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David wags a finger between us. “Because of this.” His gaze scans the café before returning to me. “I trust you. I got that sense the minute I walked into the arena. It was just you. You and me. Two businesspeople having a conversation. You were the only one who came in with just a laptop, confident enough to know your designs are all that mattered. And they did.
“Your designs have it all. Stylish, practical with an element of fun, and stunningly beautiful. They weren’t mass-produced, templated designs slapped together by a committee while juggling deadlines for a hundred other customers. You put in so many special touches that let me know you cared for my team as much as you cared for the first day at college shirt you designedfor your little sister. You put your heart into every design. And it shows.”
Water wells up in my eyes, and I pray I don’t start to cry. “You had my business even before your army showed up.”
I press my hands to my chest. David’s words knock away a doubt I knew I would always carry if he hadn’t. He chose my designs even before the runway show and before the Mister Magic dance performance. As much as I adored what Stacy and Devon did for me, I would always wonder whether I won the pitch on my talents or their performance.
Relief spreads through me. I’ve done it. I’ve made the one-in-a billion shot. “Thank you for trusting me with such an important collection. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t. And I look forward to working with you.” David stretches out his hand for a shake. He gives me a gentle squeeze. “When those other teams see what you can do, they’ll come sniffing around with offers, and they’ll remember we’re your number one client.”
I pull him into a quick hug. “Always,” I whisper. We share a laugh before he steps back and waves goodbye. “I’ll see you in my office Monday morning.”
“Monday,” I repeat his words and watch him leave. I stare at the door in disbelief this just happened. He’s chosen me. A million thoughts flash through my head, and I don’t know which to do first. I force myself to take a deep breath and trust my instinct.
My decision should surprise me. Of all the things to do, of all the people I want to share this news with. It’s him. I need to stop kidding myself that I don’t still carry strong feelings, that I still want an us.
It’s time I let him know the future me has decided. I choose him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Devon
Don’t get a speeding ticket.I repeat the mantra over and over as I exit the expressway and navigate the narrow streets of Crestline. My fingers squeeze the steering wheel tight, the Coffee Loft a mere minute away.
I replay my afternoon one last time. After Zara hung up on me when David showed up unannounced at the café, I held my breath. For twenty minutes, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. For twenty minutes, I debated, leaving the set and racing to her. For twenty minutes, I realized she was the most important thing in my life.
We’re slowly rebuilding what I nearly destroyed, and I must remember I can’t fast-forward to the good parts.
Twenty minutes later, she texts me with a cryptic message—I need you at the café tonight at seven p.m. Don’t call, don’t ask. I’ll explain when you arrive.
The minute my car turns the corner, I realize Zara is up to something. Something good. A tall man, dressed as a valet, whitecollared shirt, black pants, and vest, stands in the middle of the street, waving a flashlight in my direction.
He points toward the coffee shop. The entrance is adorned with a Hollywood premier velvet rope and a bright red carpet laid across the concrete from curb to door.
What’s going on?
Three dozen people crowd behind the velvet rope. Camera phones in hands point at me. I pull to the curb, and the valet pops open my door. I recognize the kid; he’s one of Stacy’s classmates.Of course.
“Welcome, Mr. Alexander. Miss Zara is expecting you inside.” The kid delivers the line better than some of the actors I’ve worked with.
“Should I even ask?”
His smirk provides the only answer I expect. I toss him my key and step around the car where Stacy is standing, waiting for me.
She’s dressed in a long, black evening gown, her hair pulled up in a high bun, and for the first time since I’ve met her, she’s wearing makeup. She sticks a large microphone in front of me as the crowd cheers. The flashes from their phones decorate the early evening like fireflies.
“Mr. Alexander, welcome back to the Coffee Loft. How does it feel to be back at the spot where it all began?” She waves her hand toward the front of the café. A printed Hollywood framed poster hangs in the window—The Coffee Loft Presents the Return of the Bumbling Barista.The graphic shows a cartoon version of me tripping and spilling coffee on a crowd of customers.
I snicker, my hand rubbing across my chin at the ridiculousness being played out in front of me. “No other place I’d rather be tonight.”
Stacy gives me a brilliant smile. It eases some of the concern I had on the drive over. For the entire afternoon, I felt bad I wason set, unable to be with Zara. Unable to be here if she needed me. Wondering if David selected another firm, and she was alone. Stacy reminds me of the incredible support system Zara has always had.
“There you have it—the return of the bumbler,” Stacy directs her comment to the crowd and waves a hand for me to head into the café. I don’t.
I step next to her, placing my hand on top of her shoulder, posing for pictures. It’s a distraction so I can get next to her and whisper, “How is she? Did she…”
Stacy twists and gives me a wink. “It’s nice that you worry about her. I’ll let her tell you what’s going on.” She takes a dramatic curtsey and extends her arms for me to take a bow. “My sister is a jewel. Treat her well.”
