"Important race tickets. Very exclusive. Very fast cars. Very loud engines." Dom waved the envelope. "Jason will be offended if no one comes. And if Jason is offended, he will text me repeatedly, spamming with emojis. Specifically angry emojis."

One of the clients looked up. "I like racing."

Dom brightened. "You do? Here!" He thrust an envelope toward the man. "Take some. Please. I have too many."

The client took a ticket, examined it, and nodded. "Thank you."

"Thank you for relieving me of my burden."

Leo sighed. "Dom."

"Yes?"

"Leave."

"Leaving! Yes! Leaving now!" Dom said. He gave Leo tickets too and backed toward the door. "Great meeting you all! Enjoy the race! Wear earplugs! It’s very loud! I learned that the hard way!"

He stumbled over the threshold, caught himself, and disappeared into the hallway. The door swung shut behind him.

Leo stared at the closed door for a long moment. Then he turned back to his clients. "Where were we?"

The client who had taken the ticket was still looking at it. "Your brother-in-law is very enthusiastic."

Leo’s eye twitched. "He’s not my..." He stopped. "He’s just enthusiastic."

The client nodded and tucked the ticket into his pocket. The meeting continued.

In the hallway, Dom leaned against the wall, his heart pounding. "Brother-in-law," he whispered to himself. "I called him brother-in-law. In front of clients." He closed his eyes and groaned. Then he pushed off the wall, adjusted his jacket, and walked toward the elevator, muttering under his breath about race tickets and his own runaway mouth.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Meanwhile, Bella was in the middle of her dance practice when she decided she needed a break. Her body was sore, her feet were aching, and her mind was spinning with choreography she still hadn’t perfected. She collapsed onto the couch, grabbed her phone, and started scrolling.

Dresses. Shoes. Accessories.

She needed something for the performance. Something that would make her stand out.

She scrolled through page after page of online stores, but nothing caught her eye. The dresses were either too flashy or too plain, too revealing or too modest, too expensive or too cheap. None of them felt right.

She had a dress in mind. A specific design. But she didn’t know how to design a dress. She didn’t know how to sketch patterns or choose materials or explain her vision to someone who could make it real.

She stared at her phone, frustrated. Then she opened her contacts, and her eyes landed on a name.

Miss J

Bella hesitated. She had called Miss J before, for advice, for comfort. But this was different. This was asking for a favor. A big favor.

She stared at the number for a long moment, then pressed dial. The phone rang once. Twice.

"Hello, sweet girl." Miss J’s voice was warm, smooth, beautiful, like honey poured over morning sunlight.

Bella’s heart lifted. "Hello, Miss J. It’s Bella."

Miss J laughed softly. "I know, sweet girl. I have caller ID. You called me?"

Bella’s cheeks flushed. "Oh. Yeah. Right. I mean, yes. I called you. Because I need... I mean, I was wondering... you’re good at painting, so maybe you’re good at designing clothes too? I know painting and designing don’t have any connection at all, but I thought—" She stopped, embarrassed. "This is silly. Never mind."

Miss J’s voice was gentle. "It’s not silly. And actually, there is a connection. Both require an eye for color, shape, movement. Both require creativity and vision." She paused. "I know designing. I can help you."

Bella’s eyes widened. "You can?"

Miss J laughed again. "Back in college, to earn some money, I used to be an assistant to a designer. It was a small boutique, nothing fancy, but I learned a lot. How to sketch patterns, how to choose fabrics, how to bring a vision to life. It was hard work, long hours, demanding clients, endless revisions, but I loved it."

Bella listened, captivated.

"One time," Miss J continued, "the designer was sick, and I had to present a collection to a major client by myself. I was terrified. My hands were shaking. I almost dropped the sketches twice."

Bella leaned forward. "What happened?"

"The client loved the collection. Bought everything. The designer was furious and proud at the same time." Miss J chuckled. "After that, she trusted me with more responsibilities. I wasn’t just an assistant anymore. I was a partner."

"Did you ever design your own clothes?"

"Once. For a charity gala. I made a gown from scratch, deep blue velvet, silver embroidery, a train that swept the floor. I felt like a princess."

Bella’s heart ached with longing. "That sounds beautiful."

"It was. But the best part wasn’t the dress. It was the feeling of wearing something I had created with my own hands."

Bella clutched the phone tighter. "Miss J, can you help me design a dress for my dance performance?"

"Of course, sweet girl. Tell me what you’re imagining."

Bella closed her eyes and described the dress in her head.

Miss J listened without interrupting.

When Bella finished, there was a moment of silence.

"That’s beautiful," Miss J said softly. "I can see it perfectly."

"Can you make it?"

"I can help you make it. Together."

Bella’s eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet. We have work to do. I’ll send you some fabric samples. You’ll need to come to my studio for measurements. And we’ll need the music, the song you’re dancing to, to make sure the dress moves the way you want."

Bella smiled. "You think about everything."

"Experience, sweet girl. Experience."

"I’ll do whatever you say."

"Good. Now rest. You sound tired."

"I am tired."

"Then rest. We’ll start tomorrow."

"Okay."

The call ended.

Bella stared at her phone, a wide grin spreading across her face. She clutched the device to her chest and flopped back onto the couch, kicking her feet in the air like a little girl.

"Oh my god," she whispered to the ceiling. "I’m going to see Miss J again. I’m going to design a dress with Miss J. I’m going to—" She stopped, her heart swelling so much it almost hurt.

She didn’t understand it. Why did she like Miss J so much? The woman was older, elegant, mysterious. She painted beautiful things but Bella didn’t know Miss J very well personally. They had only had a few meetings and conversations.

But every time they talked, every time Miss J called her "sweet girl" every time she laughed that warm, honeyed laugh, Bella felt something inside her heart. She felt her heart heal every time she heard Miss J’s voice.