room opens up, tell me and I’ll submit a recommendation for you.”

  He’d made the offer before. But odds were against anything opening up. Internships, sure. But not the real deal. Working at LeFranc was a dream job for any designer, not just me. Turnover was rare.

  “You know I’ll stand by your work, Dani.” He reached over and squeezed my arm. “You deserve it.”

  I pulled my still-coffee-sticky hair into a messy bun on top of my head, pulling a few strands loose around my face. “What do you think?” I asked Chase. “Passable?”

  He looked up from the tray of jewelry he’d been sorting through. “Perfect. You just need this.” He held up a strand of chunky turquoise pearls, motioning for me to turn around so he could secure the clasp around my neck.

  “Seriously? Can I keep?”

  “Like I said, no one will miss anything from in here.” He turned me around, hands on either shoulder. “There. Now you really are perfect.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Chase grabbed the coffee-stained dress before turning toward the door. “I’m getting this cleaned for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I reached for it. “I’ll drop it off on my way home.”

  He waved my hand away. “Whatever. I want to. Plus, I know a guy. It’ll look as good as the day you made it.”

  “You’re too good to me.”

  “Speaking of how wonderful I am,” Chase said, tossing me a grin, “I almost forgot. Darius asked me to give this to you.” He pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket and handed it over. “He said you’d know what it was and would probably scream the second it was in your hands.”

  My eyes went wide. “Seriously? It’s done?”

  Chase threw up his hands, the dress draped over his wrist bumping into my side. “I have no idea. Darius told me nothing.”

  “Oh my word. It’s done, it’s done, it’s done!” It was all I could do not to actually jump up and down with excitement.

  “Why are we so excited?!” Chase whisper yelled.

  I took a deep, calming breath. “It’s Elliott Hart’s new album. Darius did the sound mixing and he told me he would sneak me a copy as soon as it was finished. I thought I still had weeks to wait.”

  “Elliott Hart. Is that the piano guy you love so much?”

  “Yes!” I followed Chase to the sample room door. “And it’s been forever since he released any new stuff. I guess he got married and had a kid or whatever. But this!” I held up the thumb drive. “This feels like gold in my hands.”

  “That Darius,” Chase said. “He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?” He opened the door and led the way to the elevator where he pushed the button to take us back up to the fifth floor.

  “Oh, he’s my favorite,” I said, my face serious. “No question. I mean, I know I technically met you first and that maybe you deserve some sort of loyalty for that, but really. Darius is special.”

  Chase thrust the dress back at me. “I take it back. You can take care of your own dry cleaning.”

  I sniffed primly. “Maybe I’ll ask Darius to do it.”

  Chase chuckled. “He’d probably do it. I’m the nicest person in New York City and he still makes me look like the kitten-kicking uncle no one wants at Christmas dinner.”

  The man Chase had married five years ago really was embodied perfection. He was gorgeous, for one, tall and suave, with beautiful brown skin and this velvet voice that sounded like music even when he was saying the most basic things. But he also had the best h
eart—better than anyone I’d ever known. He was gentle and forgiving and always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.

  His relationship with Chase kept me hoping I’d eventually be in love again myself. They effortlessly supported each other with this quiet, steady devotion; it was the kind of relationship I might not have believed was actually real if I hadn’t known them both so well, if I hadn’t witnessed it firsthand on an almost daily basis.

  It was also the kind of relationship that might have made me burn with jealousy if I hadn’t loved them both as much as I did.

  The elevator doors dinged open and Chase and I stepped inside. “You’re going to get him fired if you don’t stop begging for advance copies,” Chase said. “You know he’ll never tell you no.”

  “Darius is the best sound engineer Blaze Records has. They won’t fire him. Plus, I don’t beg. This is the only album I’ve ever asked him for.”

  “If we don’t count the Jenna Fields album he gave you last Christmas.”

  My mouth dropped open. “That was a gift!”

  Chase laughed. “Right. And you didn’t drop any hints that you wanted it.”

  I smiled sheepishly and shrugged my shoulders, the thumb drive held tightly in my hands. “Please tell Darius thank you and I love him dearly.”

  Two hours later, I was back at my desk, earbuds in my ears and sketchbook open in front of me. I still had fifteen minutes of a lunch break I’d finally managed to squeeze into the afternoon hours, so I used the time to brainstorm new dress ideas. I cranked up the volume on the new Elliott Hart album, which was every bit as fantastic as I had expected. Ten seconds into the next song, Chase pulled one of my earbuds out and stuck it into his own ear. “How is it? Everything you hoped for and more?”

  “Yes. Amazing. Brilliant. Astounding. I love him and wish I could marry him and his amazing piano hands.”

  Chase dropped into the chair across from my desk, then tossed a furtive look over his shoulder.

  I followed his gaze but didn’t see anything that looked alarming. “What’s up with you?”

  He gave his head a tiny shake. “Quick. Act natural. Like I’ve got a reason to be here.”

  “What? Why?”

  He tossed another glance over his shoulder. Who was he expecting to see? “Because Mylie told me not to tell you anything. She didn’t want me to ruin the surprise.”

  “What are you talking about? What surprise?”

  He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “How’s your dating life?”

  “My dating life?”

  “Sure. You met anyone new?”

  “Chase, what is going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  I shot him a look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He looked for Mylie one more time, then leaned forward, leaning his elbows onto my desk. “Spill it, Dani. Who’s the man?”

  I echoed his movements, leaning forward so our faces were barely a foot apart. “What man?”

  He threw his hands in the air and sighed. “Gah. You’re impossible.”

  Seconds later, Mylie, LeFranc’s receptionist, rounded the corner, a long, thin box in her hands. When she saw Chase, her smile dropped. “Seriously? You had to run ahead and tell her?”

  Chase smiled innocently. “Tell her what? We were just chatting.” He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, revealing his socks—bright pink and yellow paisley. It made me smile.

  As a gay man in his twenties, living in New York and working in fashion, Chase almost had a moral obligation to be respectably fashionable himself. His look wasn’t flashy at all—very tailored, very clean—but his socks were reliably colorful, a pop of something to echo the color of his tie, or the pinstripe of his vest.

  As a designer, Chase’s eye for color was his greatest strength. He was a master at pulling out accent colors, adding just the right something to make pieces work. For the other designers, it was maddening. How he could look at a piece and say with astounding conviction, “It needs turquoise,” or, “Cut the yellow and add peach instead.” The smart ones listened to him. As long as I’d known him, he’d never steered me wrong.

  Mylie huffed and dropped the box onto my desk. “These were delivered for you, Dani.” She eyed the card.

  I didn’t move from my chair. Just sat there, my arms folded across my chest. “Thanks.”

  She tapped her toe impatiently. “Aren’t you going to read the card?”

  I was completely baffled as to who might have sent me flowers, but there was no way I was going to satisfy Mylie’s insatiable need to know everyone else’s business. I lifted my shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t need to open it. My dad sends me flowers on my birthday every year. I know they’re from him.”

  “Oh,” Mylie said, making no effort to conceal her disappointment. “That’s not very exciting.” She turned and walked back toward her desk.

  “Your birthday’s not for another three weeks,” Chase said.

  I reached for the card. “But Mylie doesn’t know that.”

  He grinned. “Then there is something you need to tell me.”

  “I swear there’s nothing to tell! Your guess is as good as mine as to who these are from.” I slid the square card out of its envelope. The paper was thick cardstock, with a tiny satin trim.

  “Fancy,” Chase said over my shoulder.

  “Seriously? I can’t even read it first?”

  “Fine, fine,” he huffed. He took a step back but arched his neck like he was still trying to see.

  Dani—I feel responsible for what happened at the coffee shop. I know flowers can’t replace your dress. Hopefully they can brighten your day. I want you to know I’ll be at dinner tonight with you and Isaac. I didn’t want you to be blindsided. –Alex PS. I hope this is enough to cover the dry cleaning.

  Two twenty-dollar bills fluttered to my lap, but I hardly noticed them.

  I handed Chase the card and sank back into my chair. Alex would be at dinner?

  How? Why?

  “Wait, is this Alex Alex? Your Alex?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “LeFranc’s Alex?”

  I nodded. “But why is he going to be at dinner with my brother?”

  “Uh, more importantly, why didn’t you tell me you ran into him at Java Jean’s?”

  Chase had been Alex’s friend as much as he was mine. Which was maybe the reason I hadn’t told him. He knew too much. And he knew me too well. He’d hear in my words exactly how unmoored I felt, like a skiff in a flood tide. I sat, unmoving, so Chase reached for the flowers, carefully lifting the lid off the box. He whistled and handed the box to me. A dozen roses lay inside, their petals a vibrant orange.

  “I think you need to tell me what happened,” Chase said.

  I shrugged and shook my head. “There isn’t much to tell. I ordered coffee, he came in behind me. We spoke for twenty seconds, he tried to apologize, I told him to stop, then I ran away.”

  “Right into the Cappuccino machine,” Chase said, his voice light.

  “Shut up.”

  “So how was it to see him again?” Chase asked. “How did he look?”

  I sighed. “He was wearing Armani.”

  Chase echoed my sigh with his own. “Armani,” he repeated softly.

  “I guess this is for you,” I said, holding up the cash. “For the dry cleaning.”

  Chase pushed it away. “I don’t want it. I’ll never catch Darius at this rate.”

  I grinned. “Catch Darius in the imagined niceness competition that doesn’t actually matter because I love you both the same?” I held up one of the bills. “Split it with me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He tucked the money into his pocket. “It wasn’t him you ran into, right? It was nice of him to think of the dry cleaning.”

  “It was a random guy at the door. But if I hadn’t been running away . . .”

  “Hmm. Good point. Alex always was thoughtful, wasn’t he?”

  I held u
p a finger. “Don’t get distracted. We are not reminiscing here.” I pushed the flowers aside and pulled my cell phone out of my top drawer. “I can at least figure out the answer to one question.” Determination filled my voice.

  I tapped out a text to Isaac. Why is Alex Randall coming to dinner tonight?

  B/C I invited him, Isaac immediately replied.

  I rolled my eyes. Thanks for the information, genius. WHY did you invite him?

  I drummed my fingers on the desk waiting for Isaac to respond. He works for me, he finally texted. I told you that right after I hired him.

  He had to be kidding. TO BE YOUR TAX ACCOUNTANT. Are you the reason he’s in New York?

  He’s not my tax accountant. He’s my business manager.

  I froze. Why did Isaac need a business manager? WTH??? Why? Doing what?

  Making the Nutella sandwiches, Isaac said. Why are you being weird about this?

  “So?” Chase asked. “What’s the verdict?”

  I put my phone down, my brows drawn close together in confusion. “He’s my brother’s business manager.”

  Sasha’s door opened and she appeared. “Dani, have you—” She paused. “Oh. Hello, Chase. Nice to see you working so hard.” As a senior designer, Sasha technically outranked Chase, but she wasn’t his boss. Other than her influence with Alicio, she couldn’t do much to hurt him.

  He stood, shooting her a look I’d never have the nerve to give and sauntered past her. “I’ll go toe to toe with you any day,” he said. “Later, Dani.”

  “A little less socializing, a little more working, Dani,” Sasha said. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

  I hastily replaced the lid on the flower box and shifted it to the back of my desk. “Of course. Sorry about that.”

  “Did you take care of the navy dress?”

  I nodded. “Everything’s all set.”

  “And you checked on my appointment for tomorrow morning? If I’m not out of here by noon, it will ruin the entire weekend.”

  “Everything is confirmed,” I said. “The writer from Elite will be here at nine. And I’ve arranged for the samples from the spring line to be brought to your office by five today so they’re ready for her preview in the morning.”