Darn Knit All (All Access #3)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

MAI

Theo

This cake is incredible!

Mai

You say that about all the cakes I make

Theo

Well, this one is the new peak of awesome. 10/10 would eat again

N o one talks about how much work it is living with anxiety. Oh, sure. They’ll tell you how tiring and emotionally draining it feels to operate in a constant state of heightened emotions. But no one talks about being up until 3am the night before a big meeting to research five different routes in case the one you take is congested or closed for repairs.

Plan B? More like plans A through triple Z.

You know who needs to be running emergency service departments? Anyone with high anxiety. We plan for all contingencies.

I looked down at the cell phone clutched in my clammy hand, trying to breathe through the near-overwhelming panic that clawed up my throat and constricted my chest.

Dear Ms. Sakamoto,

We are pleased to invite you to participate in Perfect Fit, a realityfashiondesign competition series hosted by Michelle Conliam.

You’ll be challenged to design cutting-edge creations which will be judged by our panel of expert designers, Minerva Devillian, Alison Louis, and Erike Baretti.

The email continued but I couldn’t, my anxiety hitting a level of fear I hadn’t experienced in years.

Huddled on the dressing room floor of Bloom Boutique, I faced myself in not one, not two, but three mirrors—each reflecting a woman on the edge of a breakdown.

My black hair fell from my ponytail to frame my face in a frizzy mess of strands. My cheeks were flushed, and my dark eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. My skin had turned a clammy, mottled color, while cold sweat dotted my brow. My chest rose and fell with quick, short breaths as I struggled to regain control.

I’d never had a breakdown in front of a mirror before, and a part of me—that wasn’t freaking the fuck out—found the entire experience endlessly fascinating.

I’m going to strangle Theo.

My stomach clutched and clawed as I forced myself to slow my breathing.

I am safe. I am in a safe space.

My therapist’s words whispered through my ears, her voice gentle and encouraging.

Ground yourself, feet flat on the ground, hands on your legs or the floor.

Through sheer force of will I moved into a sitting position. With my back resting against the cool wall of the stall, I raised my knees to plant my feet and pressed my palms to the carpeted floor.

Take a breath, hold for a beat then recite three things you can see.

I sucked in a gulp, holding the air in my pounding chest, doing as she’d taught me.

Normally, I could hold off the worst of it, putting on a brave face and batting away any suggestion of concern with a smile. I knew how to mask my anxiety behind over-performance and apologies, hiding my fears behind a laughing fa?ade until I could crumble alone.

Today, those masks had failed, allowing a torrid flood of emotions to crush me.

“White walls, silver mirrors, a pink chair.”

I sucked in another breath, forcing myself to continue to name what I could see in the room.

“A glittering chandelier, a white door, a silver clothes rack.”

A tentative knock on the dressing room door interrupted my recitation.

“Mai? You okay in there?” Bloom’s co-owner and my boss, Yasmin Prince, tapped on the door again. “Can I come in?”

I sucked in big gulps of air, desperately wishing I could deny her.

“Sure,” I forced myself to answer.

She pushed the door open slightly, spying me sitting on the floor.

“Oh, Mai.”

She hurried in, her pregnant belly preceding her.

“Let me—” She made a move to crouch.

“Stop!” I held out a hand pointing at the chair in the corner of the bridal change room.

“Good idea.” She took the seat with a groan, her expression grudging. “I thought I’d be a beautiful pregnant unicorn, one of those women who glow and waddle but in a cute and attractive kind of way.” She sighed, leaning back with another groan. “Instead, I’m battling stretch marks and back pain, not to mention the pregnancy acne, and I waddle like a disgruntled duck.”

She lied, of course. Pregnant with her first child, Yasmin glowed with the kind of joy that only true love could bring. She bore an uncanny resemblance to a fairy-tale princess with her ebony hair, rich tan skin, and warm mahogany eyes. She radiated peace and calm—it was one of the reasons I’d wanted to work at Bloom Boutique.

That she happened to be an incredible seamstress and generous teacher were icing on an already delicious cake.

“Ducks are cute,” I managed to mutter, grateful she hadn’t asked me how I felt. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to temper my response.

“Sure, the fluffy babies. Not the horrific older ones. You know they’re super violent? Caleb and I watched a documentary on it.” She placed a hand over her stomach. “I don’t think I’ve cried that much since I watched The NeverEnding Story . It felt like my childhood was being shattered.”

I forced a smile.

“And don’t tell me it’s pregnancy hormones.” She waggled a finger at me. “I might be seven months and impacted by every other side effect known to woman, but not that one.”

Maeve Oakley, Bloom’s other co-owner, poked her head in, her grin wide on her pixie-like face. “Are we doing an impromptu staff meeting? Should I bring alcohol-free wine?”

“Grape juice.” Yasmin rolled her eyes. “God forbid. I don’t think I can stomach any more of that shit. My mother-in-law thinks it’s a great option at family dinners.”

My racing heart began to slow, the rigidity in my muscles easing as they bickered back and forth, ignoring me. Their familiar banter and the comfort of their presence helped ground me.

“Better?” Yasmin asked when I shifted into a cross-legged position.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

She waved me off. “You wanna talk about it?”

The phone sat in my lap, taunting me.

“I….” My throat closed, panic rising once more.

“Hey!”

I snapped my head up to find Maeve glaring at me.

“I’m”—she stabbed two fingers at herself then at me—“talking to that devil on your shoulder right now. Our Mai is awesome. She’s amazing. She doesn’t have time for doubting herself. Spill your worries before the devil eats away at you.”

“I….” I couldn’t speak life into this moment.

Beyond grateful for these two amazing women, I fought to get a handle on the anxiety beast that rode my back and gnawed in my chest.

Shoving the phone in Maeve’s direction, I closed my eyes, repeating her words.

I’m amazing. I’m awesome. I don’t have time to doubt myself.

Maeve took the phone, and I listened as she read it aloud to Yasmin, both of them squealing with excitement.

“Oh my God, Mai! This is incredible.” Yasmin clapped her hands together. “What an opportunity. I didn’t even know you applied.”

My stomach dipped, my mind disconnecting from my body. “I didn’t. Theo nominated me.”

“Who cares who did what—the important thing is you’re in .” Maeve shook the phone at me. “If you don’t say yes to this, I will disown you. Erike Baretti will see your designs. Erike-freaking-Baretti!”

I couldn’t help but note a tiny part of me, buried deep under the panic, thrilled alongside her. Michelle Conliam, Minerva Devillian, Alison Louis, and Erike Baretti were legends in the fashion world, and to work on something they might see would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Holy shit. They might see my designs.

The little spark of excitement died under the weight of my anxiety, smothered by my fear of being seen. The idea of being judged, of having my designs laid bare terrified me. I’d rather walk down Main Street naked than be that vulnerable.

I swallowed, trying to draw moisture into the desert of my mouth. “I’m going to say no.”

They froze.

“What?” Yasmin reached out to place a hand on my knee. “Why?”

I gestured at her stomach. “I can’t leave the store.”

“Of course you fucking can,” she snapped. “Maeve is more than capable of running this place.”

Maeve nodded vigorously.

“It’s coming into wedding season,” I protested. “I know how busy this time of year gets.”

“We’ll organize to backfill you.” Yasmin waved her hand dismissively. “Right, Maeve?”

Maeve nodded vehemently. “You deserve this. Seriously, Mai, you have to.”

“But the baby?—”

“We have time to figure everything out before bubba arrives.” Yasmin caught my gaze. “Listen to me. I refuse to allow you to squander what is a life-changing opportunity. This has the potential to set you up for life, Mai. You can conquer your dreams. Just think about the prize money, the recognition.”

The scrutiny, the self-doubt, the judgment.

My heart kicked into overdrive as sweat trickled down my back.

“What if I’m not good enough?” I whispered, giving voice to my greatest fear. “What if I fail?”

“And what if you succeed?” Maeve countered. She crouched beside me, placing her hand on my opposite knee. “What if you win the whole damn thing?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with the money. All I’ve ever wanted is to create beautiful pieces of clothing.” I gestured at the dressing room. “And we do that every day.”

“So you buy into Bloom. Or you set up your own boutique. Or you keep working here part-time and I sell a line of your clothing. Or you do a million other things the prize money and recognition will afford you.” Yasmin squeezed my knee. “The choice is yours, my friend.”

“Buy into Bloom?” My heart stuttered, a near-overwhelming desire welling up in me.

She leaned back into her chair, groaning with the effort. “If you want. Maeve already did and”—she patted her stomach—“with this one and no doubt more kids on the way, I won’t have the time I once did to build the business. We’ve been talking about bringing on another partner to help out. You’re an incredible designer and wonderful colleague—not to mention good friend.” She shrugged. “Why not?”

A world of possibility began to open for me.

“Are you sure?” I asked Maeve.

“We already discussed it.” She flicked a grin at Yasmin. “We didn’t know that you were interested, but I agree with Yasmin. If this store is your dream, then let’s do it.”

Some people might envision success as sold-out runway shows in Milan or Paris. Some might think of a fashion house in New York or London. My idea of success had always involved Capricorn Cove, the small island town I’ve called home for most of my life.

I loved everything about our close-knit community, nestled in the heart of the Isle of Astipia. The certainty and comfort of my life here, the changing seasons, the familiar faces—I couldn’t imagine ever leaving.

When I pictured my future, I imagined a quiet house in the suburbs with a flower garden and fantastic fire pit. I pictured two-point-five kids and a hamster. I pictured a partner who adored me, and a library and fabric room.

I pictured a quiet, fulfilling life, full of love, laughter, joy, and contentment.

And above all else, certainty.

I raised my head. “I want it. If I win and get the money, I want to buy in.”

They grinned.

“And if I don’t,” I swallowed. “I’ll find the money.”

Somehow.

My finances weren’t exactly in the best shape. The boutique paid well, but our small town had experienced a growth surge in the last few years, bumping up the price of housing. I had a meager savings fund tucked away but that wouldn’t get anywhere close to the kind of money I needed to become a partner in Bloom.

Maeve patted my hand. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, show me the examples Theo sent in to wow the judges.” She made a grabbing motion with her hand.

I flicked through my phone, finding the three designs.

She shuffled closer to Yasmin, tilting the phone her way. Together they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the designs.

“The drape of the dress,” Yasmin raved, shaking her head. “I want it. It’d be perfect for my maternity shoot.”

“And the bias cut on this skirt? Inspired,” Maeve agreed, flicking between the two. “I love the coat. The shape and colors remind me of a kimono .”

I hesitated. “It’s for my dad. He had an award event at his work.”

“It’s gorgeous. You should do more pieces that incorporate your heritage into your designs, they’re stunning.” Maeve handed me back the phone and pushed to a stand, dusting off her legs. “Do you need a hand, momma?” She wiggled her fingers at Yasmin, grinning.

Yasmin’s mouth twisted into a disgruntled smile. “If you insist.”

With exaggerated grunts and groans, Maeve hauled her out of the chair, both of them pausing in the doorway.

“We love you, babe.” Yasmin tapped on the dressing room door. “Whatever you decide.”

They left me alone, closing the door behind them.

With a long, slow sigh, I reached for my phone and read the email again, this time with new, hopeful eyes.

I could do this. I could try, and if I won I could ? —

As I read, my hope skittered off the rails, crashing and burning at the side of the road.

You and your partner are expected to arrive no later than 7 September.

Partner? What partner?

I read back over the email, and sure enough, there it was. The twist on this year’s competition—they wanted couples to compete together for the prize.

Let this competition be the start of your legacy together.

“Thank God.”

With a relieved sigh, I texted a screenshot of the email to Theo with the couples’ clause circled in bright red.

Mai

Next time, we read the fine print

I hit send with a wry chuckle.

“All that stress for nothing. What a waste.”

I glanced up, catching my reflection in the mirrors. My relief was evident, but there was something else there too—a flicker of disappointment.

Despite the anxiety, doubts, and the little voice in my head that said I couldn’t do this, Yasmin and Maeve had convinced me I should try.

No. I wanted to try.

But my dating life had been as dry as the Sahara for the last five years. Characters from my favorite novels were as close as I got to romance these days. And yet, even as I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best, I couldn’t shake off the competition entirely.

I pressed a hand to the wall of the bridal suite, breathing in the quiet of the room. I could co-own this business. These walls could be my walls. But I needed money to make this dream into reality.

I looked down at my phone, the email still glowing on the screen. The knowledge that they wanted me, had looked at my application and designs and liked what they saw, stirred a strange sense of longing. I didn’t need approval from my peers—but goodness if it didn’t feel good to know I had it.

Which made me wonder, what if this wasn’t the end of the story? What if it was just the beginning of a new chapter, one I hadn’t even realized I wanted to write?

I shook my head, laughing at myself.

“Come on,” I said, clicking the light off in the dressing room. “Back to work.”