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Sitting in a coffee shop with Abigail and Christy went better than expected. When I wasn't working at The Starlighter or underneath the sheets with Wyatt, I was sketching away design ideas for the first time in over a year. I gave up that dream a long time ago in New York. I failed. But as my anxious eyes dart between Abigail and Christy who stare at the pages in awe, my fears slowly drift away.

The sketches were designed to suit the audience who would be in attendance. Skorts for girls who rode horses and boots durable enough to step over rocks and be cleaned easily from mud. The ideas flowed so easily to me because I once was a fashionable girl who came to Darlington and had to encounter all of these obstacles. I wanted to create pieces that those in the audience would actually want to buy because they were useful and cute.

"These are incredible," Christy mutters as she continues to scan the pages. She's a woman in her mid-forties with bright red hair that is obviously dyed and a plump body hugged tightly by a form-fitting dress. "You'll have enough time to get these done before the show? It's only four weeks away."

I consider it thoughtfully, then nod. "I don't see why not." I'd have to work myself to the bone, but for a good cause, I'd make time. Plus, this fashion show is giving me the excuse to make clothes again, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm excited to do this.

"We might break the record this year," Abigal hums. She shakes her iced coffee around in the cup, rattling the ice before she takes another sip. "I'm buying every piece, Macey. I love them all. You're a genius."

"Let's not get our hopes up," I reply. "It's been a while since I've made anything, and although the sketches may look good..."

Christy reaches across the tiny table to give my hand a squeeze. "They're going to be amazing. Have some faith in yourself, honey."

I lost faith in myself a long time ago. When I was two weeks away from getting evicted and being so broke after losing my retail job. I had failed myself, and since I failed, I gave up my dream, too. If it weren't for Loretta's offer, I don't know what I would have done, but I certainly wouldn't have chosen to come back here to Darlington.

That's why I think Wyatt has been on edge ever since I told him about this fashion show. As much as he supports me, he knows that my dream doesn't involve me staying in Darlington, and if I start making clothes and fall in love with my passion again, will I want to move back to the city?

The barista calling someone's name pulls me from my thoughts. The aroma of coffee beans allows me to release a deep breath, all of the fears and outcomes coming out with it. "Thanks," I tell them. "As soon as I finish something, I'll show it to you. Do we have models yet? I'll need to get their measurements."

Abigail shakes her head. "Not yet, but all it'll take is a couple of local high schoolers to volunteer. I'll go ahead and make a few phone calls. Give me a few days and I'll have some rounded up in no time."

"Christy leans forward with a mischievous grin like she's a teenager herself. "Now that business is out of the way... Tell us what it's like to be back with Wyatt."

I arch a brow. "Is it really all over town?"

She shrugs and taps a pencil on the table. "Theories. No one is for sure yet, but Wyatt pickin' you up and twirlin' you around at The Starlighter is making it's way. Won't be long before the truth is out, so spill."

"Please," Abigail adds, giving a little whine. "I'm going to live vicariously through you since I haven't had any action in two years."

My mouth gapes. "Years?"

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