The Difference Between Getting and Needing

f i f t e e n

we said we'd both love harder
than we knew we could go,
but still the hardest part
is knowing when to let g o . . .

〰️〰️〰️

The annual "DiNardo Designs End-of-Year Holiday Gala" had crept up on me. It was probably the one work-related event that I actually looked forward to – a lavish night in the city full of drinking, eating, dancing, and celebrating all that we had accomplished over the past year.

In layman's terms, it was our work Christmas party, but Donatella was always one to make anything sound fancier than it really was.

If you were in any way involved with Donatella, you were invited. More so, you were obligated to go because if you didn't, you'd face her Italian fury. That wasn't something I'd wish upon even my worst enemy, so unless you had a serious prior engagement or emergency, you were going.

The upcoming party would be my fourth in attendance, so I knew what to expect. Everyone brought a date, dressed their best (if that was in one of Donatella's own designs, even better), and we reveled until dawn. It was like a much more fun, leisurely version of a Saturday morning meeting, but on a Saturday night in a high-class hotel ballroom rented out just for us.

After the chaotic weekend that was Thanksgiving, the gala was only a mere three days away once the middle of the week had arrived. I knew what to expect and yet I felt extremely unprepared for it.

If I wasn't doing some sort of celebrating for my sister's wedding, it was something else ridiculous. My sanity and my bank account were severely suffering anymore, hence the reason why I had nothing to wear to the Christmas party.

At five minutes to four o'clock on Wednesday, that changed.

Nadia and I were packing up for the day, getting ready to leave the studio in our own ways. Myself carelessly throwing things in my tote bag and cursing under my breath, while Nadia was dainty with every motion she made and softly hummed to herself.

"You better figure out what you're going to wear for Saturday night," she suddenly spoke up, teasing me about the demon hanging over my head all week.

"At this rate, a fucking trash bag," I muttered.

After I shut down my computer and picked up the cup of pens I'd knocked over, I noticed she was standing in front of my desk. She was smiling down at me in a sympathetic sort of way, her green eyes assessing me.

"You just make sure that boyfriend of yours is on his best behavior or I might have to take matters into my own hands," she said. "We can't have the two of you going at each other's throats again. I know you're pretty good at acting like everything is okay, but I've been there. I can see right through that bullshit."

I felt myself sighing at the choppy flashbacks of last year's party that arose from her words.

Gus and I were irrationally drunk and fighting over something I couldn't even remember for the life of me. All I knew was that Nadia and her boyfriend were in between us for the second half of the night, trying to simultaneously keep us apart and out of Donatella's sight. If she knew that we were arguing in the middle of one of her largest and classiest events of the year, I'd definitely be out of a job. And if she really wanted, she'd have Gus fired too.

"I know," I breathed, standing up now so I was the one looking down at her. "We've actually been in a really good place recently. Haven't been fighting as much and things seem... okay."

That made her raise her eyebrows in surprise. "Well, that's nice to hear."

"And also slightly terrifying because when things are good with us, I know what comes next. I just don't know when," I said, my voice dipping on the last word as my eyes fell to the floor.