Chapter Thirty-Five

Bianca

When you didn’t work, every day was Sunday. So I decided I’d do what I usually did on a Sunday—sketch.

Now, especially, it gave me purpose.

So choosing to pull back the curtains in the living room, I sat down on the floor in front of the couch with my sketchbook and pencils.

I was considering a colored wedding dress today, noticing that had been a trend lately. Blue seemed to be increasingly popular, but I was drawn to red, so I tried a few looks, but didn’t like them and ended up tearing the pages out and crinkling them up.

The colored idea was out, I decided, clearing my head.

Reaching for my phone, I turned music on, hoping that would help. After a few more failed attempts, my pencil was flying across the page. So pleased with what I’d created, I picked up my book and held it to my chest, dancing in circles with it to the music that played in the background.

Just as I pushed it away from me to look at it once more from this new angle, Knox, of course, walked in and started laughing at me.

“What are you doing?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he fought a smile, but it was clear he was amused by my actions.

Acting coy, my lips turned downward and I shook my head slightly, immediately pulling the sketchbook back to my chest and slumping down on the couch. “Nothing.”

Walking up to me, he raised an eyebrow. “Come on, tell me. That’s like the third time I’ve seen you with that thing. What are you doing over there?”

I closed the cover and stuffed it under a pillow. I wished this was one of those out of sight, out of mind moments, but something told me he wouldn’t forget it just because a pillow was resting on top of it. “Don’t you have work to do?” Ha! That was a valid question. The fashion business never slept, so why should he be able to take a break? How could he afford to, really?

A mischievous look crossed his face and he smirked. “No. Come on,” he said and slipped his arms around me in the direction of the pillow. “Please,” he tried, his hands behind me, now laying down on top of the pillow, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes.

Well, if he was an adorable pomeranian, then I was an Italian greyhound—sweet but snappy and aggressive when I needed to be.

Before I could respond, that mischief was back and his hands were all over my stomach, tickling me like no tomorrow. Due to our previous friendship status two years ago, he happened to know a lot of my dirty little secrets. Well, this one was less dirty, but I’d definitely tried to keep it a secret. I was ticklish. Like laugh-so-hard-I-could-pee-my-pants ticklish.

I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. At all. I was in stitches. He found my ultimate ticklish spot on my stomach (around my belly button) and wasn’t letting up. “Knox,” I begged, my hands around his wrists. “Stop, stop.”

He paused long enough to ask, “Are you going to tell me?”

I sucked on my lips and shook my head. “Never!” If he wanted to know that bad, it would have to be over my dead body.

“I know what you’re hiding!” he said, his eyes widening as though a lightbulb had gone off. He continued tickling me until I was almost a ball on the floor. He crouched down on the floor, too, to continue his all-out tickle war. “You have pornographic drawings in there!” Relenting, he paused and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

Catching my breath finally, I exhaled deeply. “You wish!” I pushed my hands out, holding him at bay.

He slipped off the couch and sat on the floor in front of it next to me. There was something so casual about his demeanor right now, I was so attracted to him in this moment but remembered his request that we keep things friendly. That was right, I was being mature and had been since our hot dog moment.

I mean, come on, I’d given it the best I had, pushing his buttons in all the ways I knew and nothing. Literally nothing. Zip. Zilch. Like liquid, this man seemed to be unbreakable. Or that egg the other morning when I had tried my hand at making an omelet—also unbreakable.

So, I decided toying with him was the wrong play here. I needed to respect his wishes, so I had been and was right now, too, even though it was killing me. I called that personal growth, thank you very much!

“Seriously, what’s going on with the notebook?” Knox turned to me, his arms hanging over his knees that were up in front of him as he sat on the floor with me. “I’ve never known you to be secretive.”

I shrugged and flipped my hair. “I’m usually not, but this is something I haven’t shared with anyone.” I was more than a little nervous about it, if I was being honest. No one knew my fantasy about designing wedding dresses. I was afraid if they did, no one would take it seriously or they’d pacify me, saying I should go for it, but not really meaning it.

Right now it was only mine and it felt safe that way. I already knew the facts:

1. I had no background in design.

2. I worked in ad sales and was good at that (thank you, Karoline, for the reminder).

3. The likelihood that I’d make it as a wedding dress designer was slim to none.

I knew all of this.

But sometimes it was nice to push it to the back of my mind and do something I loved. Even if it was silly. It was my silly thing to do.

“Not even your sisters?” Knox’s question broke me from my reverie.

I shook my head and he let out a low whistle. Let’s just say this was one of those things I wish I would’ve talked about with Mom before she died, but I couldn’t go back in time as much as I wanted to.

For some reason I’d always found it easier to open up to her about any and everything. I’d imagined how the conversation would go a thousand times. I always believed she’d be happy for me and wish me luck.

She had supported me in everything I’d ever done and never faulted me when I made a bad choice. In fact, she’d lived by the notion that the worst choices brought about the most beautiful discoveries. Mom was a beautiful soul.

I placed my head on the top of my knees and looked down.

I could tell Knox. Or I could keep it to myself, reserving my sketches just for me and take it to my grave. It didn’t seem like a bad idea, but it was a lonely one.

I should share this with someone, right?

Lifting my head, I rubbed my hands down my thighs as he said, “You don’t have to tell me, but if you need to talk, remember I’m here.”

Absorbing his words, I sat in silence for a second and thought about what he’d said. I nodded my understanding and watched as he placed his hand on the floor for leverage as he started to lift himself up. But I stopped him. “Wait,” I finally said and reached behind me to pull my sketchbook out from under the pillow. “I’d like to share it with you.”

Otherwise unmoving, he hitched an eyebrow in the air. “You sure?”

Again, I nodded. “Yes.” The full weight of that one word rocked me to my very core.

There was no going back now. Technically I was still holding it and didn’t have to give it to him, but I should, I should give it to him. I should let someone in.

Uhh, this was harder than I thought, letting someone in. Giving my body to a man and being physical with them, letting them take me to new heights and share in that experience was one thing, but never had I ever opened up this much to anyone, let alone a man. I had never felt safe enough to, and that was the key. They never wanted to know more about me. They wanted to explore me, but not actually dig deep to learn about me. Who I was—who Bianca Morelli was.

Was everyone this nervous before being the most vulnerable they had ever been? Because, if so, why did they do it?

With somewhat shaky hands, I opened the cover of my sketchbook and passed it over to him, ready to let Knox in. For him to know a piece of my heart I wasn’t ready to share with anyone else yet.

Taking it from me, he held it in front of his eyes and zeroed in on a sketch I was most proud of.

When you’re a kid, you’re constantly asked, if you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be? I’d always said flying because I’d thought that would be pretty cool, right? Fairies did it and I’d wanted to as well. But, in this moment, in this very moment when Knox was practically seeing the deepest part of me—the one thing that mattered more than anything ever had—I wished for the power to read his mind.

His eyes weren’t moving from the first ones I had done. It was a duo, two dresses in different styles. What did he think of them? Both were possible bridal gowns, or one a bridal gown and the other a dress for a daughter or bridesmaid, I wasn’t sure at the time I drew it. I just knew I wanted two complimentary looks. I added a little color to the page and really had fun drawing them. That was years ago, I remembered. Yeah, it was years ago, so he should probably just skip over it. Why is he staring at it for so long?

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to control my nerves and stop myself from taking it back, from ripping it from his hands so he couldn’t see anymore. “Maybe—” I went to go talk, but when he looked up at me with his brown eyes, they were filled with unmatched kindness and compassion. That was all I needed to steady my heart rate and stop speaking. I needed to remember this was Knox and he was a good guy, one of the best ones I’d known.

Running his index finger over the lines of the dresses, he stared at it for a beat before turning to me.

Out with it, my brain shouted at him.

“Bianca, these are incredible. Are they wedding dresses?” he asked, pointing to the full skirts.

“Yes, that’s the idea.”

He sat up straighter and turned to face me, his eyes bouncing between mine. “Is this your dream dress or something?”

“Something like that.” Honestly, I didn’t know what I was nervous about. The way Knox validated me in every way, how could I think this would be any different?

Suddenly excited to share more with him, I instructed, “Keep flipping,” and he did.

My stomach was in knots, but in the best possible way. I couldn’t believe after all this time, keeping this secret, I was finally able to share it with someone. Correction: I finally wanted to share it with someone.

As I waited while he flipped, I rolled my lips and fussed with my hair, a definite sign of just how nervous I was.

“There are pages and pages here.”

I shrugged and decided to fully explain things to him. “I have this dream of designing wedding dresses. It’s stupid, really, but something I always wanted to do.”

He angled his head. “Really? For how long?”

“Long enough.”

He set the sketchbook down on his lap and searched my eyes. “Then why aren’t you doing that?”

That was a loaded question. I wasn’t even sure where to begin. “I have a job.” I cringed before correcting myself—“had.”

“That’s all the more reason to do this. Take the leap. You could really have something here, Bianca. You have the connections, you know the industry.”

“Not bridal. That’s very niche.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can do this. You’re Bianca Morelli. You can do anything you put your mind to. And if you do find yourself struggling along the way, you know plenty of people who will want to help you.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

He grinned and put his hands up in the air. “What? It’s true.”

“I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want special treatment, either.”

“If your mom was here, would you not accept her help if she offered it?”

I hadn’t really thought about it. “I suppose,” I said, dragging the word out as I considered it.

“Of course you would because not doing so would be an insult to her and you wouldn’t do that. Besides, she was Regina Morelli.”

At that last part I laughed. “You can’t just keep saying our names like we’re special.”

He laughed with me. “You are special. The whole lot of you. Don’t you understand? That’s why your father was so hell-bent on protecting you all those years ago, and even now. He knows you’re special and doesn’t want people taking advantage of you.”

“But that’s exactly what I’d be doing to make a name for myself if I used my connections—I’d be taking advantage of people.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Big deal. Do you know how many people your mother helped? Rina was just one of many I bet.”

I’d never thought of it that way. Why had I never thought of it that way? Everyone got help at some point, right? And if I needed help, then I didn’t need to suffer or fail at this on my own. It wasn’t taking advantage, really, it was just getting help. “You know what, you’re right. If I need the help, I can ask for it, but I think I can do this.”

“I know you can do this. These designs are those of a designer. You, Bianca, are a designer.”

I licked my lips and looked down for a moment before picking my gaze back up and staring at him as I nodded. “You know, you’re brilliant, Knox Rhodes.”

He pretended to act bashful and waved me off, but I meant it. He was brilliant. I couldn’t believe how perfect all of this was. This was exactly the right time. It was my time. I couldn’t waste another second of it. This was what I’d always wanted to do and it’d be hard work, but it’d be all my own and I would love every second of it. So that was it. I was doing it; I was going to be a wedding dress designer.

Suddenly the words from the headline of my dreams popped back in my head. Bianca Morelli Breaks into the Fashion World, What’s Next for this Young Lady? Except this time I could see it coming to fruition.

Maybe it wasn’t ideal because Mom wasn’t here to see it, but I had no doubt that she was watching and would continue to watch it all from above. I had a feeling that, if she could, she’d even help me make this thing work.

Angelo didn’t know it yet, but he’d done me the biggest favor ever by freeing me from my role at the magazine. Because it put all of this into motion and allowed me to finally free myself from the shackles I’d put on myself that kept me from moving forward.

I needed to remember that I wasn’t one thing. I didn’t need to box myself in. I once was an advertising executive, sure, but I was a designer, too. I was Bianca Morelli, and I was about to strut into a new phase of my life.

The wedding industry better watch out, because I was coming fast and furious.