Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I laugh, settling into our usual booth. “Definitely both. But it doesn’t matter. He was just being nice after I ruined his suit.”
“Sure, sure,” Chloe says, clearly not buying it. “That’s why you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. A very sexy truck.”
I roll my eyes, but I can feel heat rising up to my cheeks. “Can we just order our drinks and pretend I’m not a walking disaster?”
The waitress arrives, and we place our usual order of peppermint martinis. As she walks away, Chloe leans in, her expression turning serious.
“So, how did it go today? Any word from the banks?”
I sigh, the brief spark of excitement from my encounter with Cole fading. “Another rejection. Apparently, my ‘lack of collateral’ and ‘unproven market potential’ make me too risky.”
Chloe reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Their loss. Your designs are amazing, Sloane. Someone’s going to see that eventually.”
“Maybe,” I say, not entirely convinced. “But right now, it feels like I’m screaming into the void. No one wants to take a chance on something different.”
Our drinks arrive, and I take a long sip, letting the cool peppermint wash away the taste of disappointment. The familiar flavors remind me of past Christmases, of the excitement and hope I used to feel at this time of year. Now, it just feels like one more reminder of dreams deferred.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say slowly, tracing patterns in the condensation on my glass. “Maybe it’s time for a change. A big one.”
Chloe leans forward, intrigued. “What kind of change are we talking about here?”
I take a deep breath, finally voicing the idea that’s been growing in my mind for weeks. “I’m thinking of leaving Moth to the Flame. Diving off the cliff with no safety net. I need to do something drastic to make this dream of mine happen.”
“Wow.” Chloe breathes. “That’s . . . that’s huge. Are you sure?”
I nod, feeling a mix of terror and exhilaration at the thought. “I’m suffocating there, Chlo. Every day, I’m forced to create things that don’t represent me, that don’t challenge anyone or anything. If I stay, I’ll lose myself completely.”
Chloe studies me, her brow furrowed in concern. “I get it, I do. But how will you support yourself? You said the banks won’t give you a loan.”
I take another sip of my martini, steeling myself. “I’ve been saving every penny I can. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get started. I figure I have about three months of runway before I’d have to start waiting tables or something.”
“Three months isn’t a lot of time,” Chloe points out gently.
“I know,” I admit. “But I have to try. If I don’t do this now, I never will.”
Chloe nods slowly, a smile spreading across her face. “You know what? You’re right. It’s time for Sloane Whitmore to take over the world with her badass jewelry.”
I laugh, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. “I don’t know about taking over the world. I’d settle for making enough to pay rent and keep designing.”
“Oh please,” Chloe scoffs. “Your stuff is incredible. Once people see it, you’ll be the next big thing. I can see it now—‘Sloane Whitmore: The Dark Rose of the Manhattan Jewelry Scene.’”
I nearly choke on my drink. “The Dark Rose? Really?”
Chloe grins. “Hey, every designer needs a dramatic nickname. Might as well claim yours early.”
“I think the nickname needs work.” I laugh, shaking my head at Chloe’s enthusiasm.
But beneath the amusement, I feel a spark of something I haven’t felt in months—hope. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is my moment to finally show the world what I can do.
As we finish our drinks, I can’t resist the urge to scan the bar, wondering if I’ll catch another glimpse of Cole. But the crowd has thinned, and there’s no sign of his commanding presence.
“Earth to Sloane,” Chloe says, waving a hand in front of my face. “You’re thinking about Mr. Expensive Scotch, aren’t you?”
I feel my face heat. “No, I was just . . . okay, maybe a little.”
“I knew it. Spill. What exactly happened before I got here?”
I recount the collision, the ruined sweater, and our brief conversation. As I describe Cole’s interest in my designs, I find myself wishing I’d had the courage to show him my sketches.
“Sounds like you made quite an impression,” Chloe says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes. “Please. He was just being polite after I ruined his suit. Besides, men like that don’t go for women who wear light-up reindeer sweaters and can’t afford their own scotch.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Chloe insists. “You’re brilliant, talented, and gorgeous. Any man would be lucky to have you spill drinks on him.”
“Thanks, Chlo. But right now, I need to focus on my career, not some random encounter with a handsome stranger.”