Page 6 of Secret Seduction

“Yay!” Dani hugs me. “We’re going to have the best time.”

Famous last words …

3

Vanessa

“Nicole, this is seriously the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.” I inhale the scent of strawberries mixed with espresso and then take another slow sip, the sweet cream on top tickling the tip of my nose. “You should forget this boring small town and move your coffee shop to a city that will fully appreciate it, like Seattle.”

“Hey!” Bri glares at me playfully. “Don’t be trying to steal my best friend from me.”

Nicole shakes her head and laughs. “As much as I miss you when you’re across the country, I kind of love it here.”

“Whatever.” I sigh. “Maybe I’ll open my own coffee-and-book shop in Seattle.”

Nicole looks at me, and we both laugh.

“Just kidding. We both know I can’t make a cup of drinkable coffee to save my life, and I’d rather sew and watch trashy TV than read.”

Thanks to my mother not having a single domestic bone in her body, I never learned to do the basic things like cook and clean. And then I was sent to boarding school, where everything was done for me, and now I’m in college, where I live in an apartment-style dorm since it’s the cheapest option. While my scholarship covers my tuition and meal plan, I have to pay for my books and dorm myself.

My roommate and I share a small living space that includes a living room and kitchen with a tiny eating area. There’s a stove, fridge, and microwave, but with me double majoring and taking eighteen credits a semester and working part-time at the local pub, plus making custom clothing orders, I barely have time to breathe, let alone learn how to properly cook. Thank goodness for the school cafeteria and the free meals at the pub I work at. But I’m doing my thing and following my dreams, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Speaking of which, how’s school going?” Nicole asks, pulling out a chair and joining Bri and me.

When I arrived in Harbor Point last week for a visit before school started back up—at my mother’s insistence—I was dreading being stuck with her and her husband in their gaudy, over-the-top mansion the entire time. But with Nicole opening her own coffee-and-book shop, Lattes and Words, it gave me a reason to get out of the house. Even if my miserable excuse of a stepfather wasn’t pleased since he didn’t support Nicole going this route versus using the law degree he’d paid for.

And when I learned that her friend Bri had opened her own Pilates studio, I had to check it out, and I’ve become obsessed. I’m not a fan of the gym—all those guys huffing and grunting and throwing weights around—but the classes at Club Serenity are relaxing while giving me a full-body workout. I doubt I can afford to join a studio near me when I return to school, but I’m almost certain my school’s gym offers similar classes for free.

“It’s going well,” I tell her. “Once I start this semester, I’ll officially be a senior. Two semesters to go, and I’ll be a college graduate.”

“What are you majoring in?” Bri asks, taking a bite of her strawberry muffin.

“I’m double majoring in business and fashion design. I’d like to one day start my own clothing line and open a boutique that carries it, along with several other lines.”

Creating clothes is my passion. And the thought of getting to spend my life doing it while making a living has me giddy inside. I’m so close to graduating that I can practically taste it.

“And you should see her designs,” Nicole gushes, pulling out her phone and flipping through her photos. “She’s got style.”

She shows Bri several outfits I’ve made and sent to Nicole over the years, and Brielle praises each one, giving me a jolt of confidence. I’ve been interning for a local designer, and I’ve learned so much about the fashion world, but I know I still have a long way to go.

The fashion industry is not for the weak, but because it’s been a passion of mine since I was little—thumbing through my mom’s magazines that she’d live vicariously through when we lived in South Harbor Point and she was too broke to keep our electric on every month, let alone afford the clothes modeled in the magazines—I’ve been perfecting my craft over the years.

Since we couldn’t afford clothes like that, I used to watch YouTube videos at school and write down how to make my own clothes. Miss Young—a sweet older woman who owned a small fabric and sewing shop in South Harbor Point—used to let me sweep her floors and dust in exchange for her giving me the leftover scraps. I used them to make my own clothes and realized that I had a knack for it.

“She makes all her own clothes,” Nicole tells Bri. “Remember the cute sundress I wore to your gender reveal party? She’d made it.”

While I can’t stand Eric Vanderbilt, the man my mom latched on to—not because she was attracted to him and cared about him, but because he was loaded—his daughter and I have formed a friendship over the years. To say she’s nothing like her father would be an understatement. I didn’t know her mother when she was alive since our parents got together years later, but I’d imagine she’s ninety-nine percent her.

“Any chance you could make me a cute dress for our maternity shoot? I can’t find anything I love,” Bri complains. “I want to do something cute before the baby comes, and I found an awesome photographer, but everything looks so … pregnancy.”

Bri scrunches her nose up, and the three of us laugh.

“I could, but I would have to mail it to you. I’m only here for a few more days, and then I’m heading back to Seattle.”

“Already?” Nicole pouts.

“You know I’m only here because my mother summoned me.”