Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“He will,” she says with confidence. “I want that so much.”
“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” I say to reassure her, even though I think it’s telling that Daxton’s mom is racing to New York. It can’t all be good news if she’s hopping on an airplane with little notice.
“I want to wear something just like that on my next date with Dax.” She runs a hand up and down in the air in front of me. “Where did you buy that ooh-la-la dress you’re wearing?”
My gaze drops to my dress. “An ooh-la-la dress? What does even that mean?”
She giggles. “It means it fits you like a glove and almost every man who comes within a ten foot radius can’t take his eyes off of you.”
That’s not true. Philip couldn’t keep his gaze on me during our short date. “I made this. I designed it as a required part of my first semester curriculum.”
“Wait. What?” Her eyes widen. “You’re a fashion designer?”
“I’m studying textile design,” I clarify, continuing because I’m proud of my present and my potential future. “I’m a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology.”
“You go to FIT?” she shrieks. “Are you serious?”
“Very.” I beam with a smile. “I actually sell some of my work online. I knit sweaters, hats, totes, all kinds of…”
“Where can I buy something?” she interrupts. “I’m all about supporting a fellow creative since I’m one myself.”
I quickly check my phone again to see how close our ride is. “What do you create?”
“I paint custom pet portraits, but it’s a part-time gig at the moment.” She cranes her neck to get a look at the screen. “Are you pulling up your online store?”
I almost tell her I’m not, but if a possible sale is in the mix, I have to lean in to that. My rent dropped when I moved into Astrid’s apartment after she moved in with Berk and his daughter. I was living with two classmates before that, but I’m still paying less per month now and I get to enjoy the solitude of my own company for the first time in my life.
Regardless, of the cost of my rent, Manhattan is not a cheap place to live.
I pop open the Etsy app on my phone and scroll through the knitted pieces that I currently have available. The prices reflect the fact that everything I sell is handmade.
“I love that one.” Penny leans in to tap a finger on the screen. “It’s like sunshine in a sweater.”
I glance at her face. “Yellow must look amazing on you.”
“It does,” she says with a wink. “I’ll tell you what, Els. You did say that we’re in this together, right?”
She pauses to jerk a thumb back toward the entrance to the hospital.
I did say that when I wasn’t sure what condition her blind date was in, but she can handle this on her own now.
“Let’s meet up here again tomorrow at noon.” She looks at my phone again. “You’ll bring the sweater. I’ll bring the cash, and we’ll talk to Mrs. Robinson together.”
As much as I need the sale, I suspect a noon meet up with Penny will morph into an all-day hangout at the hospital.
“I don’t have a lot of friends in the city,” she confesses softly. “In fact, the friend I mentioned earlier that set up Daxton and I is more of an enemy.”
I stare at her as I digest that word by word, but I still come up empty. “What do you mean?”
“My bestie from work arranged this, but we have a no contact after work hours policy.” She laughs that off. “I guess that’s why she isn’t responding to my text messages. Or it could be because I tattled on her to our boss last week, but he swore he wouldn’t divulge my identity.”
Too tired to sort through all of that, I take the easy route. “I can meet you here tomorrow, but I have to be someplace else by one.”
“An hour is more than enough time.”
She leaves that hanging so I have no idea if it’s more than enough time to exchange my one-of-a-kind sweater for her cold hard cash, or if she’s referring to talking to her blind date’s mom.
Either way, I’ll make one hundred and fifty dollars, and Penny will have some emotional support when she meets Daxton’s mom.
“We should exchange numbers.” She tugs her phone out of her clutch purse. “We’ve bonded. We’re friends now, right Els?”
“Sure, Pen,” I toss a comparable nickname back at her.
“What’s your number?” she asks with a grin.
I tell her the digits as I watch her key each into her phone.
“I’m sending you a text now so you can add me to your contact list.” She laughs. “Under Pen, of course, because I love that.”
I smile as soon as I read the text message that pops up on my screen.