Josh clears his throat, stretching out his legs. “So,” he says, nudging me with his socked foot. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
I force my eyes back open. “Mm?”
“Tell us more about this invitation from Anna.”
I smile, sinking back against Luke as he takes a bite of cake. “She offered to fly me out to New York in a couple of weeks, so she can see my stuff in person. If it works out, I could form a collaboration with her. Stay in New York, get my stuff put in her shops and featured in her fashion week shows.”
Zack freezes midway through picking up a strawberry. “New York, lass?”
I nod. “Fashion capital of the world. It’s where everything happens.”
“Will you have to design something new for her?” Josh asks slowly.
“I submitted my Butterfly design. I’ll have to make some changes to incorporate it into her style, though.”
Zack immediately looks outraged. “No! You can’t let her take credit for it, it’s yours!”
“I’d get credit,” I say patiently. “It’s a collaboration. Plus I’d get a massive influx of attention and money to pour into the product.”
“But she’d make money off you,” he complains.
I sigh. “Josh, tell Zack how marketing works.”
Josh shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “How long would you stay in New York? Weeks? Months?”
I shrug. “Hopefully, while I’m out there, I’d be able to set my own roots. Actually start up a brick-and-mortar store.”
“What does that mean for you?” Luke says slowly. “You’d move to America? Forever?”
I nod. There are a few seconds of silence. The men exchange looks. I frown. I was hoping for slightly more excitement.
“Do you want to live in America?” Josh asks eventually.
“It’s the logical next step for my career. I’d be mad to turn it down.”
“Yeah, but do you want to live in America?” Josh presses. “Not just work there, but live there, full time?”
“I guess. I never really thought about it. My main focus is the business.”
No one says anything for a few seconds. Then Zack tugs at Emily’s ring, frustration all over his face. “Flippin’ stupid idea,” he mutters.
I sputter. “Excuse me?”
He meets my gaze levelly. “You heard me. It’s a stupid idea.”
FORTY-EIGHT
LAYLA
“Hang on.” My voice rises. “Do you guys think I shouldn’t go? Why?!”
There’s a brief pause. Josh sets his plate aside. “I think that you’re so driven by your work, that you don’t consider what makes you happy,” he says diplomatically. “By anyone’s standards, you’re already incredibly successful. There’s no need to relocate.”
“But I could be more successful,” I argue.
Zack throws his hands up. “Of course you could!” He says, exasperated. “Even if you were the biggest brand in the world, you could still be more successful.” He shakes his head. “Where does it end? You want your stuff being made by strangers in big factories? You wanna be buying cheap materials and underpaying people to get to the top?”
I’m offended. “No! I would never—”
“You’d never what? Prioritise your job over people? Then why do you want to uphaul your whole life to make some more money, when you’re doing just fine here? You haven’t got anyone or anything in America!”
I’m shocked. Zack is usually so laid-back. I don’t think we’ve ever properly argued before. “So?” I demand. “What do I have in London?”
“Us,” he says simply. “You’ve got a home. A gorgeous flat. A great production team. Smoking-hot neighbors.”
I narrow my eyes. “So you think I should stay just because you want me to. Nice, Zack.”
Zack sighs. “L, I know you. You don’t like meetin’ new people. If you move to America, you ain’t joining clubs or going to parties. I don’t like the thought of you holed up in some tiny flat in New York, working yourself to death. No friends, no family, just… ignoring everything good in your life.”
I can suddenly see it so clearly: me working my thirties away, too shy to make new friends, too lost in my work to talk to people. I’d slowly lose touch with the guys until we never spoke at all. I can picture myself in a few years’ time, hunched over my desk at three in the morning, listening to the guys’ voices from all the way across the ocean as they talk about some new girl they’re seeing.