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“That’s sweet of you to say, but…”
“I mean it! You’re going to be Mrs. Emma Timberfrost the next time I see you. Or engaged at least. I’m sure of it!”
“Thanks for everything,” I said as we gave each other one more hug and said goodbye.
I fixed myself a cup of tea, watching her return to her car on the street down below me. It seemed unfair that she was going back to Bud, while I had such an amazing opportunity ahead of me.
When my tea was ready, I took a sip, and then looked around me at the piles and piles of garment bags, shopping bags, and shoe boxes. They spilled over from room to room of my apartment. I knew I needed to get everything organized and hung up right away or it would all become a wrinkly mess. I considered giving Pete a quick phone call, but I forced myself to stay focused. Normally organizing clothes would be on my top five list of favorite activities, up there with receiving freebies from interior design trade shows and watching old episodes of Three’s Company. It was throwing me for a slight loop that I didn’t care to take second looks at these clothes, many of them designer originals. However, despite my uncharacteristic apathy, I changed into an old concert t-shirt and some yoga pants and got to work.
Halfway through hanging up garment bags in my closet, I heard a knock at my door. My heart skipped a beat when I opened the door. It was Pete, looking cold and cute, holding a bouquet of pink roses.
“I know it’s late, but do you mind if I come in?” he asked.
I kicked the piles out of the way and smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter 10
“You really didn’t have to get me flowers,” I said. I couldn’t stop smiling. I put them in water, trying to hide my excitement.
Pete followed me into the kitchen. “What’s with all these shopping bags and shoes?” he asked. Then his face fell. “Oh, I get it. They’re for the show, right?”
“Right,” I said, still fussing with the flowers, unable to meet his eyes.
“Congratulations on making it on.”
“Thank you.”
“When do you have to leave?”
“Wednesday,” I said. I’d never seen him look sad before. It made me feel a little sick. And very disgusted with myself. “I’m sorry Pete.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” He shrugged.
“But I am.”
“Then don’t go.”
“Pete. I have to go.”
“You do?”
“I mean, I’ve gotten this far. I can’t back out now.”
“Don’t say you can’t when you mean you won’t.”
“I mean I can’t. I made a commitment to the show.”
“To the show?”
“Yes. To the show.”
“Okay. If that’s how you see it.”
“Plus, it’s exciting. It’s a big deal that they picked me.”
We stood awkwardly in the kitchen for too long, neither of us speaking.
“What time do you leave on Wednesday?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
