“I talked to Shar,” Gia said. “The light was on when Cam dropped me off. She thinks we should go.”
“You spoke to my aunt behind my back?” I crossed my arms, annoyed.
“Yeah.” Her jaw was set. “My best friend taught me to go after what I want, and I did. Shar is fine—she already hired a temp for Friday and Saturday, and she can ask her to work a couple more days. My dad agreed to drive us back here Sunday, so we’ll be fine to work Monday. Matteo borrowed his brother’s car and can pick us up here on Thursday morning, so we can still work our shift tomorrow. Everything is sorted, Tahira. All you have to do is say yes.”
I blew out a puff of air. She made it seem so easy. Go get the exposure that could make my career, or stay here for...
For what exactly? I wasn’t going to New York unless we won the Bloom. But...I reallydidthink we had a chance to win. And even if we didn’t win, I was going to use pictures of the sculpture in my portfolio, along with all the drawings I’d done beforehand.
Which option—staying and doing the Bloom, or going and doing the photo shoot—would be better for my career?
“Have you asked your parents?” Gia asked.
“It’s late,” I said. “I’ll call them in the morning.”
“You should talk to Nilusha Bhatt, too. Isn’t a mentor supposed to, you know, help with career decisions?”
Gia was right. Nilusha and I had been talking about once a week since I got here, mostly about my designs (both fashion and floral). She had returned to Toronto recently. I sent her a quick email, telling her I needed to talk tomorrow.
“Okay.” I got up from the chair. “I...I’m going to sleep.” I headed back to my loft.
“You’ll give this serious thought, Tahira? Matteo will need an answer tomorrow. Three, at the latest.”
I nodded as I climbed the ladder to my bed. “Thanks for sorting out the details, G. I’ll think about it.” I’d probably do more thinking about this decision than sleeping tonight.
But I was wrong. I didn’t think about it that much. I didn’t sleep much, either. Instead, I spent most of the night trying to stop picturing the look on Rowan’s face when he’d said good night earlier. I was terrified I’d be seeing more of that disappointment again tomorrow.
23
NOT A GOODBYE
Iwas sitting out on the outdoor sofa at eight the next morning with my chai and toast, waiting for Rowan. We had promised to be honest with each other, and I planned to keep that promise.
Rowan showed up five minutes later, coffee in hand. He sat across from me and rubbed his face. “Morning,” he said. He looked like he hadn’t really slept, either.
“Hi,” I said. “We need to talk.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I figured. So, you going to tell me what your ex wanted from you yesterday?”
I nodded. “I have a decision to make.”
Rowan was quiet a second, then spoke. “Why would you have to decide anything when it comes to him? After the way he treated you?” There was anger in his voice. A touch of that old venom.
“It’s nothimI’m considering. It’s an opportunity. This big-name style blogger is coming to Toronto and wants to do a profile on me and Matteo.”
“You broke up. Why would the two of you be in a profile together? Have you still been talking to him?”
I recoiled. “Jesus, Rowan, no, of course not. I told you I blocked him everywhere. I promised you I’d be honest with you, and I have been.”
“Okay, so then why a profile together?”
“Because we collaborated so much. He’s an emerging model; I’m an emerging designer. The blogger is profiling the people she thinks will be the next big thing in fashion in major style cities across North America. It would be a ton of exposure for me. A real game changer.”
He exhaled. “Okay, I get it. I do. I may not like it, but you should do this.”
I paused. “It’s this weekend. Gia was invited, too.”
He shook his head and glanced toward the greenhouse, where the frame of our sculpture rested near the workbench. “This weekend.”
