Page 91 of The Wrong Groom

Alexis

The coffee shop down the street from the Fashion For All warehouse has become a frequent stop for me. Sometimes, when I have a little extra time in my day, I like to use it as a place to sketch designs. Eventually, the workshop will fill that niche, but for now, the sounds of construction make it difficult to focus there, so the coffee shop is my go-to.

The staff have started to recognize me, and they know my usual—iced tea with vanilla and a slice of lemon cake. It’s waiting for me on the counter when I walk inside. The barista, a young woman with a punky undercut, offers me a warm smile as I pick up my order. I head over to claim a corner booth, where I can spread out my sketches without feeling like I’m in anyone’s way.

I find the page in my sketchbook where I left off yesterday. I’ve been working on a jacket that’s meant to adjust to changes in the wearer’s body shape. It could work for someone who’s pregnant, someone whose weight fluctuates, or even someone who just wants a more versatile fit. The design is still rough, but the concept feels strong. Practical, but stylish.

As I sit back with my iced tea, I study the lines of the sketch, debating whether to alter the placement of the adjustable seams. My focus is broken by my cell phone vibrating on the table.

I answer it without checking the caller ID. “Hello, this is Alexis.”

“Hey! Glad I caught you.”

I freeze at the sound of Travis’s voice, momentarily stunned. I haven’t heard from him since we ran into him at the bookstore and Gabriel chased him away.

“I’m sure you’re busy,” he continues. “I’ve heard about your project. It’s been getting a bit of buzz. I just read about it yesterday in LA Style.”

“Uh huh,” I say faintly, not sure how to respond. Part of me thinks I should just hang up, but a bigger part of me is conditioned not to. That would be rude, after all. “Um. Why are you calling?”

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he says.

I bite my lip. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

I want to be polite, but I also have no interest in getting sucked into a conversation with Travis. I clear my throat and say, “Well, if that’s all⁠—”

He cuts me off. “Actually, that’s… that’s not all. You got me.”

I sit in silence for a few seconds before speaking. “Okay. So what’s this about?”

“You, Alexis.” He sighs. His breath rattles over the line.

“M-me?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I can’t get you out of my head.”

Oh, god. I need to figure out what to say to stop him, to end this call without being nasty. Something. Anything. But nothing comes to mind.

“I called because I have to be honest,” he continues. “With you, and with myself. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been, you know?”

No. The word dries up on my tongue. My voice refuses to cooperate with me.

“Things should’ve worked out differently. I get the sense that you know what I’m talking about.” He pauses. “That you feel it too.”

“Travis,” I say quietly, shifting in my seat. “I d-don’t know what you’re expecting from this conversation, b-but⁠—”

“Just hear me out,” he interrupts. “Please.”

I go silent, not out of a willingness to hear him out, but out of fear. Fear of what he’ll say if I shut him down. To me, or about me.

“It wasn’t fair to you, your parents pulling the plug like that. You don’t deserve to be saddled with some old guy and his kid.”

A sudden flare of anger rises in my core, cutting through the nerves that have kept me silent. “Stop,” I say sharply, my voice stronger than I expected. “You don’t get to talk about my life like that. About them like that. He’s not old. And she’s a great kid.”

“Alexis, listen⁠—”

“No,” I snap. There’s no holding back now. “I’m lucky to be in Peyton’s life. And Gabriel… he’s a good man.”