Maybe it’s for the best. Reed deserves so much better than me.
But my heart still splinters into a million jagged pieces.
I call Scarlett, even though I know she’s in the math lab.
“Caroline?” I hear her worried tone.
“He left me, Scarlett,” I choke out, swallowing the sobs building in my chest.
“Wait. Slow down. Reed?”
I find a bench and sit. My legs are too shaky to make it to any spot offering privacy, and I’m in too much agony to care if I make a spectacle of myself. “Yes. He won’t talk to me.”
“No wonder he’s been such an ass. This must have happened a couple of days ago, huh?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” But I do. I’m just ashamed to admit it.
“I wish I could get away to talk to you, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and wipe my eyes. “No, I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
I release a tight laugh. “No, I’m not, but I’ve been through this before and I survived.” But loving Reed and loving Justin are two entirely different things. I’m not sure I’ll survive this loss.
“I’ll call you when I get done here. Maybe I can bring you your two favorite men.”
“At least Ben and Jerry don’t care if they make my hips wider. They love me anyway.” I choke on the last words.
“Oh, Caroline.” Scarlett’s voice is tight with tears.
“I’ve got to go.” I hang up the phone and smash down my sobs. There’s no time to wallow. It’s time to grow up, suck it up, and move on. Nine kids are counting on me, me. The only person who’s ever counted on me is myself and I’ve screwed that one up. What makes me think I can come through for these kids?
I’ve sure as hell failed Desiree.
I head to a bathroom and try to salvage my face. I have to go to the center for the kids’ fitting and I don’t want to go looking like this. I touch up my makeup, and when I’m satisfied I’ve done the best I can, I head to the workroom to get my pieces.
It takes several trips to get them to my car, and I can’t help thinking that if Reed were still with me he’d help me with this. Funny how I got so used to him being in my life in such a short time. But then again, my broken heart doesn’t feel that amused.
When I get to the center, I’m surprised to see Reed’s car in the parking lot. My chest constricts, and I become lightheaded.
Reed is here.
Why?
I get out and grab several hangers and walk into the tutoring center, preparing myself to face Reed. Instead, Lexi meets me at the door.
I blink. “Lexi. What are you doing here?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“I thought you might need some help.” She pulls me into a hug that lasts for several seconds.
She knows.
I take a deep breath and try to push away my disappointment with it.
“Are you okay?” she asks, searching my eyes.
“Yeah. Of course.”
She squints, obviously not believing me.
I force a smile and a brightness into my voice. “Let’s get started.”
Lexi helps me bring in the rest of the clothes. We carry them to the classroom we used last time. I remember Reed sitting next to me. Reed doing his model walk. Reed talking to the kids.
I’m not sure I can do this.
But the girls are excited to try on their clothes, squealing when they see the piles. They have no idea what I’ve made for them.
“Where’s Reed?” one of the girl’s asks.
“Yeah! Where’s Reed?”
Lexi gives me an apologetic look, then turns back to the girls. “Reed is here. He just can’t come see you right now.”
Reed is here.
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. I pull out a chair and sit.
Lexi squats in front of me. “Do want me to have the first girl change?”
I take a breath, trying to get myself together, then stand. This is my project. Fuck Reed.
I have the clothes sorted, according to child, so I hand the first outfit to one of the girls and ask Lexi to have the boys sent in too.
She stares at me for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
My shoulders stiffen. “I’m fine. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it.”
Lexi helps me keep the kids organized. She also has a good eye for design and loves what I’ve come up with.
“Caroline, these are beautiful but also practical.”
“But most importantly, they’re affordable.”
Actually, the most important part is that the kids love them. For the first time in days, I feel a semblance of happiness. Even if it’s fleeting.
After they’ve put their outfits for the show on, Lexi and I have them practice their walks. Brittany, the twelve-year-old aspiring model, has been practicing. When I’m satisfied, I hand them a paper with instructions on when and where to come to the show.
Lexi watches the kids leave the room. “There are only designs for nine kids. What are you doing for the tenth child?” Lexi pauses. “Oh. That’s why Reed is talking to Evelyn.”
My mouth drops. “He’s talking to Evelyn about Desiree?”
“Yeah.”
My mouth goes dry. “Why is he doing that?”
“Do you really not know?”
I shake my head.
“For two incredibly smart people, you are both so dense.” She turns around and walks out of the room. “Come on.”
We carry the clothes out to the car and walk to the main office. Dread drags my feet, making them so heavy I can hardly climb the steps. I want to see Reed. I’m scared to see Reed. Reed looking at me with disgust will kill me.
But when I walk in, there’s no disgust on his face. Only sadness and regret. He’s standing inside the door, as though he’s been waiting for me, although I’m sure that’s wishful thinking on my part. He doesn’t speak, just stands to the side as Lexi and I walk past him.
I follow Lexi into Evelyn’s office and we sit on the chairs, but I’m on autopilot. It’s taking every ounce of self-control not to get up and throw myself at Reed and beg him to forgive me. He’s here, and he’ll have to physically run from me to get away. This might be my only chance to tell him how sorry I am. But now isn’t the time.
Evelyn sits back in her chair. “Reed is a very stubborn and persuasive man. He’s convinced Desiree’s parents to talk to you. There’s no guarantee they will let her be in the show, but they’ll speak to you.” She tilts her head toward the corner. “And Reed.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I nod, unable to speak.
“All I ask is that you be respectful of their wishes. While Reed is representing the Monroe Foundation, you will be representing the charity.”
The enormity of this responsibility isn’t lost on me. “I’ll do my best to not let you down.”
She nods with a smile, then looks from Lexi to Reed. “I need to speak with Caroline privately for a moment.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. I feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what I could have done.
Reed leaves the room without a second glance, but Lexi raises her eyebrows in curiosity. I give her a half-shrug.
When they leave, Lexi closes the door, and I’m alone with Evelyn.
She smiles reassuringly. “The look on your face tells me you think you’ve done something wrong. I can assure you that that is not the case. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
My heartbeat slows a fraction.
“Involving the children in the fashion show has filled them with more excitement than any of us imagined. Not only that they are in the show, although some are very excited about that. It’s the fact they are getting one-of-a-kind clothes designed just for them. So many of these children face so many hardships, this is a bright spot for them. Thank you
for giving them that.”
I twist my hands in my lap, embarrassed. “You’re welcome. I wanted to make them happy.”
“I know. We all have noticed.”
I wait, wondering if there’s more.
“The Monroe Foundation has learned of your efforts and not only are they impressed, but they wish to offer you a job after you graduate. It would be in conjunction with our organization. You would be in charge of the clothing program for children in need. Instead of giving them gently used clothing, you would be in charge of procuring new clothing.”
I blink as I try to comprehend what she’s saying. “I would make clothing for all the children?”
“No, I think that would be an impossible task for one person. But we have connections to children in need and Monroe Industries has the resources to alleviate need. You would be the liaison.”
I release a breath and grip the arm of the chair. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I hope you’ll say you’ll think about it. You have the enthusiasm and fire to help improve the children’s lives. That’s what is going to make up for the anemic paychecks.” She mentions a salary and my hopes drop.
I try not to show my disappointment. I knew it was too good to be true. “Thank you. I’ll consider it.”
“The foundation would like your answer by the end of the show. If you decline, they believe in the program enough that they’ll find a new liaison.”
“Yes, I understand. Thank you.”
When I leave the room, Reed is waiting in the hall, staring at my photo. He glances up at me with an expressionless face. “We can go see Desiree’s parents in an hour. Lexi had to get back to campus for a study group, so if it’s all right, I’ll ride with you to her parents. And if you could give me a ride back to campus, I’d appreciate it.”
I nod, fighting my tears. “Of course. Reed, can we—”
Reed turns away and a sharp pain fills my chest. “We’re expected at six. We still have an hour to fill.”
“The kids were disappointed you weren’t there. We could go over so they can see you.”
He nods and opens the door, waiting for me to exit. If he really thinks I’ve found someone else, he has to hate me, yet he’s still polite. It makes me want to cry even more. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.”
When he walks outside, I turn to the photo on the wall. I need every weapon I have at my disposal. I lift it off the nail and stick it in my bag, even if I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Reed waits for me on the sidewalk, and we walk in silence. I want to talk to him, to apologize, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want to listen. He’s riding in my car. After we meet with Desiree’s parents, he’ll be forced to listen to my apology.
The children are excited to see Reed, and he gives them a genuine smile. Reed plays with them for the next half hour while I sit at a table, considering Evelyn’s offer—the Monroe Foundation’s offer. I could make a real difference in these kids’ lives. Can I really pass that up? But Evelyn mentioned a salary that is barely over the yearly tuition I pay to go to Southern. How long will it take me to pay off my loans? Every time I seriously consider accepting, a panic attack brews in the background.
I sit on a chair and pull out my sketchbook, looking over the design I’ve made for Desiree. I’ve picked this thing to death, and I hope it will help Desiree’s parents change their minds.
I glance up and find Reed staring at me, longing on his face. I suspect it would be easy to convince him I’m sorry, but I now wonder if that’s fair. I still don’t know if I can live with nothing, even if I’m certain I’ll never find anyone as wonderful as Reed.
Does that make me weak or does it make me strong?
If I love him, I’ll stop hurting him. I owe him that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The ride to Desiree’s house is tense. Reed sits in the passenger seat giving me directions, while it’s my turn to drive with white knuckles. Neither of us speak and the silence is awkward.
We pull up to the rundown house as the sun has begun to set. The porch light remains unlit but a light shines through the large living room window of the mid-century ranch house.
Reed opens the door and starts to get out but stops when he realizes I’m still gripping the steering wheel. He stares straight ahead. “You can do this, Caroline. If anyone can convince them, you can.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because you believe in your project.”
“You mean my collection?”
“No, your work with the kids.”
I can’t believe this man. He thinks I’ve found someone to replace him yet he’s still supporting me. “Why do you want to help me?”
His head turns toward me. “Because I still believe in you. What’s happened between us hasn’t changed that.” He opens the door. “Now let’s go help a little girl.”
I grab my bag and open the door. Reed stands at the edge of the broken concrete driveway. I ache to slip my hand in his. I’m surprised at how much I miss the little physical connections more than the sex. His fingers twined with mine. His hand around my back, his fingers resting on the curve of my hip. When he kisses me on the forehead.
I miss him.
But he was never mine.
We stand at the front door and knock. I’m about to jump out of my skin with nerves, but Reed who knows me so well, presses his hand to the small of my back, filling me with reassurance.
The door opens and light floods out through the crack, backlighting the man in the doorway.
“Are you the people from the tutoring center?” His tone is gruff, and it’s clear he sees us as an intrusion.
I’m about to answer, but Reed intervenes. “Mr. Diehl? I’m Reed Pendergraft from the Monroe Foundation. We spoke on the phone. This is Ms. Hunter. She’s a student at Southern and has been instrumental with involving the children in the show.”
Irritation prickles the back of my neck. I can’t believe he took over when this is my project. I also can’t believe he’s introduced me as Ms. Hunter. What is this? The 1950s?
Mr. Diehl scowls. “My wife and I agreed to meet with you, but we’re only giving you ten minutes.”
“Fair enough,” Reed says.
Mr. Diehl turns around and leaves the door open, his invitation to follow him in. He waves to a sofa with sagging cushions. Cigarette burns dot the upholstery and the beige walls are stained brown with nicotine. The carpet fibers are matted and smashed. The décor is stuck in decades past and put together piecemeal, most likely with family castoffs and thrift store finds.
I feel like I’ve stepped back into my childhood home.
Reed and I sit on the sofa and wait until Mrs. Diehl steps out of the kitchen. Two little heads stretch around the corner to investigate, but Mr. Diehl hollers, “Get back in the kitchen!” and they disappear.
When Desiree’s mother approaches, Reed stands and offers her his hand. “Mrs. Diehl, I’m Reed Pendergraft. Thank you for taking your valuable time to meet with us.”
She takes his hand and timidly shakes it.
I stand with him, offering my hand as well. When I start to speak, Reed interrupts. “And this is Ms. Hunter.”
I shake her hand then shoot Reed a glare as we sit, then start talking before Reed can take over again. “As Reed said, I’m a student at Southern. We work together on the fashion show to raise money for both the design department as well as the nonprofit tutoring center that Desiree attends.”
“That’s what we were told,” Mr. Diehl says.
“Desiree is actually the one who inspired me to involve the children. I was touring the center as a committee member and had a chance to talk to Desiree. I helped her with her subtraction and I told her that subtraction is important to my work. She started asking about what I did and that’s when I came up with this idea of including the children.” I see Desiree’s head poke around the corner and I smile at her. “Desiree is a beautiful little girl and I want her to have this
opportunity. Being part of a fashion show can be wonderfully empowering, as strange as that might sound.”
Mr. Diehl leans forward, his fingers digging into the worn recliner. “Put foolish nonsense in her head, is what it will do.”
Desiree’s mother gives me a sad smile. “I don’t want her gettin’ her hopes up. If she’s part of something like that, she’ll get her head in the clouds and think she can have a life like that, full of glamorous clothes and fancy cars.”
I’m not sure what kind of fashion show they think we’re having, but I understand their perception. “First of all, our show will be nothing like you see on television. We’ll be much more low-key and make it as unstressful for the children as possible.”
Mr. Diehl screws up his mouth. “Uh-uh. Nope.”
I hesitate, knowing I’m stepping on shaky ground as I reach into my bag and pull out my sketchbook, flipping open the pages to my design for Desiree. I hand it over to Mrs. Diehl. She’s the weakest link, but I doubt she has the decision-making ability.
She takes it with trembling hands. “What’s this?”
“The outfit I’ve designed for Desiree.”
Mrs. Diehl stretches her fingertips to the page, studying the design.
I hold my breath. I’ve spent a lot of time and put a huge part of my heart into the short pink ballerina skirt layered over bedazzled black leggings. The shirt is a long-sleeved black T-shirt, with airbrushed letters that say “Princess Power” and covered with a bedazzled pink jacket.
Desiree’s mother covers her mouth with her hand and looks like she’s about to cry. “It’s so pretty.”
“When I told Desiree I was studying fashion design, she asked if I could make her a dress that made her look like a princess. I took the concept and turned it into something practical. Something she can wear to school, but will still make her feel special. When the fashion show is over, the outfit is hers to keep.”
Her father snorts. “So she’s got one fancy outfit and a bunch of hand-me-downs. You put those clothes on that girl, and she’ll get all high and mighty and think she can move up the social ladder.”
I fight to control my temper. It’s as though I’ve been transported back in time to my own childhood. I’ll be damned if I let them tear down this child like my parents did to me.
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