Page 84 of Patrick
Professor M frowns. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”
I nod. “But don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I’m not a fragile daisy.”
“Good. I suspected as much. In the meantime,” she straightens and uses a brighter voice, “let’s see if we can create another glam dress for you by tomorrow night.”
A smile develops as I latch onto the lifeline she’s throwing me.
“Absolutely. I already have a sketch and a list of readily available materials.”
“You gather up the materials and I’ll get started on making a pattern. Email me your sketches.” She stands.
“Really? You’re going to…”
“You bet I am, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s cheating. When emergencies come up in any design shop—and in life—people need to work together. All the decisions are yours. I’ll be an ordinary workhorse, your assistant until we’re finished.”
“You are the best, most generous professor I’ve ever had. I can’t thank you enough.” I want to jump over her desk and give her a big hug, but I know she’d be horrified because it might disturb her picture-perfect outfit and hair. Even her jewelry is arranged with delicate precision from the dangling earrings to the multiple ropes of pearls and silver beads to every one of her curated bangled bracelets.
“No need. Get to work and make me proud.”
After rushing around buying up materials at the Coop, including a few hockey jerseys, glittery trim, glue, and two jackets for their silver buttons, I rush home, drop my bags on my bed, rip off my coat, and throw open my closet door. There are a couple of gorgeous dresses and a sweater that I’m going to have to cannibalize.
Ricci comes into the room and follows me to where I stand in front of my closet like I’m a surgeon getting ready to operate on a dying patient.
“What the flick are you doing?”
I turn to her.
“And why do you have scissors in your hand?”
Later, with my head still down over my sewing machine, I’m startled to hear Trick’s voice through the closed door. It opens, and there he is with Nina standing behind him.
“Sorry,” she says as I keep my eyes on Trick. He stalks toward me.
Nina follows. “There’s no stopping Trick when he wants to see you. He threatened to pick me up bodily and toss me onto the couch, and as much fun as that sounds—”
Trick reaches me, and I jump to my feet and throw myself into his arms. The story spills out, though I’m careful not to directly accuse Darcy; he’s a smart guy.
“Where’s Darcy now?” His voice and expression are darker than I’ve ever seen except with Vincent. He’s normally so chill, using humor to deal with problems and a make-love-not-war mentality.
I don’t know, and I glance at Nina. He turns to her.
She shrugs. “She went out early, carrying a bag, and said not to expect her back for a while. She wouldn’t say where she was going when I asked, but she has a cousin who lives in Portsmouth that she’s visited before, so maybe she’s staying there?”
“Shit. Why would she leave now when we have the fashion show and Winter Snow Ball Saturday night?”
“Maybe because she found out about Professor M helping you on the project,” Nina says. “She was monkey-ass mad about it. Said it was cheating, but I defended you.”
“Thanks, Nina.” I give her arm a squeeze.
“Good riddance,” Trick says. “How can I help you?” He tightens his hold, and it’s a good thing he does because my knees are about to weaken at the raw emotions I see in his eyes, the earnest compassion that warms me like a hot chocolate fortified with a shot of whiskey.
I take his face in my hands. “Trick, I would love more than anything to have you at my side, but unfortunately, you’re too much of a distraction and you don’t have sewing skills.”
“I could be your model. Drape your dress on me.” He grins, and I decide he’s not serious, although I’m enjoying the image.
“Stop tempting me. Seriously. I’ll be meeting Professor M at our classroom first thing in the morning, and we’ll be working on this new design together,” I say. “I’m in good hands. Besides, I want this design to be a surprise for you.”
“For me? You have me all wrong; I’m not into wearing dresses—”
