Page 120 of The Design of Goodbye
I wished so badly he could. We were less than a foot apart, but he felt miles away. As much as I wanted him to open up, I couldn’t force him. I could only hope, at some point, he would.
“I won’t.” I hugged him. His helmet dug into my neck and shoulder. I didn’t move, because I could tell how much he needed the hug by the way he held me. “Come back after work if you don’t want to be alone tonight. Promise?”
“Promise.”
* * *
He came back.
It was after three in the morning, and I didn’t bother to turn on my lights. I opened my window, and Liam crawled through, changed into his pajamas, and got into my bed. I curled up next to him. We didn’t speak.
We didn’t need to.
chapter forty
I tried on the dress late Sunday night.
It fit me perfectly, like my mom had been thinking of me when making it. It was my favorite piece she’d ever made because it was the first piece of her I’d had since July.
I started crying. I cried because I missed her. Because I was mad at myselfformissing her. Because all she’d left me was a letter. She’d been able to leave her husband, her daughter, her whole life, like it’d all meant nothing. It’d been that easy.
I couldn’t breathe. I pulled at the zipper, desperate to get out of the dress. It got caught on the thick fabric because she’d used the wrong zipper. She always had.
Years ago, I’d suggested she use sturdier ones. She’d ignored me for two weeks.
I pulled harder, and the zipper snapped off. It flew across my room and hit my wall. I didn’t care if it’d broken. I could fix the dress if I wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
Once free, I stared at the crumpled dress on the floor as I wiped my cheeks and gasped for air. I wanted to burn the dress like her letter. I bent to pick it up, determined to take it outside to my outdoor fire pit, when something caught my eye.
A tag.
It read: ModVictor.
ModVictor. My mom had always dreamed of owning a boutique in New York and naming it ModVictor. She’d never used the name on any of her previous pieces because she’d said she was saving it for when she was ready.
Apparently, she was ready.
I grabbed my laptop. For months, I’d been too scared to search for my mom online. I hadn’t been ready. But I was now. I couldn’t wait any longer; I needed to know where she was and what she was doing. My hands shook so much I kept mistyping the name. When I finally got it right, a link for a website popped up. The website was new and didn’t contain much content. She had a few items available to purchase, a link to Lace & Frills, and a form for custom orders.Custom orders?She’d always hated designing pieces that weren’t her ideas.
Also listed were a phone number, e-mail address, and PO box confirming she lived in Traverse City.
That wasn’t what surprised me the most. It was the artist’s profile. When I clicked, an image of my mom filled the screen. She looked like a completely different person: new hair, new makeup, newname.
She’d written a short bio about herself. She talked about her love for fashion. Her dream of moving to New York.
She never mentioned me.
* * *
The next morning, I woke in a very bad mood. My bad mood stayed with me throughout school and followed me to work. Like Liam, Taylor noticed instantly. I’d been staring at an order form for over ten minutes when she walked over and handed me my coat.
“What’s going on?” I asked, worried my bad mood was so awful she wanted me to leave. But then I noticed she had her coat on, too.
“It’s snowing,” she explained, “so we’re going to go outside and drink tea.”
Since working at Invisible Thread, Taylor had never asked me to go outside to watch snow fall and drink tea.
