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I don’t dare mention the half-dozen unreturned phone calls because, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. My grand gesture was always planned as a surprise. Another secret I kept from her. “Never. You’re too talented. No matter what scraps life tosses your way, you find a way to turn it into something beautiful—you always have.” I pray she can see herself the way I do.
“So, you decide to raise the degree of difficulty to test me?” She steps forward and smacks my arm. “What the hell was that last move? A few days ago, you couldn’t walk twenty feet in the café without dropping something. And now this? Can you see how this makes me question everything you say or do?”
She backs me into a corner, and I only have one play. “I care for you, Zara. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life. You’re fierce, passionate, and talented. I’d like a chance to show you the real me. I’d like another chance at an us.”
“A second chance? A third chance? What number are we up to?” she asks the question of herself. An indictment of what I’vecreated. “You think a few runway poses can stitch up the seams you’ve torn apart between us?”
“It’s a start. And if any two people can stitch things back together, I like our odds.”
She turns away from me. Arms crossed again, her gaze stares out to the distance. “You’re going to be in a movie with Xenia. You’re going to be a Hollywood star. Red carpet premieres and parties on expensive yachts. That’s your future.” I pace in front of her, the need to see the expression on her face overwhelming. She nibbles her lower lip, hesitant to continue, but she does. “You’re handsome. And talented. You could be with anyone you desire. Why an overcaffeinated designer who has never even managed her own clothing line?”
“Because just the way you see my future success, I see yours. Our jobs don’t define us. I see a kind, caring woman who loves her little sister. Someone who I know will be just as loving to the special man she allows in her life. Surely your future self sees this?”
My words finally reach her. She lowers her hands, glancing at me. “Devon, I…” she falters, and I hold my breath. “This”—she waves her arms out toward the arena—“is a lot to process in one day.”
“Time? You need time?” She already has enough stress on her shoulders. The last thing I want to do is add to it. “Of course.”
“No promises.” I choose to ignore the resignation in her voice.
“No promises, just a chance.” That’s all I can ask for; it’s more than I deserve.
“Don’t wait for me, Devon. If some Hollywood starlet makes a move on you on set…”
“It’ll never happen,” I cut her off before the image buries its way into her subconscious. “I only have eyes for you.” I give her the assurances she needs. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait for your call. I’ll wait for you to cast me. To be on the stage of life next to you. Becausebeing with you will always be my most treasured role. The role I’ve always been meant to play.”
***
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zara
One week later
I stare at the tic-tac-toe grid on the screen in front of me, my daily call with my office. My knees bounce from the staccato beat my toes force from pressing on the footrest of the café stool. This is the fifth day in a row I’ve told myself to remain courageous and do what I know is right for me. The last four days, I’ve chickened out.
“Next week, we’ll name the lead for the special holiday line for the Gyriss collection,” Christine drops the news as if I hadn’t already learned they’ve decided to pass me over yet again. “With that, any other business?”
I glance over my shoulder, a habit I’ve been unable to break. He’s not here, yet my eyes continue to search for him. My stupid heart continues to pound hard for him. My soul still longs for him. Mrs. Whitehead’s words ring in my ears,In our jobs, we all play a role.I’m not exempt.
I press the keyboard shortcut and watch my digital hand flash on the screen. “Zara? You have a question?” I hear the shockin Christine’s voice. The message is clear as the bright sun streaming through the café window,You’re supposed to sit in the corner quietly and not say a word.
“Yes, I just wanted to give my notice. I’m resigning,” I push out the words I should have said five days ago. Words I should have uttered five months ago. This firm doesn’t respect me or what I bring to the table. After the pitch, I expected to come down from that high and return to normal. But I haven’t. My brain has been in overdrive ever since. I wake up every morning, energized with design ideas. Itching to sketch and plan, only to be reminded of my nine to five, which not only sucks away time but also my creative energy.
Regardless of what the Magic decides, I know I’m talented. I can compete with the top firms out there. My voice matters. And I’ll no longer let it be muted.
“Resigning?” Christine’s face says all the words she doesn’t.How ridiculous, whatever will you do? You’ll be homeless within a month. “I’m not sure what to make of that. This isn’t really the proper forum.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing proper about this group. My formal resignation is in your inbox. Along with my transition plan. I can stick around for two weeks to assist but am more than happy to make this my last call for this company. Your decision.” My knees stop bouncing, and I expect a wave of regret and tension to sweep over me—neither does.
I don’t have another job waiting for me. The fact that I haven’t heard from the Magic in nearly a week can only mean they’ve selected a different company for their design. But none of these matters. I’m no longer contented to watch and wait.
Christine lowers her head, her fingers flying across the keyboard. When I spot two of the other team members fail in their attempts to suppress laughter, I know what she’s doing. She’s typing an instant message to a group chat I’m not a part of.
An evil smile crosses her face as she stares into the screen. I’m no longer their patsy. I’m not waiting for their crumbs or their decision. “On second thought, I’ll notify security myself and have them revoke my access. I’m quitting at this moment. Good day.”
I disconnect from the Zoom call before they can speak, and I exhale. It’s done. I slam the door shut to a difficult chapter of my life and make a note of the time. Future me would want me to remember this detail.
It’s early, but I don’t hesitate to swipe the phone and connect. “I couldn’t wait, I just quit.”
