Page 45 of Everything About You

I sleep through the night now.

Mostly because Maison Dauphine has become its own waking nightmare for me for the last two days. There’s an inescapable pain

that goes along with seeing Rhodes every day, and there’s a numbness in doing the requests and small tasks when I have already

secured a spot working the resort show. Without a true goal or something to make progress toward, the fire is starting to

dim.

On Thursday, when Noel and Celeste get back from Champagne, they are like two absolutely over-the-moon lovebirds. If I weren’t

lovesick myself, I’d probably find it to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. After all, they’re basically two of my favorite

people, and seeing them that happy is great.

But every time they do something cute, it’s like this upset to my central nervous system. I don’t know how my heart latched

on to Rhodes so quickly, because it doesn’t make logical sense, but I find myself practically mourning the way we won’t do

the little things they do. We won’t look at each other the way they do. Won’t burst into giggles when we say the same thing

at the same time because we’ve just become that in-sync.

I don’t tell them what’s happened, of course. I can’t bring myself to be a dark cloud over their perfect French holiday. Especially with Celeste looking so happy after everything with her grandmother. I’d feel horrible taking even a tiny bit of that away from her.

So, instead, I tell them I’m working the resort show, and Celeste is thrilled because they’ve got the perfect bottle of champagne

from their trip. Noel doesn’t bring up New York, thankfully, and puts on some Serge Gainsbourg as we pop the cork and pour

it into fancy flutes from Celeste’s aunt’s kitchen, the golden bubbles fizzing and skirting up the glass with a light layer

of foam at the top. We clink the glasses and celebrate my win, and we’re probably also celebrating them being a thing, which

I’m more than happy to do. In fact, I find that a bit more worthy of celebrating, given everything.

On Friday, I barely make it through the workday.

When I get there in the morning, I make sure all of my requests are out the door with record speed, but they keep coming in.

Rhodes and I are tasked with a million things, and we are pulled into more meetings with Haydée and Zoe. They’ll open up Zoom

and talk through something with another Maison Dauphine team member, mostly in French so I don’t actually know what’s going

on, and then we’ll have another task at the end of the meeting that needs to be done in fifteen minutes.

We organize the resort look database and receive a document of approved first priorities and VIPs, since we know the floodgates

for requests will open as soon as Vogue Runway posts all the looks after the show.

The energy has shifted from understated and poised to chaotic and fast-paced. Haydée and Zoe are working on gifts that I am going to drop off at hotels for some editors and celebrities this afternoon.

The good news is my sadness is only allowed to surface for very, very brief periods of time. I’m way too busy and overwhelmed

to experience it otherwise, and the rush of chaos has been invigorating. I work well under pressure, and there is a lot of

it.

The other good news is that Rhodes and I are forced to cohabitate, and we’ve nearly gotten friendly with each other. We’ve exchanged glances—shared disbelief at a timeline for a project, or a common feeling

of being dumbfounded by the inanity of a task.

After I drop off the gifts, my last task is to do a pickup for Haydée, which I find out is her dress for the show. She thanks

me profusely and apologizes for having me do it, but considering she looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten in two weeks at

this point, I mean it when I tell her I don’t mind.

As the business day comes to a close, we finally shut the fashion closet door for the first time and sit in silence. There’s

absolute pandemonium on the other side of that door, but in here, it’s quiet.

We sprawl out in our chairs, fully spent from the day. From the week, really.

“We did it,” Rhodes says. “We made it to the finish line.”

“Tomorrow is the real finish line,” I say.

Rhodes cracks his knuckles. “Right. Tomorrow night I’ll have the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

I nod. “My feet are killing me. I can’t wait to just lie around all day on Sunday.”

“I appreciate you taking on the invitations,” he says.

He must realize how much I ended up walking around Paris, even with some of the transportation suggestions.

It’s nice to hear him acknowledge that, and it’s a big step forward for us.

“Of course. No big deal.”

“I do find it a bit mad we have to hand-deliver invitations like that at all,” Rhodes says, hushed like Yvette might hear.

“These people have already reserved their spots. Or rather, their assistants have.”

“Just the way things work,” I say. “I guess it’s a fine tradition overall. It is a nice gesture.”

“Sure,” Rhodes says. “Tell your feet that.”

We both laugh, and it’s like we’re friends.

I’m exhausted, but Noel and Celeste are texting me that they’re eager to do something fun for their last night in Paris, and

they’re just as eager to include me and Rhodes. I could easily use the excuse that I need to get a good night’s rest before

the show tomorrow, but I don’t have a call time until five p.m., and they both know I’m not going to get much sleep regardless.

I’ll make up an excuse for why Rhodes can’t come. He’s got a dinner to go to or something.

“What is it?”

“Hmm?”

Rhodes points to my phone. “What’s got you making that face?”

I wasn’t aware of any certain formation of my facial muscles. “I’m not making any face. Am I?”

“Bit of a face,” he says.

I shrug. “It’s stupid.”

“Your face isn’t stupid ,” Rhodes pokes.

I roll my eyes. “Good one.”

“No, no. Okay, something stupid. My favorite.” Rhodes chuckles. “Tell me, then.”

“Noel and Celeste have been in Champagne this week, and now they’re back and it’s their last night in Paris, and they want

us to hang out with them,” I say. “But they’ve just been so happy, and after Celeste’s grandma and everything, I didn’t want

to bring down the mood, so I haven’t told them anything that’s gone on.”

“Between us, you mean.”

I nod. “Or with Maison Dauphine, even.”

Rhodes rubs his eye. “Whoa. So, what, they think this is all just sunshine and daisies?”

“They do,” I say. “But it’s fine. I’m just going to tell them you’ve got plans. Easy enough.”

We sit in silence and Rhodes seems to study me, scratching the back of his neck.

As we sit here, essentially staring at each other, I wonder if he thinks this apprenticeship has affected my appearance as

much as I have come to believe it has. It’s not like Noel or Celeste have commented on the way my face seems more sunken in,

and I wonder if I’m imagining things. Because when I look at Rhodes, his skin appears to be just as bright as the day we met.

No bags beneath his eyes, no thin cheeks, just a perfect complexion that appears healthy and radiant.

Of course.

“I could go with you.”

I blink. “What?”

“If you want, I could go with you tonight. I don’t mind. I liked Celeste and Noel.”

“Well, I’m sure you have something better to do,” I offer. “I completely understand if you want to get more rest before tomorrow

or...”

He folds his arms again. “Nah. I probably won’t sleep too well, honestly. Bit anxious, between us. So it’s fine. Unless you’d

rather me not. Then your plan is good.”

“No, I mean, I’d like you to come. If it won’t be too weird for you.”

“It’s just one evening.”

“But they’re going to think we’re...”

Rhodes cracks a smile. “I think I can manage one evening. If you can.”