Tangled Yarns

18: Diamond Stitch

The largest annual gathering of musicians is more than Elena can imagine, especially since the guests will be known to her, but she will be a stranger to them. The whole thing feels awkward. What if no one talks to her? What if she fumbles her drink? What if she trips in her evening gown? Of course she had done well at the charity ball in the fall in Manchester, but that had been small time compared to this event.

"Turn to the side, please," says the Gucci fitter. Feeling like a fish not just out of water but also expected to climb a redwood tree, Elena follows the directions given, wondering when Harry will rescue her.

Just then a wolf whistle sounds, and she grins, knowing that her boyfriend has arrived from his fitting on the other side of the store. Twisting her head (without moving her body), Elena checks him out from head to toe. They had agreed to match for the big event, and he looks incredibly handsome.

Which just reminds Elena that she doesn't belong on a red carpet. This isn't her world. What had he been thinking to invite her? He's probably regretted it every day since they arrived in Los Angeles. Which has been two days. By the time Sunday evening rolls around in another four days, he will want to pull out his hair due to her anxiety.

In that moment, watching him move around to the front of her, she vows to keep her insecurities to herself. He's got enough on his plate, and the last thing he needs is a flaky girlfriend. She will make him proud if it kills her.

"I always knew you deserved to be on a pedestal," Harry quips, and Elena blushes. The hem is perfect now, and the employee signals that she may step down. Taking her hand, Harry guides her to the floor to press a kiss against her cheek. "You look beautiful, honey," he whispers.

Blushing, Elena is confident that he's telling her what he thinks she wants to hear. Her hair is a mess, as she'd been unable to wrangle it into submission before their appointment. The dampness of the ocean air made it frizzier than usual. This morning, she'd barely swiped lipstick on, so she knew her face wasn't as gorgeous as even the saleswoman's.

California is giving her body issues, she thinks. The women who walk around, even in February, wearing bikini tops with jeans, their flawless bodies swaying to whatever mystery music is playing in their headphones, make her feel inferior. Why had Harry chosen her? Surely now that he was back in the city of goddesses and dreamy perfection, he would recognize the error of his ways.

"Shall we put on normal clothes and go find something to eat?" Harry asks.

"Of course!" Elena agrees readily while inside she's wondering how much weight she can lose before Sunday. Maybe a salad of some sort, sans dressing of course. Then her tummy won't pooch out like it does right now. Dammit. Life on a farm has made her more muscular and lean, but in all the wrong places. Her legs are dynamite, but no one will see them in her evening gown. At least her arms will show some semblance of fitness. But the rest of her is lumpy.

Pulling on her jeans, she marvels at how they feel like a second skin to her when just nine months previously, she had been used to wearing professional suits and dresses at all times.

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Walking into Café Habana is always like coming home to Harry. The staff know him and indicate how much they've missed him with their hugs, leading him to his usual table. When a new busboy attempts to bring them complimentary chips and salsa, the waitstaff steers him away as Harry never wants the high calorie snack that would fill him up, leaving him unable to enjoy his meal.

Elena orders the Ensalada de Jicama with dressing on the side. Raising his eyebrows at her after the server agrees they can prepare his usual lunch, Harry asks, "Are you sure that's all you want, love? You'll get hungry later."