Page 6

“Fashion Week is more about exposure, and you, my dear, bring the paparazzi wherever you go. There’s a huge buildup to the main event, so plan on being available to attend an assortment of fittings and photo shoots.”
On the outside, I muster a bright smile. On the inside, I grimace.Yay me, social events.“Fabulous. Where do I sign?”
My mask is convincing enough to secure the contract and hopefully open doors to a desperately needed future.
Paulo and I exchange numbers before other commitments whisk him away. Then, Felicity and I review the financial details, my attention shifting to practicalities. I’m back in the game, focusing on providing stability for myself and my child.
“The pay is standard. Fifty-five hundred per day, all expenses covered. You’ll get a guaranteed four hundred grand for walking the runway during Fashion Week. There’s also the possibility of extending your contract or securing another designer.”
I calculate everything in my head. The earnings are enough for a nice down payment on a place. Plus, I still receive royalties from my magazine covers. Hope flutters, mingling with the weight of responsibility. Life in both LA and New York is costly. I’ll need to cover Ricky’s expenses, even though he tells me notto worry about it, plus my grandmother’s nursing home, which is an absolute necessity.
“What’s wrong? We can negotiate,” Felicity interrupts my anxious thoughts.
I recline in her plush office chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “I’m not disappointed with the pay. That’s not the issue. I need to maintain it, and I’m willing to move from LA if necessary.”
The more I consider it, the more excited I am to leave my past behind. I can fly to visit Grams. It wasn’t what I wanted, but fuck, neither is this heartache.
On the West Coast, Jackson O’Reilly will haunt me.
“Don’t make any hasty decisions while you’re hurt and emotional. We’ll talk more about future projects as they become available. What’s the next step with your infamous ex?”
“What are my choices? It’s over.”
“We can issue a public statement asking everyone to respect your privacy, blah, blah, blah.Or…” She emphasizes the word with a raise of her perfectly manicured brows. “You can take proactive measures to manage the situation, appearing together?—”
“That’s not happening.” I immediately reject the idea, shaking my head emphatically. “I never want to see Jackson again.”
“Then we ignore it and move on.”Felicity shrugs, hands up in a gesture of nonchalance.
As if moving on is a quick fix.
As if Jackson didn’t just shred my heart and stomp on it for the world to witness.
Burying the pain, I adopt her attitude. “It’s not worth the effort of making a statement. I’m focused on my career right now, and that’s all.”
I don’t care how much it hurts. I’ll paint on a fake smile until everyone believes I’ve moved on from Jackson O’Reilly.
Including me.
4
ETHAN
From my office window,I watch the Zamboni smooth the ice after practice, my mind restless and my concentration absolute shit. Spinning a pen between my fingers, I contemplate the last few days. The guys played their hearts out in a brutal game, only losing to Vegas by one.
For the millionth time, I question whether benching Jackson was the correct decision. Even hungover, he would’ve scored and we would’ve won, putting us closer to playoffs.
My commitment to win wars with my emotions toward Jax.
I toss the pen onto the desk, rest my head against the leather chair, and close my eyes. I refuse to enable Jackson. The previous staff pumped him full of drugs to get him through the game, only for him to repeat the cycle by getting shitfaced after.
I can put an end to his abuse. It’s what I came here for, and it’s the right thing to do.
Regret creeps in, and I drop my face into my hands. I promised Aurora I would care for Jax. I failed her, and I failed him. If only I had realized he was on a quick path to self-destruction. I just never believed he’d relapse, never thought he’d jeopardize Aurora.
I grind my palms into my eyes, the images of Jackson’s drunken night replaying on repeat—images that have torn our trio apart.
He didn’t just relapse; he destroyed everything.