Page 24 of Parker

Chapter eighteen

Parker Fashion House, Glasgow

Nicky

“Reconsider,” my mother-in-law barks. Her face is the shade of beetroot as she paces the office, laying into me. “This is important for you, and for Parker Fashion. Stop being so bloody selfish, Nicky.” She storms back and forth, her glare never leaving my face.

“Imelda, please listen to me,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “Being the center of attention isn’t for me. You know that. Get someone else to do it.”

She turns on me like a woman possessed. “Someone else isn’t you. You need to own your genius. Let Nicky take center stage.” Striding toward me, she grabs my shoulders, pushing her nose to mine. Her eyes bore into me, willing me to listen.

“You’re the most thrilling designer I’ve seen in years.

Heaven help me, I didn’t want to admit it, but now I do.

You’ve earned this, darling.” She places her hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye.

“We may not always agree. But in your four and a half years at Parker Fashion, I’ve seen a bud beginning to bloom.

Now let it flower. Lead the competition. ”

“I’ll think about it,” I mumble, scuttling from the office as fast as I can.

My chest tightens. I hate how small I feel at times like this, like being back in prison when the decisions were not mine. My mind whirs. Am I ready to take the spotlight? I’m not sure.

They say fools rush in, but Joel and I have never looked back after our shotgun wedding.

We’re hopelessly in love, as cliché as that sounds.

With Joel’s support and my growing skills at work, my confidence is at an all-time high.

But I still don’t think I can compete in the biggest design contest of the year and represent the fashion house. That still feels like a step too far.

The Unique Fashion Award is one of the most sought-after prizes in the fashion industry.

Organizers ask every design house worldwide to supply samples, then they narrow the contestants down to ten finalists.

Each house picks one designer to create a piece for the show.

Parker Fashion has made the shortlist for the first time in a decade with my design.

Imelda wants me to head the team this year.

My relationship with my mother-in-law has improved a lot over the four and a half years I’ve been married.

In the beginning, it was strained—she didn’t agree with our union and made her opinions clear.

I was an outcast, a gold digger. But as time passed, she saw I genuinely loved Joel and supported him in any way I could.

When he had a deadline, I would bring meals to the office or sit with him and file paperwork after hours. There was no whining or moaning if he had to work late or if he had to travel and stay away for weeks at a time.

In the workshop, I kept my head down, listened to my mentor, and learned the craft of fashion design. I dedicated hundreds of nights to hand-sewing sequins and designing my own pieces in my free time. Nervous, I kept them hidden.

When Joel came across my sketchpad at home, he brought my first dress to life. He shouted for me to come downstairs, prattling on about how distinctive they were. How talented I was. I didn’t believe him until his mother agreed.

***

That night, I’m lying in bed pretending to sleep when Joel comes in. Not that he’ll believe I am; I can’t fake much that will get past him.

“Baby, we need to talk,” he says, sitting down on the bed beside me. “About the awards.” I huff and turn onto my side, not wanting to talk about it.

“Nicky,” he scolds. “Just bloody listen, will you?” My heart hurts slightly. I hate disagreeing with him. I flip myself over to face him.

“Has your mother put you up to this?” He nods, and I sigh, but I always have time for my husband. “Okay, talk to me.”

“I think you should do it.” He flashes me his best sexy smile. “I’ll make it worth your while, Mrs. Parker. Back rubs for a month.” I giggle. He knows I love back rubs. “And I know you’ll be amazing, Nicky. I one hundred percent believe you could win it for yourself and for Parker Fashion.”

“Really? Do you think I should? What if I make a fool of myself and the house? I’d never live it down. Ebony would never let me.”

“Forget Ebony,” he mutters. “She’s barely holding it together. It’s all slipping away.” I glance at him, startled by the weight in his voice. “What does that mean?”

He hesitates. “Just…she’s dealing with a lot at home.” Something about the way he won’t meet my eyes makes my stomach turn.

“And what is going on at home, Joel?” My voice drops to a whisper. “You never tell me what all the secret conversations are about. She’s always sneaking to your office for a chat.”

“She’s my oldest friend, baby.” He rolls his eyes but strokes my cheek with his thumb in comfort.

The tenderness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, the kind I thought he kept only for me.

The knife twists in my gut again. “I’m the closest thing to a family she has.

Her husband is hard, you know that. This wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. ”

“She wants in your pants,” I mumble, grumpy. He groans. He’s heard this before. “But I’ll think about the competition.” Even as the words leave my lips, we both know I’m already halfway there.