Darn Knit All (All Access #3)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

THEO

Theo

Best childhood memory?

Mai

A surprise Disneyland trip. You?

Theo

Eating ice cream with my dog

Mai

Nawww, that’s so wholesome

Theo

Should I get a dog?

Mai

Theo…

Theo

Enable me, Mai! Please!

Mai

Go cuddle a kidlet

Theo

Do you think Annie would let me steal one of the twins? She has two kids, surely, she doesn’t need both

Mai

Have you met Annie?

Theo

I’ll buy a dog instead

Mai

Safer bet

W e’d assembled early once again, but there was a buzz in the air, a tension of nervous anticipation that hadn’t been present during previous rounds.

The director positioned us just so, checking our hair and makeup, and adjusting our clothing.

“Five minutes,” Celeste yelled.

I checked the microphone, making sure it was turned off before turning to Mai.

“How you feeling?”

Her fingers twisted the ring on her finger.

“I’m coping.”

I caught her around her waist, wrapping her in a hug.

“Before this all goes down I need to say something.”

“If it’s that I snore?—”

I chuckled. “Hush, I’m being serious.”

Mai sobered, her gaze searching my face.

“I’m proud of you. You took a chance coming here, and I know it wasn’t easy. You’ve had a lot of shit thrown at you—not the least by me.”

She smiled at that.

“I wanted to thank you for letting me tag along. This has been one of the wildest and best adventures of my life. I know we’re going to win because you deserve it, but more importantly, because you’re a fucking awesome designer.”

“Two minutes!” Celeste yelled, passing by us.

“I want you to know,” I continued, “that no matter what happens today, no matter what happens tomorrow, knowing you, being here with you, has been the greatest privilege of my life.”

“Oh, Theo.” She reached up to pull my head down to kiss me.

“Thank you for everything,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against mine. “You’ve been my rock this whole experience. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Places!” Celeste bellowed, glaring at us.

Reluctantly, we let each other go and turned to the stage as Celeste began the countdown.

“And three, two.” She pointed at the cameras.

Michelle stepped onto the stage followed by the three judges.

“Welcome, finalists!” she enthused. “We’re into the final round and, baby, do we have a competition for you today!”

She clapped her hands, and out of the wings stepped three models, each wearing different outfits.

“Today we’re really putting your talents to the test. Over the next twelve hours, you’ll be asked to create three different pieces. A piece will be judged every four hours. You can present them in any order, but you must present one each time or be disqualified.”

She gestured at the models. “Each round you will receive points.” She pointed at the back of the stage which lit up with a blank leaderboard. “At the end of the third round, the team with the most points wins!”

She clapped her hands together, grinning. “Are you ready for this?”

Mai shook her head in the negative.

“Great!” Michelle held up a hand. “Ready, steady, sew!”

“Alright, what’s our game plan?” I asked, turning to Mai.

She glanced at me, panicked.

“Shit, do you need?—”

She held up a hand, halting my question. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and slowly let the breath out of her lungs.

“What’s she doing?” I heard one of the crew ask.

“No idea,” another responded.

I waited, watching proudly as she conquered her fear and panic, roping in her emotions.

“Accessible fashion,” Mai said, opening her eyes. “We’re going to create pieces that will help someone.”

“Go on,” I prompted.

She reached for a drawing pad. “Magnetic closures instead of buttons. A gorgeous suit that’s prosthetic friendly. Activewear with easy-access openings and fixtures. A dress that’s sexy and comes with a gorgeous built-in leg strap for a wheelchair user.”

She began to draw, her pencil flying across the page. “Accessible by design. That’s what we’re going for. Fashion that’s gorgeous and inclusive.”

I grinned, leaning over to watch as her vision began to take shape.

“Add zippers on both sides,” I said, tapping on the pants “We want anyone who has a prosthetic to have access—and that might mean they are a double amputee.”

“Good point.” She added in a quick reference to the zippers.

Her sketches came together as we bounced ideas off each other, incorporating patterns and colors that were unique to us and the brand Mai had created.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding up the drawings for me to see.

I studied the designs carefully, considering not only their form but their intended function. The suit was sleek and modern, with clever magnetic closures in place of fiddly buttons. The activewear featured easy-access zippers, with stylish loops to support one-handed users. And the dress… she’d knocked it out of the park. Flowing and elegant, but perfectly constructed for a wheelchair user to avoid tangling in wheels—not to mention the built-in leg strap, designed for those who needed additional support to hold their legs in place, matched the bodice perfectly.

“Home fucking run,” I laughed, lifting my hand for a high five.

She burst out laughing, slapping her hand against mine. “Now the hard part.”

I caught her up, cupping her face. “It’s only three pieces, Mai. Just remember that. Just three steps stand between you and winning.”

I kissed her gently, then pushed her away with a grin, slapping her on the ass. “Let’s get to it, Ms. Winner.”

I used an iPad to sketch out patterns that would tie each piece together, while Mai went to pull fabrics and fixtures.

The patterns had to be meaningful, something that reflected us.

An idea formed, taking shape.

“Activewear first,” she said, pinning an outline to a crimson fabric. “Then the suit, and we’ll finish strong with the dress. We need the time to layer it.”

“How do you like these?” I asked Mai, showing her the concept.

For the three pieces, I’d pulled together different sketches of origami cranes.

“What’s the meaning?” Mai asked, tracing her finger over the screen of the iPad.

“This might be cliched, but I feel like these represent us.”

I watched as Mai’s breath caught. “Paper,” she murmured. She glanced up. “That’s you.”

I nodded.

“And the crane?”

“You told me cranes are symbols of happiness, loyalty and strength.” I touched a hand to her hip. “That’s you.”

She swallowed. “Theo….”

I took the iPad back from her, tapping my finger against the screen. “What do you think? Too corny?”

“Absolutely.” She bumped her hip into mine. “I love it. You should hit print.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

The hours flew by in a blur of cutting, stitching, and fittings. We moved in tandem, shifting without asking, pivoting when something didn’t work, adjusting and cutting, and reworking each and every piece until we were satisfied with the results.

“Time!” Michelle called from the stage. “Designers, submit your first piece.”

Our activewear had come together perfectly—a crimson-and-black two-piece that was both stylish, functional, and accessible. We embroidered the origami pattern in the red fabric, subtly adding depth and interest.

I glanced around at the other teams. Gretchen and Jodie had submitted a dynamic yellow-and-black jumpsuit, while Keeley and Jude had created a sleek tulip pant with a braided jacket in an off-cream color.

The judges gushed over the other two teams before coming to us.

I gripped Mai’s sweaty hand, offering support.

“Mai and Theo,” Michelle announced. “Let’s see your first piece.”

Mai took a deep breath and stepped forward, our model following her. As she described the adaptable features and inclusive vision behind the activewear, the judges’ eyes widened, and I saw them exchange impressed glances.

“This is extraordinary work,” Minerva praised. “Combining high fashion with real-world accessibility—I adore your effort. Brava!”

The points were assigned and at the end of round one we were locked in a two-way battle for first with Jude and Keeley.

“Yes,” I hissed, shaking Mai back and forth. “We’ve got this.”

We returned to our station, and Mai’s hands flew over the machine, a flurry of movement that seemed superhuman. I assisted wherever I could, diligently putting into practice the lessons Mai had taught me.

I stopped for a sip of water, taking a beat to admire my incredible woman. She’d put herself out there, setting her emotions and comfort on fire to do this show. And here she was, bent over her machine, a small crinkle of concentration marring her forehead as she created magic.

I love her.

I twisted the lid back on my water bottle, quietly chuckling to myself.

Of course, I loved her. How could I not fall in love with my best friend? The real revelation was that it had taken me so long to realize. All those dates I’d sabotaged, all those times I’d text her—a basket of fries already ordered. She’d always been the one.

Mine.

“Five minutes remaining!” Michelle called.

“Almost there,” Mai murmured, her brow furrowed in concentration as she finished the final seam. She held up the magnetic closure suit jacket, examining it with a critical eye. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” I assured her. “Stylish, innovative, and made with care for the wearer. The judges will love it.”

We sent our model out onto the runway, the navy suit impeccably tailored, the magnetic closures shining subtly as she walked. Mai squeezed my hand nervously as the judges examined the garment.

Alison ran an approving hand over the fabric. “Excellent construction and such a clever, inclusive design. Your choice of the shape of the magnetic closures is perfect—it looks luxe while still being functional. And I must say, I love how you’ve once again used pattern to tie the pieces together. Well done.”

Gretchen and Jodie clawed back some points with a denim one-piece made from vintage scraps sewn into a patchwork quilt-like pattern. Jude and Keeley, meanwhile, produced a rather sensual piece of lingerie in a dark green that the judges had loved.

Despite Gretchen and Jodie’s hard work, the points once again had us neck and neck with Jude and Keeley going into the final round.

“We’re taking a lunch break,” Michelle announced. “Please help yourself to food.”

We headed over to the catering table and loaded up our plates. Gretchen and Jodie took a seat beside us, both looking glum.

“We’re too far behind,” Gretchen said, poking at her sandwich. “We’ll never make up the points.”

“Don’t be like that.” Mai bumped her with her shoulder. “Anything could happen. We could rip the train off a dress at the last minute?—”

“Done that,” I said around a mouth full of food.

“Or cut your hand open and bleed on the satin.”

I held up my bandaged pinky finger. “Guilty.”

“Or—”

Gretchen laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, okay, I get it. We could have a miracle.”

“You could,” Mai said firmly. “And that’s exciting.”

I couldn’t help but notice Jude and Keeley glaring daggers at us from across the room. I ignored them, taking a huge bite out of my sandwich.

So much for not being worthy of your time.

As lunch finished, I excused myself, heading for the bathroom. I was washing my hands when Jude entered.

He stopped beside me, crossing his arms, his glare still in place.

“You know,” I said easily, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser. “You’ll get more wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

“You’re about to lose.”

I snorted, tossing the used paper in the recycling. “Hate to break it to you, buddy, but we’re tied. This is anyone’s game.”

“That’s what you think.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know something I don’t? ’Cause so far the judges have been pretty clear about their opinions.”

Jude smirked, an ugly expression for such a beautiful man. “I know your little secret. You lied. Your relationship is a sham. And tonight, everyone else is going to know it too.”

The breath caught in my chest, and I had to work to keep my tone even. “Bullshit. Mai and I are the real deal.”

“Is that so?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to me. There in technicolor were texts I’d exchanged with a woman I’d tried dating about six months ago. She’d been nice, but we didn’t have any chemistry. We’d met for one date before agreeing there wasn’t anything to pursue.

Because you’d been in love with Mai.

“Either you’re a cheater, or you’re lying. Which is it?”

I swallowed. “How do you know these aren’t fake?”

He chuckled. “This woman happens to be my cousin. I know you met up for a date—she recognized you from the promotions.”

Fuck.

“So?” I said with a shrug. “Mai and I were on a break. We worked it out.”

“You really think people will believe that?” He chuckled, sliding the phone into his pocket. “I know the editor of the Astipia Daily . Once these are out in the open, I own the narrative.” He leaned in, his expression a smirking mess of nasty. “And how many others will come forward?”

None since his cousin, but there’d been more before her.

I’d overlooked my dating history when convincing Mai to join the show, too focused on wanting to give her this opportunity to recognize that I needed to protect her from my past. But that didn’t matter now. All the matter was that Mai and I were real.

I made a dismissive gesture, begrudgingly amused by Jude’s threat. “So go ahead. Mai and I will tell the truth. It’s not a big deal.”

“No?” Jude inclined his head toward the bathroom door. “Your girlfriend fell apart when they handed her candles. You really think she’s going to cope when your relationship is dissected on every national morning show?”

I sobered as the implication hit me, squeezing my chest and turning my blood to ice.

I could blow this off and work with the network to brazen our way through it—but I’d seen how gossip ripped people apart. Even a whiff of scandal resulted in people’s lives being destroyed as they were dragged through the mud.

I refused to allow that to happen to Mai.

I searched Jude’s face, trying to understand his motivation. “Is this about me? Or are you scared she’s going to beat you?”

Jude’s gaze flicked away, the only concession to my accusation.

“What do you want?” I ground out.

“For you to lose.”

“Why?”

“I’ve read up on you. What have you achieved? Nothing. You’ve ridden on the coattails of your brother for more than a decade.” His humorless chuckle crackled down my spine. “No one expects you to win. You’re a barely functioning human being.”

His comments landed a minor blow, but I brushed them off. “We got to the final, didn’t we?”

“ She did. You’re just lucky the other teams performed poorly.”

He turned away to wash his hands. Pity the water couldn’t wash away his spite.

I clenched my jaw, fighting for calm. “What exactly are you asking?”

Jude didn’t even spare me a glance. “Throw the game. Unless you have two-hundred and fifty thousand lying around to pay me to silence the story?”

I ground my teeth together, remaining silent.

“I didn’t think so.” He turned the tap off and reached for a paper towel.

“You’re broke.”

Jude slowly crumpled up the towel, tossing it in a nearby trashcan.

“That isn’t relevant.”

“This is blackmail.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Can you prove it?”

“What happens if I do what you ask?” I asked, my lips numb. Impotent rage burned in my gut, my hands shaking from the injustice.

He shrugged. “These images stay between us.”

“And if I don’t?”

He chuckled. “You know what will happen.”

Mai.

Fear hit me like a ton of bricks, clawing at my chest. “I can’t throw the competition. She’s worked too hard for this.”

“Then don’t be surprised when these are published.” He walked away, then paused in the bathroom doorway, glancing back. “I predict you’ll both be ruined.”

With that parting shot, he left, leaving me to death grip the bathroom sink. I lifted my head, staring at the man in the mirror.

“Shit,” I muttered. “What the fuck do I do?”

My reflection didn’t answer.