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“Singing, right? You’ve always wanted to be a performer.” Milo started the game, relaxing into the conversation as if he had been there the entire time.
Elliot grumbled, “Yeah, but you know. . . family.”
“It can’t be too hard to choose, right? You are more alive on that stage than anything. Wouldn’t your family see that?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the screen as we went through the beginning motions.
“Easier said than done, my friend. Have you ever had a knot in your shoulder, one that no matter what, you couldn’t get rid of? I have one, always when I’m at the office. It’s not that I hate being there. But it’s become more stressful over the past couple of years, and being on stage takes that away for a moment.” Elliot rolled his head from side to side. “But the family doesn't feel that knot. . .”
I reached my hand up to the spot on my neck, almost out of instinct. It always used to be there, its presence known, day in and day out, as I sat at my desk. I would twist my neck and roll my shoulders, but it would never ever fade. I had even made a note to get a massage, which never came, thanks to a lawsuit. But now, here in Portland, the knot had slowly faded, becoming less and less in the last few weeks. I had told Elliot to pick, yet, here I was, still terrified to pick for myself.
The small steps I was taking to better my life were working for sure, but there was one thing that made me feel as happy as I knew Elliot did when he was singing. One thing that I had been missing.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, putting the controller on the coffee table and standing.
“We just started the round,” Elliot said loudly as I made my way to my bedroom.
“I’ll be right back,” I shouted before I pulled my phone from my pocket.
I needed to pick.
Clay: Hey, you busy?
That could have been better but. . . what was my new motto? Baby steps?
To my surprise, Ophelia responded.Hi, no, just leaving the studio.
Clay: Are you going to be at your studio tomorrow? I’d love to see you.
Baby steps also included leaps of faith sometimes.
I stared, not expecting an answer, knowing I came on too strong but as if it were fate, one came.
Ophelia: Yeah, I’ll be there all day. Bring coffee.
I smiled, locking my phone and tossing it on the bed before going back to join the guys.
Chapter Eighteen
-Ophelia-
JoAnn,
Being here in Portland has put a lot in perspective for me and I needed to ask you a question regarding the boutique. I’m wanting to do gowns and only gowns, and I’m wondering if this would be something that would interest you. Evening gowns, wedding gowns, gowns you would see on the red carpet. I have attached a few scans of some drawings. These are mainly wedding gowns, but I do have multiple designs in mind for dresses, better than what you saw in Portland last year. Let me know what you think.
Ophelia.
I ran my fingers over the keyboard quickly glancing at the time on the bottom of the screen. Jamie would be here soon for me to work on her dress, and Clay was supposed to show up with coffee in hand. He never set a time. He just told me he’d “love to see me.” And even though I knew nothing would come of it, I wanted to see him too.
You’re just being polite. No harm could come from a friendship, I told myself, trying to refocus my mind. Remember, he’s not worth the heartache. He’s not worth it. No man is.
But then. . . I’d love to see you.
I needed to calm these little flutters. Push them out. Ignore them. Work.
First and foremost, this email needed to be sent. I couldn't get into the headspace to design another seasonal line. I wanted to design gowns, and I knew the only way to do that would be to pull this email out of the drafts folder and send it on its way. What's the worst that could happen? She would say no.
The studio door creaked open, and I said a quick prayer it was Clay, before looking up only to be greeted by Jamie. She had a skip in her steps and a smile beaming at me as she waved. I smiled back and looked down the email one last time, hitting the save button before leaving the computer open on the desk.
“Wanna know what the best part about working for the bride is?” She chuckled. “You get the morning off to get started on the dress for her wedding, and no one asks questions.”
