“Yes. But I’ll feel better when I’ve actually sold a few things.”
We left the boutique’s window and crossed the street, joining the line that snaked out the door of our favorite ice cream place. I breathed in the scent of homemade waffle cones wafting out the door and smiled. “How’s that going?” Alex asked. “Any progress?”
I shrugged, wishing I had more to report. I’d been working retail at a design shop a few blocks away, designing in the evenings and on the weekends. But the progress was slow going. Even working full time, I wasn’t making much, and I’d insisted Isaac start charging me rent as soon as I’d gotten a job.
I’d made several contacts with stores around town that were willing to sell my stuff on consignment but making enough pieces to sell took more cash flow, and time, than I had. I was slowly building my savings, but I was still months away from having enough to create the kind of collection a store would be interested in selling. It’s not like I could go to a boutique and ask them to sell a single dress. I mean, I could, but that wouldn’t do anything to build my brand. Volume was important. Impact was important. To make matters even more complicated, fashion was constantly changing. It wasn’t like I could take three years to design one collection—not if I wanted to stay on-trend.
“Nothing new to report,” I said. “Except I did finally take my design portfolio over to the bridal boutique on Church Street. She seemed pretty positive and said if I could make her a few samples to have on hand, she’d keep me in mind for brides looking for custom dresses. Oh! And Darius said his sister should have some logos for me to look at by the end of next week. So I guess that’s progress.”
It might have helped my cause if I’d been able to show the boutique owner the glowing praise Sasha’s wedding dress had gotten within the fashion industry. Everyone had loved it; similar designs and copies were already showing up in stores. I’d held onto my sketches and had assembled a careful file detailing my design and construction of the dress. Someday, the timing would be right for me to expose what Sasha had done to me. When that time came, I’d be ready.
Alex grinned then leaned forward and kissed me quickly on the lips. “It makes me happy to see you so happy.”
My own smile dimmed. “That got us in trouble before.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “What got us in trouble?”
“When we were in New York. You were happy because I was happy doing all the fashion things, the parties, the shows. But they didn’t make you happy. I don’t want to do that again.”
Alex touched my back, urging me forward in the line. “But we aren’t doing that again. We’re getting ice cream in Charleston, talking about your plans to start your own brand. It’s entirely different.”
“I know. I just—I want you to be happy too, Alex. I want you to love where you live and love what you do and love the things we do together. I made it all about me for too long. That can’t be how this works anymore.”
Our conversation paused long enough for us to order our ice cream then move back onto the street. “I do love what I do,” Alex said. “I’ve been talking to Isaac about opening myself up to additional clients. He doesn’t need me as much anymore, so I have more time on my hands. I think I’d stay in the same industry. Entertainers, internet personalities. I’ve gained a lot of knowledge navigating Isaac’s world; I think it could be useful to others who suddenly find themselves in the same situation. And of course I love where I live.” He paused and took a bite of his ice cream. “It didn’t snow one single time this year. What isn’t to like?”
“Hurricanes,” I said. “And palmetto bugs. And August. And—”
“A small price to pay,” he said. “I’ll take giant cockroaches and hot summers over icy winters any day.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Maybe I didn’t really love the fashion scene in New York, Dani. But I don’t have any regrets about doing things that were important to you. I’d do it all again tomorrow if that’s what you wanted. I likely will do it all again if your career takes off like I think it will. Is it so wrong that I want the woman I love to be happy?”
I’d heard Alex tell me he loved me hundreds of times before. He’d told me at least once a day for the past six months. Still, the novelty of hearing it again hadn’t worn off. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that.”
“What, that I love you?”
I stopped him on the sidewalk and leaned up to kiss him. His lips tasted like salted peanut butter and chocolate. “Yes, that you love me. Don’t ever stop, okay?”
A phone buzzed and we both moved to see if it was mine or his. “It’s mine,” he said. He looked at his phone, then looked to me. “It’s the attorney.”
I stilled. The attorney was the attorney who had filed an anonymous whistleblower complaint against LeFranc with the IRS on our behalf.
Alex stared at his phone but made no move to answer it. “Alex, answer it,” I urged, startling him out of his stupor.
He gave his head a little shake and swiped across the screen to answer the call.
I listened to Alex’s half of the conversation, wishing we were in a place private enough for him to put the call on speaker.
“Right,” Alex said. “I do understand. No, that is . . . we didn’t expect it at all, but that’s, that’s amazing news.”
My pulse quickened. What was amazing news?
Alex hung up the phone and turned to face me, his eyes wide with excitement. “You’re never going to believe it.”
“What? Believe what?”
He looked around the busy street. “You need to be sitting down. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and led me down Broad Street and into Washington Square where we found a bench shaded by a sprawling live oak tree.
“Alex, what is going on? What did the attorney say?”
He took a deep breath and I noticed his hands were shaking. “LeFranc was found guilty of tax evasion. Over the past several years, they’ve hidden almost 50 million dollars from the government.”
“Wow. So the twelve million we found in Sasha’s accounts was only part of it.”
“Right. That’s a lot of back taxes and fees they owe the IRS.”
Realization dawned and I swallowed, my hands suddenly trembling to match Alex’s. We hadn’t filed a whistleblower complaint against LeFranc for our own gain. We’d done it because it was the right thing to do; because the company had been defrauding its employees, its investors, its customers for too long. But we’d always known it was a possibility; that the IRS often awarded whistleblowers a percentage of the back taxes and fees owed as a result of the filed complaint.
I took a slow, deep breath. “How much?”
Alex started to laugh. “3.3 million dollars.”
I closed my eyes. Then opened them. Then closed them and pressed my palms to my face. Beside me, Alex still laughed. “I think it’s time you quit your job, Dani. You’ve got a design brand to launch, and now you’ve got the capital to do it.”
Tears filled my eyes and I leaned forward, pressing kisses to Alex’s lips and cheeks and ears and eyebrows. “Hey, Alex?” I said between kisses.