The Moment

THE MOMENT RAE STONE Copyright © 2023 Rae Stone All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below: [email protected] ISBN: 978 1 922623 23 2 (Paperback) Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. Cover design: The Hatters Editing: Hundred Proof Services Proofreading: Lindsi Labar Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd PO Box 407, Woy Woy, NSW, 2256 Australia CONTENTS Connect with Rae1. Aria2. Rex3. Aria4. Rex5. Aria6. Rex7. Aria8. Rex9. Aria10. Rex11. AriaChapter 1213. Rex14. Aria15. Rex16. Rex17. Rex18. Aria19. Rex20. Cedar21. Cedar22. Aria23. Rex24. Aria25. Rex26. Aurora27. Aria28. Rex29. Aria30. Rex31. Aria32. Rex33. Aria34. RexChapter 3536. Aria37. Rex38. Aria39. Rex40. Aria41. Aria42. Rex43. Rex44. Aria45. Aria—Six months laterEpilogueAcknowledgmentsAbout the Author CONNECT WITH RAE Find me on Insta @raestone_ Check me out on Facebook @AuthorRaeStone Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do. -Voltaire 1ARIA “How would I even start such a thing?” I’m exasperated, pushing hangers to the side of the rack like they’re the last thing I need. Cuz they are. “I don’t know!” My sister shout-giggles over the rack to me as she pushes the same clothes to the side, discarding the piles that normally bring us treasures. I shake my head and spin to the final rack behind me. We’ve been through the entire store, aside from this one lone display that isn’t really a display of anything, and I’ve still come up empty-handed. “Maybe post online for some pieces to sell? Start small?” Aurora joins me in my quest to sift through the last section and starts separating the articles of clothing for me. She holds pieces out for me, only to receive a scrunched nose or a shake of the head in rejection for each one. I’m on the hunt, preparing to make out with the perfect denim pattern to go with the upcycled outfit concept I have in my head but I’m missing a vital piece. Except I don’t know what that piece is. And I don’t know what the rest of the outfit looks like. Or what kind of dress code it falls under. It’s just there, sitting vague in the back of my mind, waiting for the perfect inspirational moment of clarity. Damn muse and her sudden silence. “Right … Like I need more time on socials, computers, and shit.” Blowing a tuft of hair out of my rolling eyes that’s fallen from my short pony, I flick more items to the side with a huff. See, I’m a social media manager for a local tech company that gets all of its traction online. I enjoy it, I guess, but it’s nothing like altering a dress to fit my frame or adding the right-sized pockets to … well … everything. Why can’t girls have pockets, too? The final set of hangers remain. I can see each item and know it’s not the thing I’m in search of, but I still touch each article in hopes that the feel will encourage and inspire. None of them match the blurry vision in my head, but maybe if I touch them, they’ll turn out to be the one? I’m grasping now, considering this search has been going on for days, but a girl can dream, right? “I’m just saying, Ari. You need more.” A heavy sigh escapes me as I turn to give my sister my full attention. My junior by only two years, this woman in front of me had the guts to pursue her passion from the moment she got her hands on it. A full-time photographer since straight out of high school, my baby sister has accomplished the one thing I wished I could one day do. Live my dream. I could’ve, but I didn’t. I made other choices that lead me here, constantly pushing my passion to the side for more money, better hours, an easier life. Instead, it hides in the darkness of my sensible apartment where I can keep it to myself. Designing and altering clothes for me to wear that actually fit right, are comfortable, functional, and look fantastic is just a pastime for me. Maybe a thing or two for my sisters as gifts, though I’ve yet to see them wear any of them. Apparently, I’m good at it for me, but not as great at it for others. This is precisely why it’s been filling up my closet and not walking down any runways. Taking in the sight of her, I pull her against my chest for a quick squeeze. I’m not sure that her words require a response, so I leave it alone. For once, when I pull back to look at her pretty face and smiling eyes, I don’t see the same disappointment there that I normally catch in her set of gorgeous green irises that match mine. I see something else. Something that leaves me feeling uneasy about what my sister is about to do. Or has done. Oh, no. She snickers when my face drops, which earns her a shoulder punch and gains me a look of hurt flashing across her high cheekbones and long lashes. “We have a surprise.” We … I roll my eyes knowing that she means my best friend is engaged in this shenanigan, because there is no one else that would join her craziness, and I’m filling with dread the longer the seconds tick by. “It’s something different and I can’t wait to tell you about it.” “Oh, no.” I already regret the decisions they’ve made before they’ve even made them as my sister