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“So, what do you think?” Sarah rested her arms on her chair’s side guards, giving Leia a clear view of the blue silk dress. Its slim cut design complemented her curves and the pencil skirt meant Sarah wouldn’t have to worry about excess fabric catching in the wheels of her chair.

“Oh, Saz.” Leia covered her mouth with her palm. “You look absolutely gorgeous!”

“See? Told you,” said Jordan, admiring his girlfriend. He bent down and kissed Sarah softly on the temple, sparing her makeup. “I have to call work quickly, but I’ll be back to help with your second change. Good luck, ladies!” With a thumbs-up, he straightened his tie and ducked through the changing room curtain.

Sarah plucked her phone from her purse. “But are you sure you want me to wear this? Honestly, you won’t hurt my feelings if you’d rather Shantelle—”

“Shan’s got her own dresses. I want you to wear this one.” Leia crouched in her simple white wrap dress and gave Sarah’s hem a little tug, straightening it. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, shouldn’t the star wear it, then?”

I know what she’s doing. Leia smoothed the skirt and stood up. “And who do you think you are? If anyone’s a star, it’s you, Saz! You make this dress sing.”

“It’s just…I don’t want you feeling like you have to include me.” Sarah pursed her lips. “The fashion world isn’t the most inclusive. I’d hate for some snobby, ableist editor to bash your collection because, well, you know…”

“If that happens, they can shove their ignorance and suck a bag of dicks! Frill-Seekers is about resilience, starting over, being bold, and no one personifies those qualities like you do, Sarah. You’re the reason I’m a designer in the first place! There is no way in hell I’d do this without you. You’re my bestie…and always will be.”

Sarah blinked quickly. “Oh, don’t make me cry—” Her phone buzzed and glowed in her hand. “Wha…?!” Intrigued, she dove in.

Who is that? Better not be Tarquin—shouldn’t be. She hasn’t mentioned him since Fortnum’s. “Saz, be quick, okay? I need you to line up with the other models.” Leia pulled back the curtain an inch and glanced backstage. “Show is supposed to start in ten minutes.”

Sarah burst out laughing. “There IS a god!”

What’s she up to? Narrowing her eyes, Leia let go of the drape.

“I’m lovin’ this!” her sister jeered. “It’s from Dad.” Fighting back more giggles, she gleefully shared his news.

Dad: I know Leia’s got her hands full, so pass along when she’s free. Tyler was traded to Arizona.

Leia jolted. “What?! He’s leaving New York? But he has a no-trade clause.”

“Something must’ve voided it,” said Sarah, her expression full of delight. “Or he waived it for some reason.”

“Yeah, I can think of several.” Leia twisted her lips and picked up the tote holding her sewing kit. “What else does Dad say?”

Sarah read aloud.

Dad: It hasn’t hit the news yet. My buddy in the GM’s office swore me to secrecy, so keep this under your hat for now, okay? Love you both. Good luck tonight!

“I can’t believe it.” Leia let out a happy gasp, relishing the news.

“No more running into him at events, no more gossip!” Sarah stuffed her phone in her bag and hid it under her coat. “You’re free of that twatwaffle for good, Ley!”

She nodded and swished open the changing room curtain for her sister. “I can’t think of a better ‘welcome home’ present!”

Leia followed Sarah through the impromptu backstage area of temporary hair and makeup stations and curtained-off dressing rooms. Colorful dresses hung from three rolling clothing racks, each one divided by large tags bearing a single name: Alex, Lucy, Naomi, Joan, and Freddie—all Simon’s friends with the exception of Sarah, Shantelle, Riley, and her British boyfriend Ben. They all stood in a casual semi-circle, chatting and fawning over their outfits, their exuberance competing with the upbeat playlist of pop hits spilling through the doorway of the adjacent space. Simon flitted from model to model, doing a final check on seams, hems, and zippers, making sure everyone was runway ready while Spencer lingered by the racks, ready to help anyone needing assistance changing into their second look.

They’re all runway-ready… in my dresses! Leia caught her breath. I have so much to be thankful for. She paused beside the closest rack and a large piece of Bristol board affixed to the end, its surface papered with a series of numbered photos. The pictures, Leia’s ‘run of show’, showcased each outfit and were organized in the order they would appear on the runway. Poring over it quickly, she looked over her shoulder, studying her real-life models. All, spare Shantelle, were accounted for and waiting in the correct sequence. Shan’s missing again? Where did she wander off to this time? Leia dropped her tote of supplies on the floor and craned her neck, searching for the wayward star.

“Leia!” Alex waved. Sandwiched between Lucy and Sarah, she looked down at Simon removing lint with double-sided tape from the skirt of her floor-skimming purple dress. “I’ve been thinking…” Alex met Leia’s eyes. “I’d hate to wear this once and then never again. If Mark gets nominated for a BAFTA—”

“He will!” smirked Lucy, running her hands down her pink party dress.

“I’d love to wear this to the ceremony,” said Alex. “It’s perfect!”

A British red carpet! “Sure!” Leia grinned. “I’ll loan it to you.”

“Can I buy it?”