Rebirth: Love me Again-Chapter 313: A Very Close Friendship

[EVE]

Fern, who had been ignored up until this point, let out a dramatic sigh. "Yes, yes, I am the noble delivery man. Please, someone take these before my arms fall off."

Georgina snorted before stepping in to help, directing the team to set up the food.

Meanwhile, Dean strolled over to me, standing just a little too close, as if we have known each other for so long.

"You don't have to lift a finger, Eve," he said smoothly, beaming at me. "Just sit back, relax, and let me take care of everything."

I raised a brow at him, crossing my arms. "You are going to take care of everything?"

Dean placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "What? You don't think I'm capable?"

Hyun snickered from the side. "Not to be rude, Dean, but do you even know how to sew?"

Dean turned to him, completely unfazed. "Nope."

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The room went silent for a second.

Then Fern coughed. "At least he's honest."

Dean flashed his signature grin. "See? I am helpful—I just delegate. So, I'll make sure everyone is well-fed and well-rested while you guys do all the hard work except Eve over there. Oh, and I also flew dozens of seamstress in here to help you. You're welcome."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "How very generous of you, Mr. Model."

Dean winked. "I try."

As ridiculous as he was, I had to admit—the mood in the studio felt lighter with him around. And as everyone gathered to eat, I realized that, for the first time in days, the stress that had been weighing down on me didn't feel so heavy anymore.

At least for now.

Within minutes, more people walked into the studio—the Frizkiel's staff seamstresses, flown in all the way from his country.

The reason?

According to Dean, they were available, highly skilled, and most importantly—they didn't know anyone here and didn't speak English. That meant a lower risk of leaks about the designs, ensuring that no industry spies got a whiff of what we were working on.

Honestly, I had to admit—it was smart.

And, like I expected, the entire day turned into pure chaos.

There were fabrics flying, needles threading, mannequins being dressed and redressed at lightning speed. The designers were making adjustments, Georgina was barking orders, and Hyun was so deep in his work that he barely looked up the entire time.

I had tried—really tried—to help, but Dean had other plans.

"Eve, sit down. Just delegate and relax," he insisted, practically hovering over me.

"I can work, Dean." I huffed, crossing my arms. "Not working is more stressful, especially when I know I could be saving time. And seriously, why are you so over—over-caring anyway?"

Dean only smiled, then, without warning, took my hand.

I blinked.

His grip was warm, firm, and just a little too natural, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

"To be honest?" he mused, looking straight into my eyes. "I don't know myself. I just feel it in my heart that you're very special."

Fern let out the loudest, most obnoxious throat-clearing sound known to mankind.

Dean ignored him.

Fern tried again. This time, he added a dramatic sigh and an exaggerated shake of his head.

Still, Dean didn't even spare him a glance.

With an expression that screamed I'm so done with this, Fern finally gave up and spoke. "I hope you feel that way about your work, too. Because, in case you forgot, we still have a ton of meetings with endorsers and company execs today. You know, part of the actual reason we're here?"

Dean finally looked over. And then, in the most dismissive way possible, he waved a few lazy fingers in the air. "Just cancel everything. I don't want to be disturbed."

"You'll lose a lot of money," Fern deadpanned.

Dean arched a brow. "Do I look like I need money to you?"

Fern squinted at him. "No. But your employees need money. And I need a raise."

Dean sighed dramatically, as if the very idea of money bored him. "Fine, fine. I raise your salaries. Just don't bother me." He waved his hand again, this time like he was shooing away a fly.

Before he even finished his sentence, Fern had his phone out and was already dialing. "Hello? Yeah. Sorry, Dean can't make it. He's—cough, cough—yeah, he's feeling terrible. New York is so hot right now, you know? Just awful. Heatstroke, maybe. Fever. Tragic, really."

Then, just like that, Fern walked off, continuing his very professional excuse, and completely left us alone.

I turned back to Dean, shaking my head. "Is that really okay? Forget the money—won't your reputation take a hit?"

Instead of looking worried, Dean's entire face lit up.

"Wait . . . Are you worried about me, Eve?"

I sighed. "Well, yeah. You've done so much for us that you're practically a friend now."

Dean's eyes sparkled. And then, before I could react, he grabbed my hands again.

I froze.

His grip was even warmer this time, his smile stretched wide across his face like I had just handed him the greatest treasure on Earth.

"Friend?" he echoed, as if testing the word. Then his grin widened. "I like the sound of that. From now on, we're very, very close friends."

"Ah … right…"

Dean was too close.

I should have felt uncomfortable. Maybe even creeped out.

But instead—

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

The way he reacted, like he had just won the grand prize in some impossible competition, was so ridiculous that I actually found it endearing.

Like being my friend was the greatest joy of his entire life.

I sighed again, this time with amusement. "Sure, Dean. Very close friends."

Dean beamed. "Exactly. And as your very close friend, I forbid you from working today. Go sit. Relax. I'll handle everything."

"You? Handle everything?" I raised a brow. "You just admitted you can't sew."

Dean shrugged. "I can't. But I can look good while other people sew. It's called delegation, sweetheart. Ever heard of it?"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

This man was something else.

And I had a feeling I was only beginning to understand just how much.