Page 22 of Everything About You

When I wake up, the first thing I think about is Celeste. I think about how she must be feeling, and after I arrange for flowers

to be delivered to her house, I think about the promise I made to her.

So, once again, I muster up all the motivation I have, and I get ready for another day at Maison Dauphine. This isn’t going

to be easy, but we’re preparing for the gala at the Louvre on Friday, and it might be my last chance to stand out next to

Rhodes. Currently, I am fresh out of ideas—I feel like a battery that has been completely zapped—but I’m hoping something

will come to me.

I do my best to stay positive on my walk into the office, and I replay my promise to Celeste over and over.

I’m not going to give up.

When I get to Maison Dauphine, it’s a happy surprise to find Sophie working in an office at the end of the hall by the fashion

closet. I stop in the doorway, and she looks up from her computer before smiling.

“ Bonjour , Milo.”

“ Bonjour ,” I say. I don’t think it sounds half bad. “So, this gala. It’s a big one.”

She nods. “It is. Honestly, I think the Fête à Minuit might even be more important for the house than the shows in some ways. Maybe they can’t actually be compared, but the historical significance of the Fête à Minuit is so major.”

I take a deep breath. “Do you have any tips?”

“Tips?” She smiles. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know...” I rock back on my heels. “I want to make a good impression on Yvette. If there’s anything extra I can

do to make the gala even more perfect or something? I’m not sure.”

Sophie nods. “Milo, you do know you’ve made an amazing impression on everyone?”

“Thank you,” I say. Then, deciding to just lay it out there, I shrug. “I haven’t made as good of an impression as Rhodes has.

I know that.”

“Oh, I see.” She furrows her brow. “Well, I’m not sure if I’d worry about that. Rhodes is... Rhodes. You know? You’re doing

so, so great. It’s not like it’s a competition, anyway.”

I shake my head. “But only one of us gets to work the resort show, and I really thought it’d be me. Because originally there

was only one apprentice. But somehow Rhodes became one too, and now I think he’s going to get to work the show. I mean, I

know—it’s not my place to act like he isn’t earning it, but...”

Sophie is quiet for a moment, biting her lip and glancing around. “Milo, I’m not sure Rhodes has exactly earned anything.”

“I thought the same thing,” I offer. “But he’s been doing a good job. And he does really care about Maison Dauphine. He wants

this way more than I thought.”

“I don’t know if you should compare yourself to him, though. I mean, everyone knows he got this apprenticeship because his mother made a call.”

I feel a jolt of irritation, but I do my best to quickly cast it away. He only said his father didn’t make a call, after all. I should have put two and two together. Anyway, all things considered, this isn’t exactly

surprising.

“And I’m not so sure he cares about Maison Dauphine,” Sophie continues. “He took this apprenticeship because his mom made

him. Apparently for some reason she was adamant about this over Louis Vuitton.”

That doesn’t sound like the same version of the story Rhodes told me. Though, thinking back, I don’t know if he ever went

into much detail.

“I don’t know,” I say, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. “He knows this means a lot to me, and I don’t think he’d

compete unless it meant a lot to him too. I think he really does care.”

“He might care about what his mom thinks, but I don’t know that he actually cares about Maison Dauphine or the resort show

one way or another.” Sophie frowns. “Look, just don’t be too hard on yourself over this, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I just don’t understand. He made it sound like he chose Maison Dauphine specifically.”

Sophie bites her lip and lowers her voice to a whisper. “One of the PR girls over at Louis Vuitton said Rosie Hamilton was

negotiating to void Rhodes’s contract for a couple of weeks and Rhodes had no idea. Apparently, the day they were finalizing

everything, Rhodes even sent an email asking why he had a new meeting invitation. He definitely didn’t choose Maison Dauphine.”

Then he lied? Why?

“I’m not trying to start something,” Sophie insists. “I only want you to—”

I take a step back. “Thanks, Sophie.”

“Milo—”

“It’s okay! Don’t worry. It’s good for me to have some perspective.”

And when I walk into the fashion closet, I am overcome with perspective.

Rhodes may like Maison Dauphine and fashion. He might be doing all this research and he might be putting in the hours, but

does he actually even care about this at all? How can he act like he cares about me when he’s just mercilessly competing for

something he doesn’t even really want?

And of course, now Rhodes wants to play fair and promises not to use his connections, but does that even matter? Is the damage

not already done? Can we ever play fair when the playing field has truly never been level? His mother made this happen. It

sounds like he didn’t have to apply or even interview. Did he have any qualifications?

And anyway, how do you grow up in a competitive world from a competitive family and just lack the gene that vilifies the competition?

Is that even humanly possible? In theory, he is conditioned to want to win against me at all costs, and what Sophie just told

me only reinforces that. While I know Celeste means well, I think she might be wrong about him.

I’ve seen friendships end in betrayal as quick as a ball crosses a net—who’s to say it’s not possible he’s just manipulating

me?

I stop beside Rhodes’s desk. “Why did you want this apprenticeship?”

Rhodes is scrolling on Instagram, and he looks up, dumbfounded by my question. “What?”

“I’m just curious.”

“What is going on now?”

“You said you chose this over Louis Vuitton,” I say. “And I’ve heard that isn’t true. So, I’m just trying to piece this together.

Why you’re here.”

“Oh, here we go again.” He hangs his head. “I thought we were past all this.”

I lift my shoulders. “I’m just curious what the truth is. Are you just doing this because your mom is making you? Because

it’s confusing to me why you say you need this so badly, yet it seems like it just fell into your lap.”

“Like it didn’t fall into yours?” Rhodes looks up at me. “You made an entry in response to a social media post, Milo. You

didn’t exactly cure a disease or solve one of the world’s problems to get here.”

“But I did earn it,” I say. “I put in thought. And time. And effort. My submission won out of thousands. This is an actual,

real, big thing to me, Rhodes.”

“Which explains why you cheated?”

“Yes,” I say, a tinge of desperation in my voice, pulling my chair out and taking a seat. “Yes, that is why. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I regret it so much, but I got carried away by how much this means to

me.”

Rhodes inhales sharply, setting his phone down in front of him. “What are you getting at here, Milo? Are you asking me to

just give you the resort show? Because you want it more? Because you’re not trying to prove a point at all—is that right?”

I prop my elbows up on my desk and bury my face in my hands.

The door swings open, and Yvette bursts in with garment bags draped over her arms. “Oh, boys, we have much to do before the

Fête à Minuit. Here are your tuxedos.”

She drops them onto our desks, and I stand up, grabbing the bag labeled for me and unzipping it. Inside, there is a gorgeous

black tuxedo jacket with satin lapels, along with matching pants, a white button-down, and a bow tie the color of obsidian.

“Whoa.”

Rhodes peers over at my tux and lifts a brow.

“They’re custom to the measurements you gave Haydée, so hopefully they fit.” Yvette taps her chin. “Now, listen, it is more

important than ever that you boys really work together at this gala. Stick together. I know typically you each do your own

thing, but this cannot happen, because we have to make sure the content across our platforms is cohesive and elevated. I would

suggest one of you on Instagram and one of you on TikTok, but you can decide how you’d like to divide this. Do you have any

questions about the gala? I’m sure you have gone over the binders many times by now.”

I tilt my head. “Just a thought—you said we should stick together at the gala. Might it be better if we get different angles

and content? For variety?”

Yvette gives me an odd look, like I’ve just said something inconceivable.

“I don’t believe so. We are looking for an especially unified approach across platforms for this event.

We want it to feel as polished and intentional as possible.

I want you two at each other’s side the entire night.

Attached at the hip, as you say.” She says this to me, and it makes me question if this is actually just an American saying.

“We could just share content,” I offer. “If that would be even more unified? Using the same video for Instagram that we post

on TikTok?”

Yvette sometimes does this thing where her patience is depleted, and she brings her hands together in front of her stomach

and then sighs a big, long sigh. She does this a lot with Haydée, I’ve noticed, but she’s doing it right now to me.

“Is it too much to ask you boys to collaborate on creative, innovative ways to share this content? This is all you are required

to do at the gala. If it’s too difficult...”

“No, it isn’t too difficult,” I say. “We’ll make sure the content is all creative and fresh, but polished and unified.”

Rhodes nods. “ Absolument .”

Yvette narrows her eyes and leaves the fashion closet.

“I would like us to have one event without any drama, and to be done with all the arguing and animosity. My family will be

there,” Rhodes says.

“That’s right,” I say, remembering how he breezed past them when we verified the invitations. “Ollie will be there.”

Rhodes turns back to his computer. He ignores the garment bag with his tux—probably not impressed, having worn custom designer

tuxedos his entire life—and just starts typing into our sample loan spreadsheet.

“So? Can we just get along for one night?”

My face goes warm, and I feel like a child being reprimanded. “Yes.”

“Okay, good. I really am making an effort here. I honestly don’t know what else I can say.” Rhodes sighs. “I thought we’d sorted everything out between us. Remember? May the best man win?”

I can tell my expression is less than polite by the way his eyes tighten. “I’m just wondering if the best man actually will

win.”

“You have to let this go,” Rhodes says, exasperated. “I mean honestly, don’t you find it all a bit exhausting?”

And there is the condescension. There is the “I’m actually much too important and self-assured to be nearly as impacted by

this as you are.”

“Rhodes, I am in Paris. I am here for one thing, and one thing only. To start my career.”

“Well, to be fair, I have wondered myself—why did you want this apprenticeship? Why aren’t you going for Wimbledon?”

I blink. “What?”

“Why didn’t you pursue tennis?”

“I was never going to pursue tennis,” I say. With what I’ve learned, I think he of all people should understand that loving

a sport doesn’t mean you want to make it your entire life.

“You just played for fun?”

I stare at him.

“Because you don’t seem like somebody who’d spend all that time on something just for fun, that’s all. I don’t even mean that

in a bad way.”

Something about his constantly friendly tone is so grating in these moments.

“Well, you hardly know me, to be fair,” I say.

“That isn’t entirely true. Has something changed since last night?” Rhodes huffs. “Have I done or said something I’m not aware

of? I don’t get what’s happening here.”

I sigh. “I just don’t know what to think about you, Rhodes. And if I’m being honest, it kind of makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. I want to believe all the things you say, but I feel like the moment I do, it won’t end well for me.”

“And I fully understand that, but I’m trying to tell you, I’m not some big bad enemy.” He frowns. “In any other circumstances,

I’d actually be on your team, believe it or not.”

Against my more competitive instinct, I exhale.

“Okay. No drama.”

“Who knows, we might even have fun .” Rhodes smiles.

As I’m getting ready for bed, I get a text from Celeste.

Celeste: Okay, we’re getting there next Friday since you have the gala this week

Me: Yay! I submitted a request to have that day off at MD

Who is “we”?

Me: Is Aunt Angela coming?

Celeste: Nope, just me and your mom

Me: My mom?

Me: Wait what?

She types and then stops. Types and then stops. Finally:

Celeste: Shit. I think it was supposed to be a surprise. It’s all making more sense now

Me: My mom is coming to Paris?

Celeste: You have to pretend to be surprised!

I can’t believe this. No wonder my mom hasn’t been reaching out very much—she’s probably worried she’ll spoil the surprise.

I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I’m humming as I get ready for bed.

My mom is coming to visit me in Paris, I feel pretty good about how things are with Rhodes at the moment, and I get to experience

the Fête à Minuit gala.

Everything is finally looking up.