At the bottom corner of the sheet, I find handwritten notes. They are small, yet I think I recognize the handwriting.
With the design in my hand, I quickly get up and head to the kitchen, where I left Sky's note on the countertop. I pick it up and compare the two texts.
Canvas binding, thread count 150. Midnight blue.
I'll be back for lunch. Looking forward to it!
The lowercase G, the lowercase E, the lowercase U.
The resemblance is unmistakable. Sky designed this suit that unmistakably features me. She showed me her passion for fashion, but not once did she mention that she's a designer herself. Wow. She's an artist!
Feverishly, I grab a cloth, return to the living room, and clean the table. Then I examine the remaining designs.
There's an elegant dress worn by a woman with long red curls and azure-blue eyes. Additionally, I find five winter outfit designs and three more evening gown designs, all worn by models with the same universal face.
It's obvious, yet I don't understand it. On Öland, Sky told me that she lacks the talent for designing. But these designs look more than professional.
They are amazing!
Why didn't she tell me about this? Is she ashamed of it? Yes, that must be it. And that can only mean one thing: Her father ingrained this in her too.
My heart aches. If only she could see herself the way I do.
I place the designs on the table and walk to my laptop at the opposite end of the table. There's something I must do for Sky, something that will help her take the next step.
***
Four hours later, I rub my tired eyes. I feel like I've run an ultramarathon, but it was worth it. I've found the woman who could change Sky's perspective on the truth: her mother. She has settled in the far north of Sweden, in Abisko, completely secluded on the edge of a nature reserve. Now I just need to convince Sky to talk to her. I get up and march to the terrace door to open it. The cold winter air flows in, but the clarity of my thoughts that I had hoped for doesn't come.
"Once more," I say to myself, placing my index fingers on my temples. "She clearly told you she doesn't want to see her mother. But she looked sad while saying it. She longs for her family. What if she has simply lacked the courage until now?" Yes, that's it. "You could ask her," I mumble.
"Ask who what?" Suddenly, I hear Sky's voice close behind me. I can't help but startle. She nestles against my back, wrapping her arms around my upper body. "Are you okay?"
I slowly turn to face her and kiss her. Her lips are so soft. They taste like oranges.
"Now everything is fine," I say as we break our kiss and smile at her.
Sky blinks, her expression slightly questioning, possibly even skeptical. "Did you go through the drawers?" She gestures to thehalf-open drawers of the dresser and the scattered designs on the table.
"I was looking for tissues." My emphatic shaking of my head doesn't seem to calm her. "Because of the spilled coffee," I quickly add, pointing at the coffee-soaked cloth on the table.
Her gaze hesitates between me and the dresser. Then she kisses me on the cheek, releases herself from my embrace, and walks to the table. She carefully collects the designs. She smooths each sheet gently before returning it to the folder.
"These are yours, right?" I ask, captivated by the love with which she handles the designs.
She pauses to study one of the sheets, then nods with a wistful smile. "I drew this on Öland."
I step beside her, examining the drawing of myself together with her. "It looks a lot like me."
Her lips twitch. "It's quite possible," she murmurs, gently placing the drawing in the folder.
"Is this one from Öland too?" I ask, tapping on the design where Sky is depicted in the deep blue evening gown.
She takes it and gently runs her fingertips over it. "Mm-hmm," she says.
"It's amazing." I put my arm around her. "Even though I don't know much about fashion, this has something special."
She shrugs and puts the design back into the folder. "It's just amateurish play, nothing more." There's sadness in her voice. She closes the folder and rests her head on my shoulder.
