That Summer In Italy (18+)

Chapter 12: Gennaro

*Selli*

We were finally hitting a groove. The hand fans helped, and even though the seamstresses said they were fine, they seemed pleased with them too. Giulietta smiled at me and thanked me for my 'actions'. 

The language barrier made it difficult to communicate but I could tell what she meant by her gestures. I smiled back at her warmly.

Marco worked next to me in silence as we worked on pleats for a skirt that would be used for Look #2, #4, and #8. I measured and cut the fabric before handing it to him to stitch, using his deft fingers to run the fabric along the machine. Even Polly didn't complain as much.

I glanced over at her. She preferred working in the corner which she insisted was the coolest part of the whole room. I watched as she used her famous foil technique to create metallic touches for some of the corsets we were creating, carefully laying out some gold foil onto the garment with a pair of tweezers before using a hot press to steam it and lock in the ornate logo design that was Gennaro's signature print in the early 90s.

Things were actually going well. And Gennaro would be arriving soon.

I couldn't wait to show him what we had made so far.

My group chat with Sloane, Joan, and Tessa pinged. They had been asking me to send them photos of Italy for the past two weeks. I looked around and smiled wryly to myself. 

If only they could see where I was now. Sweating in an abandoned warehouse like I was on a Project Runway slash Survivor reality TV show.

I looked through my photo albums and selected the best picture Dante took of me, Polly, and Marco the first night at the restaurant, our smiles a little tentative but still hopeful that this would all work out, his silhouette in the gold mirror on the wall, face partially covered by shadows and the camera's blinding flash.

I sent it to the girls and smiled inwardly. I could already picture Sloane behind her desk zooming into those dessert shots on the table. She was a huge foodie.

I went back to work. Measuring, pinning, and sowing, getting into a nice rhythm when I was in the zone. Getting into a flow state at work always made me lose track of time.

Ping.

My phone shook on the table. 

And then it pinged again.

And again.

I stopped stitching a scalloped sleeve I was working on to see what was going on. They had all replied to the picture in quick succession.

Joan: OMG Sel!

Tessa: ???

Sloane: That tiramisu looks fantastic.

Joan: !!!

Joan: Forget dessert. Look at that man in the mirror. Who is HE?

Her text was accompanied with several fire and panting emojis.

I chuckled before responding.

Selli: That's Dante. He's managing the project for Gennaro

Sloane: He's the project manager?

Selli: He's sort of our project manager slash babysitter. He makes sure we are fed and well hydrated.

Selli: The heat here is insane, you guys. I miss all of you a lot.

Joan: He can manage me anytime.

Joan: Wait, actually no I can't be managed. But he's hot as fuck.