Whispers of Fate

xxi

I loved my life. Moving to New York was the best decision I had ever made.

Things had been going perfectly. Having moved at the very beginning of Summer, I'd spent most of my time working with various designers to produce the debut Autumn collection that would be demonstrated at the end of August. I worked tirelessly, completely absorbed in my career and determined to make a good impression on the fashion industry.

All my hours of overtime and sleepless nights paid off when the fashion show finally went forward and it received a standing ovation as the finale piece, the original dress I'd designed with red tulle and green sleeves, was revealed. It had been designed as a two-piece, with the model tearing off the black cotton bodice to reveal the most scandalous lingerie attached to a dangerous red tulle skirt. The message was clear as day: Grace Parker was not here to please anyone but herself. The best part? The people loved it.

A few months had passed since that glorious moment and things just kept getting better. We had started working on the spring collection and were due to unveil it two days before Christmas. My part had been done so I was able to relax and enjoy two weeks off, experiencing my first ever New York winter.

I was still lonely. Despite the various people I'd met whilst working I had been incredibly busy, unable to really let loose and socialise the necessary way to form proper friendships. I called Lucy and Jade every other day, often whilst I was cooking or cleaning, and listened to them update me on their lives. Both of them were now in happy relationships, Lucy insisting that I needed to meet her boyfriend (and possible fiancé soon) Beau and Jade going official with Lotta. I hadn't spoken to either of them in a while though, our timings never quite right and all of us busy with our very separate lives. I was overwhelmed with the amount of matching Christmas pyjamas pictures I'd received. My favourite was Rose and Delilah sat under their Christmas tree with their puppy Bella. They were both beaming and I couldn't get over the uncanny resemblance Delilah had to Rose. She was like her miniature.

I missed my sister so much that I'd actually printed the photo off and stuck it in a picture frame. It was now on my mantel piece in pride of place above my electric fire, the first thing I saw when I walked into the room. It was little over a week and half until Christmas and as much as I wanted to fly home for the holidays I knew it would be impossible with the fashion show so soon. It wasn't worth it. I'd spend New Year there instead.

There was one person in particular I'd been missing. Whilst I was living in Manhattan I'd tried multiple times to move on and, whilst I was never directly searching for anyone, I had been out with a good few men. The problem was I could never get over the feeling that I was, well, cheating. It was ridiculous; I hadn't really spoken to Teo since I'd left. We were back to the usual awkward birthday message but nothing beyond that. So why did I always feel so bad when I was with anyone else?

I'd taken to baking when I felt alone. It gave me something to focus on and raised my popularity in the workplace as everyone loved baked goods. Due to the excessive amount of pastries I'd been consuming, as a result I was also going to the gym basically every day. My schedule was warped and many nights I didn't come home until gone 10 pm so I would hit the gym when no one else was around. It was calming, in a way, but it certainly didn't help my feelings of total isolation.

Now I was rolling out the batter for cinnamon swirls, a long-time favourite of mine. I'd lit my cinnamon candle to set the mood and was deep in the process of mixing the filling when there was a banging at my door. I washed my hands quickly and wiped them on my light pink apron before waddling towards the door.

I peered through the peep hole but saw no one. Frowning, I unhooked the chain and unlocked the door. As soon as it was open a person jumped in front of me and I dropped to my knees in surprise, screaming. That had always been my first reflex when caught off-guard: drop to the ground. Clearly I was bred to die in the wild.