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“That doesn’t mean anything…be attentive, Nadia. Hayden loves beautiful women. You will be on his Vespa next.”
“No way.” I playfully swatted his arm and Wyatt laughed.
Laurence pulled up and climbed out of the Mercedes.
I greeted him warmly and introduced them. Wyatt climbed in first, and I was about to climb in, but hesitated. My focus went to Hayden and his Vespa. Our eyes connected, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d say he waited for me to look at him.
Hayden seemed curious.
But I looked too. So what does that say about me?
Mom had left a text message.
Mom: I told Gunnar I was worried about you at the airport. He must have organized for Laurence to pick you up. I hope that was okay. We’re fine here. We love you. Enjoy Paris.
I admonished myself for not sending a message earlier. A quick check of the time, and it was Dad’s physical therapy time. I wrote back.
Nadia: Sorry I didn’t update you. The press was there and aggressive. I’m glad Laurence came, so thank you and don’t worry. I love you. Tell Dad I’m fine and miss you both. TTYS.
Laurence had taken me to shops for fabric before, but Wyatt had different ideas. He spoke with Laurence in French and directed him to Montmartre. I could see the Moulin Rouge and knew I’d been nearby before. The area had beautiful, picturesque stone shops with decorative signage, along with cobblestone pavements that made us tourists lose our heads every time. My gaze rose to the top of the hill at the Basilica of Sacre-Coeur, the big white church. Its dome was a beacon of light even in the last rays of sunlight. As the late summer sky was now edged with dark hues, bringing on the night.
Wyatt touched my arm. “The fabric shops I’m showing you are not high end, but it’s a good place to find something unique that may become the next trend.” We rode along the Boulevard de Clichy, where there were many retail shops, street painters, restaurants, cheese, chocolate, wine, and museums. I was in another level of heaven. There were also a few sex shops. Something I miss from having it so good.
We left the car and went into the first store. It instantly reminded me of my fabric hunting when I started at New York School of Design. And like before, the discount fabric shop was a gold mine. Wyatt was well esteemed in textiles and construction. He’d been given much more complex work to do, which led me to believe he’d been working for a while. I found textures, patterns, and colors that filled my head with ideas. We both had a few bags before we caught up with Laurence again a few blocks over.
“How long have you been designing?” I asked.
“Two years professionally. I was a model, like Hayden. Designing was a natural step.” His phone went off. “It’s Josephine. We are all meeting up for dinner with Ellie and Patrick.” It was close to ten.
I scrunched up my face. “Isn’t it quite late?”
He grinned. “Not at all. It’s a good time to eat.”
I wanted to work on some of the work they handed out for us today. “Maybe another time.”
“If you change your mind.” He gave me the address.
Laurence took us to Wyatt’s apartment building. It was one with door-sized windows that I’d admired online and so much like the one I had chosen for myself.
He kissed my cheeks. “Hope to see you later.”
Laurence and I rode back to the house, and along the way I had new doubts. Was I even qualified to get such a prestigious opportunity? I can barely speak French. I’ve only one year of design under my belt….
“Nadia, are you going to dinner?” Laurence interrupted my thoughts. He’d parked, and I hadn’t gotten out of the car.
“Not tonight. I’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Work already? You just arrived.”
I stood by him and the open trunk. “If I do go out, what will you do?” I hated the idea of Laurence all alone.
“I have a social life and friends here too, Nadia.” He laughed and threw a pretend scarf over his shoulder. “You are free to enjoy yourself. In fact, I insist.”
Maybe, but when I reached the studio, and took out my bags, I became lost in work. I sent a message to Professor Elan and asked her about some of my ideas for feedback. By the time I finished listening to French phrases, working on patterns, and sewing, it was almost midnight. I smiled and went to the kitchen and made an espresso. Just like college.
“Bonjour.” I sang out with a smile and kissed Wyatt’s cheeks.
The first week at Givenchy was hard, but now, after almost finishing the second, I set up a breakfast meeting on my own. As for my designs, my test samples from the lead designers were returned with no more than five changes. I hated having to think before I spoke, but hearing French all the time was becoming less jarring.
