the photos to me?
Finally on the ground in Charleston, I stayed mostly silent until we were crossing the parking lot toward Isaac’s jeep.
“You okay, man?” Isaac asked. “You seem bugged by something.”
“I’m good,” I lied. “Just tired, I guess.”
He unlocked his jeep and opened the back, sliding his suitcase in before turning around and reaching for mine. “Here, I got it,” he said.
“Thanks.”
A few minutes into the drive home, Isaac broke the silence. “Hey, listen I’m sorry about making fun of you on the plane. And about Dani, and all that.”
“What?” His apology caught me off guard. Isaac made fun of everyone, all the time. And he never apologized.
“I know it was real between you two. I’m sorry if I made things worse by . . .” He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know. By making you see her, or whatever.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks, I guess.”
“So we’re cool?” he asked.
“Sure. Of course.”
“Cool.”
I hadn’t expected an apology. Hadn’t really even felt like I needed one. But after listening to Victor’s message, then replaying it in my head over and over throughout the flight home—just a heads up, we don’t actually want you here—it was nice to feel any measure of sincerity, whether from family or in Isaac’s case, a friend.
The simplicity of his apology reminded me of my father and a familiar ache welled up in my belly—a subtle tightening that lasted a moment then disappeared. I missed my mother, was sad that we didn’t have more time together, that we hadn’t had a closer relationship. But missing my father was visceral—a physical reaction that squeezed and tugged and needled like no loss I’d ever experienced before. It had dulled over the past two years since his death, but I still felt it. Still wished for the chance to have one more conversation with him. Still wished to just . . . belong somewhere.
Chapter Nine
Dani
I clenched my fists together, willing the nerves in my gut to stop with the somersaults. Paige stood in the middle of our living room, wearing the dress—the perfectly crafted, made for her body, gorgeous in every way dress—while her mother circled around her. It had been a good week. Paige’s little sister was maid of honor and she’d pulled off the long-distance planning of a New York City bridal shower from her home in Boston with freakish skill. The shower had been perfect. We’d also managed to squeeze in bridesmaid’s dress shopping and had found a great deal on invitations. And I’d spent hours, most of them in the middle of the night, finishing the dress.
I didn’t technically need Mrs. Perry’s approval to be proud. I knew I’d designed a winner, and Paige’s approval was all that truly mattered. But I still wanted her mom to like it. I wanted the validation of someone not already bound by friendship loving my work.
Well, and validation from Ms. Perry was particularly significant. Her maiden name was Pinkney—which meant something if you lived in Charleston. It was one of the oldest and most prestigious names in the city. Charleston society held firm to culture and tradition and Paige’s family was one of the great pillars of that society. I mean, Paige had had an actual Debutante ball when she’d turned eighteen. Big white dress, formal presentation to society, the whole deal. Paige never really bought into it, but for her mom, it was everything. The fact that they could, if they so desired, afford to pay top dollar for a designer dress made the pressure even greater.
Ms. Perry tapped her perfectly manicured finger on her chin. “Danielle, I admit, I’ve always assumed your love for fashion was nothing more than a hobby, but I think you’ve got something here.”
Paige smiled. “Really, Mom? You like it?”
“It’s perfect,” she said, reaching for Paige’s hands. “You look just as I always imagined.”
“And you’re still going to let me wear your veil?” Paige said.
“Of course! I actually think it will coordinate with the rest of the dress perfectly.” She turned to face me. “Well done, Danielle. If you like, I’d be happy to spread the word among friends. You keep designing dresses like these, and we’ll make you famous in no time at all.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” I said. “Thank you.”
Paige, visible over her mother’s shoulder, smiled wide and raised her fists in silent celebration. “Hey Mom,” she said, throwing me a pointed look, “did I tell you Dani is up for a design position at LeFranc?”
I glared at