Chapter 8 Cherry

Chapter 8 Cherry

Seven Years Later

Afternoon light flooded my art studio as I traipsed up the stairs into the airy space. Maisy, my assistant designer, trailed behind me, slower as she gingerly ascended with a gown draped across her arms as though it were made of glass.

“Put it on the mannequin, and you can get on with the alterations this afternoon,” I said.

“Sure thing,” Maisy chirped.

My heels clicked over the hardwood floors, and I folded myself gratefully into my desk chair. I didn’t think I’d sat down all day.

My gaze tracked to the dress Maisy was draping over the mannequin. The striking burgundy gown was a bespoke number made for the actress AJ West. She’d requested me to make something for the BAFTA award ceremony she was attending as a nominee. It wasn’t for another month, and I was pleased with the fitting we’d just had with AJ and that the final alterations had been agreed on.

I slipped one foot out of my heels, massaging its arch with my other foot. The downside to designing and making clothes for celebrities was that they tended to be high maintenance. Where most people would have one or two fittings, A-listers often demanded three or four before they were satisfied. But, as I looked at AJ’s burgundy gown awash in the bright sunshine, I felt the usual excitement trill through me. The celeb would be wearing my design on the red carpet, which I knew would bring a deluge of referrals to my door.

It was a mark of how far I’d come that I was working with so many of the rich and famous. I’d been lucky enough in my fourth and final year of studying at Berlin’s Akademie Mode and Design to be awarded the Black Dress Award for the most-talented designer. Then, a year after graduating, some of my designs had received the MUSE Award for most innovative design. Now, two years after graduating, my reputation was established and I’d been able to rent a storefront here in central Berlin to sell my clothing range. As well as have this studio, where I designed and created. I employed a couple of sales assistants who managed the store, as well as Maisy, to help me here in the studio.

I clicked open my calendar on my computer to check what I had in terms of appointments tomorrow. Then a meeting for this afternoon snagged my eye: final year interns, Mode & Design, introduction, 15:00 pm.

“Oh, bother,” I exclaimed.

Maisy’s dark eyebrows shot up, her gaze darting to me.

“I forgot those final-year students arrive today,” I explained. It was already half past two. “I need to pick Fern up.”

The school bell would be sounding at my daughter’s school at three. That was, perhaps, the biggest surprise I’d had over the last seven years. Shortly after arriving in Berlin, I discovered that I was pregnant. After fretting about what to do, I decided to go ahead with the pregnancy. My university had been amazing about it, and I’d been able to defer for a year. Balancing studying and motherhood had by no means been easy, but I loved being a mom even more than being a designer.

“I can go get Fern if you like,” Maisy offered.

Maisy had been with me for six months, and she really had become indispensable, not just with her excellent work in the studio, but happy to run errands like the school run or grab us dinner when we were pulling late nights here.

I smiled at my assistant. “Thanks, but I need you to finish AJ’s dress this afternoon. I know what she’s like. She’ll just drop by tomorrow even though I said it wouldn’t be ready for two days.”

Maisy nodded, her lips quirking. “Ah, celebs, thank god they pay well.”

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. Despite having three employees, there still never seemed to be enough of them to get everything done. It was why I’d taken on the final-year students as interns. It was a great way to have an extra few sets of hands in exchange for giving them experience within a real work setting.

My gaze tracked to the rails of clothes and design books I wanted to look out before they arrived. I pulled a few of the sketches tacked up above my laptop from the wall: my new design range for the fall.

Then, I fished my phone out of my handbag. Scrolling through my contacts, I called Carl.

He picked up after two rings. “Hi Hun, how’s it going?”

“Hey, Carl,” I said. “Good, thanks, but I forgot I had this meeting this afternoon. Any chance you can pick up Fern in half an hour?”

“I’d be happy to,” he said smoothly.

My smile grew. “You’re the best.”

“No worries, Darling. We’ll have dinner ready for when you get back. See you later.”

My stomach fluttered as I said goodbye and hung up. Carl had used “Hun” plenty for the last two months we’d been dating, but he’d never used “Darling.” I liked the way it had just fallen from his lips so easily. I liked him. And, perhaps even more importantly, Fern didn’t seem to hate him like she had my other exes. It had been a year since I’d attempted to date since my last relationship. And it had been a welcome surprise to see Fern warm to my latest suitor. He’d picked her up and cooked dinner for her last week too.

“Crisis averted,” I said to Maisy, who was eyeing me with a knowing smile as I got off the phone. “Carl’s getting her.”

“Ooo, another dinner date with Carl,” my assistant said suggestively as she got to work on the dress.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile from spreading across my face again. As I prepped the necessary books for the interns, got out samples of material, and set my designs on the long white table we’d be working at, I felt my excitement growing about Carl and the future that was developing.

It was seven o’clock by the time I let myself into my apartment. The students had kept me until five, and then I’d had to check over the takings for my store below before closing up for the evening. As I slipped off my heels in the hall, I felt a sigh of contentment as I stole barefoot down the hall and into the kitchen.

Two almost full dinner plates rested on the kitchen table, and I frowned. “Carl?”

Just then, Carl darted into the kitchen, wide-eyed, and his usually charming expression strained. “Thank god you’re back. Fern’s not well.”

My heart ricocheted through me. “Where is she?”

“In the bathroom,” Carl said, running his hands through his wavy brown hair.

I shot into the bathroom, panicked to find my daughter slumped against the wall by the toilet, clutching her stomach.

“It’s okay, Sweetie, I’m here.” I touched her forehead and saw the slight rash across her chest, and knew instantly what was wrong. Fern had a lactose allergy.

I darted to the medicine cabinet, taking out the antihistamine pills. I filled a glass of water and kneeled down on the tiles, making my daughter swallow the medicine.

“How was school today, Sweetie,” I asked, trying to distract her from her discomfort, but she just whimpered.

To engage her, I told her that AJ was in today, knowing that she always liked to hear which celebrities had visited the store. Ten minutes later, Fern was telling me about the Maths quiz she won in her class today and tugging me into the kitchen to admire the latest of her art pieces showcased on the fridge. Relieved that my little girl was okay, I let her entertain me with tales about the rest of her school day before getting her ready for bed and tucking her in.

An hour later, Carl and I had polished off the offending food while I listened to what must be his fifth apology of the night. “I’m so sorry, Hun. I just put butter in without thinking.”

As I started to clear the table, I said, “It’s okay. Fern’s fine.” But the tension from finding my daughter so clammy and in such pain hadn’t yet left me.

As if Carl could sense it, he topped up my glass of white wine and said, “I’ll clean up. Go put your feet up.”

In the living room, I recline on the comfy cream couch, enjoying the crisp Riesling in hand. Breathing in the scent of the houseplants dotted throughout the room, I felt calmer. There was a dozen or so mature plants, the fig, monstera, and cordyline, some of my favorites. A bit like when designing clothes and thinking about texture, I’d found myself buying and nurturing plants, their different leaves adding such a welcome diversity to the space.

When Carl joined me on the couch, he pulled my feet into his lap and started to massage them. Setting my glass down, I closed my eyes, my body humming with satisfaction and a shiver of desire as his expert fingers kneaded my bare skin. I wondered how they’d feel stroking the rest of my body.

We hadn’t done much more than kiss yet. He had been patient with me, knowing I wanted to be sure about him before we slept together. I’d explained that I couldn’t afford to be reckless with my heart, for Fern’s sake. He’d agreed from the start to our no sleep over rule until we were sure about each other.

I opened my eyes. “Okay, another ten minutes of this, and you’re absolutely forgiven,” I joked. My voice came out breathier than expected, highlighting how affected I was by his touch.

A spicy smile painted his face, and his voice sounded low. “I’d happily do this for hours.”

My gaze dipped to his lips, and Carl moved, his mouth crashing into mine as his body moved over mine. Our lips devoured each other, and longing swelled through me as his muscular body pressed against me.

As I surfaced for air, Carl’s green eyes skimmed my face. “God, I love you.”

And my tension skyrocketed again. We’d only been dating for two months. He must have read my distress because he moved away from me but didn’t take his bright green eyes off me.

“I know it’s soon,” he said, running a hand through his mussed hair. “But I’m going to tell you how I feel so you know I’m serious. About you. And Fern.”

As I sat up, I managed to get my tongue in gear, “I like you a lot, and I’ve loved spending time with you. I know Fern’s enjoyed it too.”

Awkwardness swam through me as I wondered if he’d retreat since I couldn’t yet say the same thing back.

But the same confident and charming smile remained on his face. “I wanted to tell you how I felt, Cherry. I love you, and I can’t wait to spend more time with you and Fern.”

Our kisses and caresses for the rest of the evening were tender and full of burgeoning feelings. With lots to think about, I kissed him goodbye at the door. A thrill of excitement wound through me at Carl’s confession, and after checking on Fern, I went to bed with my head full of him. Yet, beneath the buzz, worry gnawed at me. I’d told him about Fern’s allergy. I’d mentioned it as soon as we’d started dating. As well as reminding him the handful of times we’d cooked together here. How could he have forgotten something so important?