Fashion Jungle

by Kathy Ireland

  Zoe frowned. “Danica, you’re a good person. I know you are. We all have bad days.”

  “No.” Danica’s smile was sad. “Bad days are one thing. I’m talking about bad choices, really bad choices, ones made with equally bad people.” Tears filled Danica’s eyes. “Insecurity screams louder than the darkness, and insecurity is one of the most terrible beasts I’ve ever fought. I’m so tired. So, so tired.”

  “Then quit!” Zoe pulled her friend in for a hug. “You don’t need the money.”

  “It’s never been about the money. It’s about the high, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit in love with it, too.”

  Zoe was silent.

  “But—” The girls broke apart. “I’m really happy for you. Truly. I see the way he looks at you. He’d burn down the world if you asked him to.”

  “Ha. Well, thankfully, I’m the yin to his yang, no apocalypse necessary.”

  “I know.” Danica winked. “Anyway, you know what you have to do now. Hand him the list, and… congrats, you’re officially the first girl to hand it over to the man of your dreams.” Danica grabbed Zoe’s copy of the list and wrote down one final entry. “Number fifteen, never lie. Never go to bed angry.”

  “Him? Never lie?” Zoe joked.

  “I’d be more worried about the second part,” Danica said quietly. “He’s not a liar, it’s his greatest strength and greatest weakness. When he loves someone, he loves them with all the good and the ugly, so promise me that when he shows you the ugly, you’ll love him despite it. Because I think you’re the only woman in existence who can break him, and that terrifies me.”

  “I won’t break him.” Zoe hugged Danica again.

  He had kept the list.

  He’d kept it.

  Zoe didn’t even remember getting ready for the day. All she knew was that the stupid list was still on the kitchen counter when she walked by it.

  And because she liked to torture herself, she stopped and looked down at number fifteen written in Danica’s perfect script.

  It was as if she was there with Zoe, reminding her of something she’d purposely forgotten in order to protect herself.

  And, sadly, to punish herself for not getting there sooner.

  In what world could Zoe save a man like Dane?

  She couldn’t even save his perfect sister.

  And in what world did she even deserve to?

  Her head pounded.

  Her heart ached.

  Brittany took one look in the mirror and scowled. Not only had Ronan evaded almost every question after the kiss, but he’d kept trying to dig up the past as if it suddenly mattered again.

  After two hours at the bar, she still only had an answer to two political questions, and she looked like she’d just gotten run over by a train.

  Her phone went off. It was Grace.

  Fantastic.

  “Hello?” She tried sounding chipper, but her voice was raspy, off, probably from all the talking she’d done last night. Her phone beeped with the sound of an incoming text.

  “My email.” Fingernails tapped against a keyboard. “I just checked it, refreshed it, checked again, and nothing. Nothing political, and I refuse to count… what’s that one intern who sends cat videos? Ridiculous. I refuse to count that as new mail.”

  Brittany held in her sigh. “It’s Marco, and I think it’s his way of trying to make you laugh.”

  A pause and then, “I laugh.”

  Did she, though? Britt wasn’t sure. Her lips curved into an exhausted smile. “I promise I’ll have it on your desk by noon.”

  “That’s in three hours.”

  “I’m aware of the time.”

  “Good.” She hesitated then added, “It might behoove you to get some information on that divorce, as well. News just broke this morning after you two were seen getting cozy at Michael’s.”

  “What?” Brittany clung to her cell with one hand and flipped on her TV with the other. Sure enough, Kelly Ripa and Ryan Seacrest were going through the daily gossip, and she was front and center, smiling at Ronan while he leaned in like he was going to kiss her. And they were speculating about what it meant, and if Brittany was meeting him in secret.

  She knew he hadn’t kissed her at dinner.

  And that when he did kiss her, she had shoved him away.

  But the picture looked bad.

  Really bad.

  She groaned into the phone.

  “Cheer up, girl, any press is good press, and you’ve just magically made our Friday shoot our most important of the year. I knew I could count on you.”

  “To look like I was seducing a married man?” Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! History felt like it was thrusting itself into the present, and she wasn’t guilty, not this time. This time, she really had stuck to her morals. She hadn’t let him charm her into saying yes when she should have said no.

  But the outcome was the same.

  Her other line started going off again, this time with a phone call instead of a text.

  She pulled the phone away, just in time to see Oliver’s name.

  “Right,” she finally said, sniffling a bit and wiping under her nose. “I gotta go, Grace.”

  “Noon.”

  The line went dead. With shaking hands, Britt answered. “Hey, I can explain…”

  “You were the one who said you couldn’t talk about him.” Oliver didn’t even seem angry. No, he sounded hurt, which was worse. Anger she could manage, hurt feelings? Betrayal? It was painful. “And I gave you that space. I know you don’t know me very well, so imagine my surprise when you cancel on me to go to dinner with him.”

  “It’s not how it looks!” Her chest felt like it was cracking in half as she scrambled for words and sentences that she could string together so she could help Oliver see her side of things. “It really was a business dinner. Grace wants a story on him, she wants us on the cover.”

  “Unbelievable,” Oliver muttered like he was disappointed. “Brittany, you have to cut me some slack. I’m not from your world, but I do know how men think. You were at dinner with him, alone, it’s all over the press that he and his wife are divorcing, and you admittedly had a relationship with him sixteen years ago. What am I supposed to think?”

  She gasped, and anxiety tightened her chest. “Ah, so you finally did that Google search.” Was that it, then? He was done?

  “Only after I saw the news this morning,” he admitted in a soft voice.

  “Find anything interesting?” She felt herself building walls around her heart, and she hated that she was doing it.

  “Don’t,” he said quickly. “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Don’t take the easy way out. I was out of my mind this morning, all right? The woman I like, the woman I’m falling for was out with another man. A married man.”

  “That’s not me!” she blurted, hating that her voice was heavy with tears, despising that this was even an issue, that the world was, once again, watching her fail—at least that was how it felt.

  What would Oliver do if he knew the truth?

  The hospital?

  Ronan not showing up?

  The lies?

  Her stomach roiled.

  “Food.” Oliver’s voice sounded tired. “At the hospital. After my shift tonight, we can talk.”

  “Okay.” She gulped.

  “No lies, no omissions. If we do this, you have to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” she repeated. “When sometimes I don’t even trust myself?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  The line was quiet; she could hear his breathing on the other end. “Britt, at some point in your life, you’re going to have to take a chance, risk your heart again. But you won’t ever be able to do that until you move on. Right now, you think you’re growing, moving, but it seems to me you’re just as hung up on the past as he is. It still has this choke hold on you. And part of me wonders if that’s the way you want it
.”

  “Excuse me?” Anger surged through her. “You’ve been on one date with me, and now you’re my shrink?”

  He cursed. “That was out of line.”

  “You think?”

  “Look, maybe this is my jealousy talking, but it appears that something is tethering you to him—still. And you aren’t the only one risking something here.”

  “I know.” Could she feel any worse? Probably not. “I know that.”

  “Look, I have to go. Meet me later today, after my shift?”

  Get more answers out of Ronan, write her first political piece for Grace, and meet Oliver before the end of the day? Sure, no problem. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  She hit end and threw her phone against her mattress then ran around the room, dressed, and for the first time since she was sixteen, put her hair in a knot on her head and grabbed her laptop. She had enough for one paragraph, and it needed to be a cover story—a spread. With hesitation, she eyed her phone again, then with a groan, picked it up, prayed for strength, and dialed Ronan’s number, anger pulsing through her body.

  He picked up immediately. “Britt, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Two answers, I got two answers out of you last night. I need more.”

  “Meet me for lunch.”

  Irritation grated her nerves. “After watching the news, you really think that’s a good idea?” Her face flashed across the television again, with more speculation as to her being the reason for Ronan and Joy’s divorce. “They think I’m the other woman!”

  “The media loves drama. Don’t worry, my team is on it.”

  “Oh, good, so your team is on it while my life unravels from one business dinner. Fantastic. And where was your team when—?”

  She stopped talking.

  He cursed on the other line. “I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did, or what I didn’t do, but I’d like to make that up to you.”

  “You can’t make up moments, you can only promise to be there when they happen, Ronan. That’s sort of the way the universe works.”

  “Not being there is the biggest regret of my life,” he said softly, making her heart ache in her chest. She rubbed the spot and prayed for it to go away as she squeezed her eyes closed.

  “Too. Late,” Brittany whispered. “I’m going to email you ten questions, answer them, please. I need to turn in the article by noon since Grace is fast-tracking this for next month’s issue.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “No. We’re done having dinners, Ronan.”

  “Drinks?”

  “I think for your political career to not end up in tatters, you should stay away from women for a while. It never works out for your family when the men start dating models and actresses anyway, does it?”

  “That was a low blow, and you know it.”

  Yeah, but she was hurting, and he was the one twisting the knife. “I’ll see you on Friday for the shoot.”

  “Fine.”

  She hung up and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing it was someone else. Oliver? Roger? Her mom?

  If she could send the universe one message right now, it would be: help. Just help. A simple request, someone to hug her, someone to tell her that she could handle this, that she could keep it together when she felt like she was in quicksand. What if Oliver walked away? What if this was too much? Would she blame him? And Ronan? As much as she wanted to shove him out of her life, they shared something, they shared an actual person that he’d never met, that she’d—

  Someone rang her doorbell.

  Either God was really quick, or it was truly the worst day ever.

  Brittany jogged to the door just in time to see Roger standing there, coffee in his right hand, a box full of donuts in the other, and a wide grin on his face. “I figured today of all days, you needed sugar.”

  And then she burst into tears all over his soft leather jacket.

  “Can we have Dane murder him yet, you think?” Roger asked, quietly making her laugh.

  “Don’t talk like that. You know Dane would do it for a price.” She grabbed the coffee and shut the door behind him while he did his typical assessment of the place like he was hoping dirt would present itself.

  “Everyone has a price, honey.” He finally stopped looking around and directed his gaze back to her. His brown eyes were warm but always peered into her, trying to figure her out. “Never forget that.”

  “I haven’t.” She took a sip of the coffee and then grabbed a donut. “Thank you for this.”

  “Well, I saw the news.”

  Brittany groaned. “Everyone saw the news.” Exhaustion hit her again. “I feel like I worked so hard for my reputation, and now this? Really? Oliver’s confused and rightfully angry because I was afraid to tell him that Ronan was my business dinner, and now the world thinks I’m the other woman when all I did last night was shove him away and try to act professionally.”

  “Shove him away?” Roger tilted his head.

  “Caught that, did you?” Brittany grumbled.

  “As in, he was closing in for a kiss, and you shoved him?”

  Brittany winced and took another long sip of coffee. “As in his mouth touched mine, and I shoved him with both hands.”

  “Good girl.” Roger winked. “Though I’m surprised he was that bold. He’s not notorious for being the bad boy of the family. I think that goes to dear old Dad.”

  “Notorious?” she repeated. “He’s American royalty, prone to flirting with anything with a pulse. You know this.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s pretty, so he likes to think he can get away with it.”

  She rolled her eyes and took another bite. The last thing she wanted to think about was Ronan’s good looks. Those mixed with his charm were what had gotten her into trouble in the first place, right? He’d been there for her, he’d been solid, larger than life, and he’d let her down. “I hate this, and I have Grace’s article due, which—hold on.” She held up her finger and grabbed her phone, then quickly sent the remaining questions to Ronan. “He didn’t want to talk politics, he wanted to talk about the future.”

  “Ah, which meant he probably wanted to dig up the past and say he’s sorry, blah, blah, blah.”

  She just shrugged, not wanting to get into the details, mainly because Roger was the only one she’d trusted enough to tell, well not the only one. Her stomach clenched. Like a good friend Roger had quickly sworn to forget the conversation had ever happened.

  For both of them.

  “If there’s anything you’ve taught me…” He walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s that you survived this jungle because you’re a lioness. More than that, you know who you are. Whenever you questioned it, whenever you got off your path, you re-directed yourself.”

  Brittany gulped as more tears filled her eyes. She didn’t deserve those words, she wanted to be the type of woman who did, but how could she see herself that way when she couldn’t even forgive her past? “I think you just have a high opinion of me.”

  “For good reason. Because you’re genuinely good, Brittany. You see the world differently. It’s why people want to see things through your eyes, why photographers constantly ask me what makes you so beautiful. It’s your soul. And, right now, your soul hurts, and I do remember a girl of twenty-two, one time telling me that when the soul hurts, it goes to the only place that sick souls are truly welcome.”

  “Church,” she finished for him.

  “A hospital for the sick, not for the well,” he said, quoting her younger self. “But since it’s a weekday, why don’t you do what you did in that hotel room all those years ago? Maybe a little bit of day-reading to center yourself after you write that article. You’re my favorite, you know. Not because you think you’re better than everyone, but because you genuinely love every single person you meet with your whole heart. Your greatest fault will always be your greatest strength.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, go make the politician look good,
then remind yourself why you’re so unforgettable to everyone who meets you.”

  Roger opened the door and clicked it shut behind him as he left.

  Tears clouded Brittany’s vision as she made her way back into her bedroom and noted the small Bible on her nightstand; last night’s glass of wine next to it.

  He was right.

  With determination, she grabbed her laptop and got to work, then cleaned up the wine glass and grabbed the Bible.

  To Brittany.

  Love, Mom.

  And under it all, in her mom’s shaky handwriting…

  Jesus, be her center.

  What Everlee was doing was wrong, but Frederick had blood on his shirt. What was she supposed to do? Approach him and ask if he’d gotten in a fight? Her pregnancy hormones weren’t helping the situation, and her paranoia was at an all-time high.

  Was she actually hacking into her husband’s computer?

  He was shooting all morning, and since she was so exhausted and sick, the last thing she wanted to do was leave the apartment. Besides, she didn’t have anything until Friday. Trend was doing a shoot for Brittany and Ronan, and that meant she needed to be there to support her friend. It helped that Jauq and Frederick were tag-teaming it. Both were being given an opportunity to show the vision they had for the couple.

  It would be beautiful.

  It always was when those guys worked together.

  She typed in another password.

  And failed.

  She would be locked out if she guessed wrong the next time. Her stomach sank when she realized that after years of marriage, he’d changed all his passwords. The ones for his email, his chat—everything was different, and he’d never told her.

  He’d just done it.

  He’d quietly shut her out of a part of his life.

  One day you’re married to the man of your dreams; the next day, he’s joking about not wanting kids, you getting fat, and you find blood on his shirt.

  Forget Mondays, Wednesdays were now the worst.

  She touched her stomach and drummed her fingertips on the table. She did have one idea.