De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  She opens her eyes and blinks a bit as unshed tears well in her beautiful eyes. She blows out a long steady breath and smiles again.

  Keep doing that, Natasha, keep fucking smiling. That scar only shows when you’re not. Fuck, I wonder if she knows that.

  “I have been swept up in the magic that all of you and Jean have created since I was eight years old. I’ve taken comfort in being inside that building you all are in right this moment. It was always my happy place.” Her lip quivers, and her hand clutches her shirt above her heart as she speaks.

  I look down trying not to focus on the fact that there is a chance I made her use the word was, instead of is.

  I feel an overwhelming need to get the fuck out of the room, so that she doesn’t have to face me, and to be honest, so I don’t have to face her, and in her, my past failings for now two women who trusted me, believed in me, but I can’t fucking move without causing her further disruption, regardless of how much it fucking hurts me.

  Part VI

  Oliver & Natasha (From Paris to London)

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Natasha (Six Months later)

  Prior to the launch of my winter line, I was an emotional basket case. My father was “disappointed in me”, for not telling him about it before he saw me on video screens all over de la Porte the day it was announced to the board. He did this via text message. I knew he had called Mom and she and Bass handled it, while Bass took the opportunity to tell him at the same time that he and Mom were together.

  I knew this because a week later my father called and told me. He also told me he went to Oliver about it and Oliver helped him “through it.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I was angry that he needed to be helped through anything concerning my mom. He’s the one that screwed up, not her. And I was embarrassed that Oliver now knew what a giant vagina my father was. When I messaged him that I was sorry he had been dragged into it, he responded, did he text you or call you. I replied, he called. His response was one word, Good.

  The week before my nineteenth birthday, my first line launched, and even though it was late, the designs we had sold out within two weeks to the same shops and boutiques that carried Jeans designs, in New York, LA, Paris, and London. They were already buzzing about the eighteen-year-old fashionista who is going to turn the fashion world upside down.

  Me, they were talking about me.

  When word got out I was already designing a line for the spring, the New York and Paris headquarters had to hire extra employees to handle the e-mail and calls coming in from all over the world with requests to place orders. Both Bass and Mom told me if I wanted to take a break from school and focus on the business, I should. But school was my saving… grace. I told them I wanted to continue doing what I had been. Taking classes during the week and traveling to Paris on the weekends. I had next semester’s coursework condensed to three days. I would be in school for longer days but would have Mondays and Fridays off.

  Autumn was now in Paris full-time and Mom was over the moon to have her back. I was over the moon, too. Until I realized, Oliver would be in charge of de la Porte New York and he’d be here less and less.

  He was here for Christmas when Autumn went home to be with her family. But he rarely looked at me, and when he did, I swear I saw pity in his eyes, for me.

  When I messaged him that night, I told him I was fine and he could stop looking at me like that. His reply was again, Good.

  After Christmas and celebrating Mom and Bass’s engagement, he missed two weekends, including New Year’s Eve. I spent New Year’s Eve faking happiness as we watched the ball drop and then faking sick as I laid in bed all day crying about how stupid I was for thinking I would maybe get to tell him Happy New Year.

  That weekend, the second in a row he missed, I FaceTimed him and did so using Maisie as an excuse. I would have taken that as hitting rock bottom if Maisie hadn’t regained her pep, but Oliver had thanked me and asked me to continue doing that if he was tied up in New York.

  When Stella’s father passed away two weeks later, he messaged me and asked how I was.

  I went on a rant, but instead of sending it, I pressed the delete button until it was gone, and typed, Good, instead.

  When I came home for the funeral, I had a few drinks with my friends and drunk messaged him…

  How can your dreams be coming true all around you and yet you feel like your whole world is crumbling apart? How?

  He didn’t reply.

  And when I called him, he sent me to voicemail.

  I was so angry, I sent another message asking him what I did to lose his friendship, he replied, it is I who lost yours.

  When Mom and Bass told me that they’d be getting married on February 14th, I had to take a brief break from the spring line to design my mom’s wedding dress and while I was at it, I designed my sister, or brother’s christening gown from the same material.

  I spent every moment after class designing it, and the following weekend I cut, hung, tacked and sewed the most beautiful dress I had ever created.

  I was feeling better about life, until the wedding itself.

  Standing under the Eiffel tower feeling beautiful for the first time in months, I watched two figures walking toward us. A couple, it was obviously so. In the dark, I couldn’t see their faces, but in my imagination, it was me and it was him. It wasn’t the first time I had imagined this very situation. This dream I dared dream got me through so many hard times.

  As they got closer, I felt a pain that I believe could be the worst pain a woman can ever feel, my heart was cracking, pieces of it breaking away and falling into a pool of nothing.

  Oliver had brought a date.

  She was tall, she was blonde, and she was unscarred.

  My stomach turned and before they reached us, I excused myself, and threw up behind the Eiffel Tower.

  Dizzy, I walked to the closest vendor to buy some mints when I saw someone beside me throw down two Eiffel tower keychains and a bottle of water.

  I looked over and recognized his hand, even though it’s newly tattooed.

  He paid the man and handed me the water.

  “I can get it.”

  “You okay?”

  “Leave me alone,” I hissed at him, hoping the vendor didn’t hear me.

  “I asked if you were okay.”

  I looked up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks, and his body went rigid.

  “I asked that you leave me alone.”

  “Natasha–”

  I took my change and the breath mints and began to walk away.

  He moved in front of me, stopping me.

  When I glared up at him, he tried to touch my face. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare touch me when all you see is someone else. And double don’t you dare touch me when you brought a date to my mother’s wedding.”

  “Then don’t you dare beg to be fucking touched, Natasha. And double don’t you dare look at me like I’m a monster. A monster would have deflowered you, not told you the fucking truth.”

  “You read my book.”

  He nodded once and held up his finger. Two key chains hung from it.

  “That’s sweet that you got your girlfriend–”

  “Date,” he corrected as if it made one damn bit of difference.

  “Fuck you, Oliver. Fuck you for ruining today and ruining this place–”

  He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me forward, and he snapped, “Watch your mouth.” Then he kissed the top of my head.

  “How dare you.” I pushed him away from me.

  His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, then, he walked away.

  It was after that when I realized I had been wrong about Oliver. And it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. He made me see beauty in all things, even scars. I’d just been blinded by their beauty to see what lies beneath. Changing that would now suffocate the beauty I’m creating, and I will not let that happen.

  I look around my empty dorm room and try to take pride
in the fact that I made it through my freshman year of college, on the dean’s list. Even though this entire year has been difficult, I made it.

  I made it through the threats in my inbox when Ines leaked the video she had taken of her and Bass having sex, when he was underage, trying to ride de la Porte coattails. And yes, I was the asshole who ensured it was spread like a disease all over the internet under a fake account. It ruined her. As well it should have.

  I made my friendship with Stella, and Aaron, even stronger, by communicating more, talking to them, more, leaning on them, more. Allowing them to help me. Stella was now one semester away from being here in London, with me.

  And I made it through my first heartbreak, caused by my fake boyfriend.

  I made it.

  The plane ride back to the US was freaking epic. My mom decided to go into labor over the Atlantic Ocean. I Googled how to deliver a baby and Maisie took notes. Bass held her hand between contractions, held her when she curled up after them, and I prayed the entire time that I didn’t have to bust out a YouTube video and deliver my sibling.

  When we arrive at the hospital five hours later, Oliver is there. I hate seeing him, hate it, because it is when he is closest that I miss him the most.

  I don’t know if is the scent of the hospital, or the realization that I will see him all summer that causes me to feel sick, but it hits me and hits me hard.

  When I think I’m going to throw up, I stand quickly, and collapse. Of course, Oliver catches me.

  “Sit down and relax.”

  “I’m fine,” I pull away from him as soon as I can.

  “Put your head between your legs.”

  “Why don’t you put your head–” I snap my jaw shut when one of his dark brows creeps up.

  “Natasha, honey, you should listen to him. Man’s got a purple heart,” Maisie gushes over him.

  “And I bet you thought I had none at all,” he whispers knowing she can’t hear him.

  “Where’d you get it, Tin Man, the wizard?”

  “Yeah, same place you got those panties.” He pushes on the back of my head, forcing me to put my head between my legs.

  “Different wizard,” I sigh.

  “Same wand,” he whispers so I can barely hear him.

  I heard the nurse who walked past into my mom’s room asking if the young woman in the waiting area was ill.

  “No, no, no,” I groan.

  I feel a hand on my back and a whispered, “Shhh.”

  “Get your freaking hand off me.”

  “Just trying to soothe you, sweetheart.”

  I sit up quickly at the sound of Maisie’s voice and Oliver chuckles right before I almost heave.

  I apologize to Maisie and ask her to do it again. When I feel her hand on my back, moving up and down, I sigh, “Thank you.”

  “Ang, you need to be in bed,” Bass warns Mom.

  When she kneels in front of me, I look up. “When did you eat last?” she asks.

  “This morning.”

  Looking at Oliver, she shouts out orders, “She needs ice chips, then ginger ale, then crackers, and lastly, a lollipop. In that order, Oliver.”

  He gives her a tight smile and stands. “Be right back. You need anything, Bass? Maisie?”

  “They’re fine.” Mom starts out stern and whimpers the word fine.

  “Mom, really, Bass is right, you need to get back in bed.”

  “This baby will wait. This one,” she squeezes my knee, “needs me now.”

  When Oliver returns, I sit up. He has everything Mom asked him to get. “Thanks.”

  I take the ice chips and eat a few, then he opens the ginger ale and puts a straw in it. When I reach for it my hand shakes. He says, “I got it.”

  Through a contraction Mom yells, “She throws up sometimes when she drinks.”

  “I’m aware.”

  When I glare at him, he gives me that smirk, the kind you don’t know if it was real or imagined.

  “Drink, Natasha.”

  I hate that he’s here, but I’d hate if he wasn’t, because of Bass, and Maisie, and even Mom probably thinks he’s Christ incarnate, too. And you know, I’m sure for somebody… someday, he will be, unless she looks like Grace. Then he’ll bat her around like a cat does a mouse, toying with her until she feels like she’s safe, and then snap her emotions around until she feels like she’s lost her damn mind.

  Mom cups my cheeks. “Baby, why are you crying?”

  I hadn’t realized I was, but that makes me sound crazier than I already think I am. “I’m excited,” I lie.

  “Okay, but crackers and lollipop.” Her head whips left and through her clenched teeth she grits out, “Crackers and lollypop.”

  Oliver smiles, a genuine smile, and hands me a cracker. When my mom’s head drops to my lap and her whole body tenses, I see Oliver stare at Bass and Bass back at him.

  “Mom.” She looks up. “I’m good, okay? I’m super.” I give her a thumbs up and smile. But if you don’t get in bed–”

  “Bass!”

  “Ang, I’m right here.”

  Once they’re in the room, Oliver nudges me with his knee. “What flavor?”

  He holds out a handful of suckers.

  “Cherry.” I put another cracker in my mouth and hold my stomach as I watch him unwrap it.

  “You feeling better, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, Maisie, thanks.”

  “Do you think you have a bug or something?”

  “Maybe jet leg?” I shrug.

  “Yeah,” she nods. “I’m sure that’s all.”

  Two hours later and I’m in Mom’s hospital room sitting beside her and holding her hand, as I wait my turn to hold my baby brother while watching Oliver help Maisie hold him. The way they look at him melts my heart. I already know he is going to be loved beyond measure.

  I adore the way Bass looks at Mom and at Joshua. The way he includes me in the smallest ways, with a wink, or a nod. I patiently wait my turn to hold the baby, knowing I’ll be the last to hold him, so I can take my time with the most beautiful little baby boy, my brother, Joshua Jean Josephs.

  When Mom passes him to me, I hold him and am overcome by peace. “You are so precious,” I whisper to only him as he looks up at me, or the ceiling, I’m unsure of which it is, so I decide it’s me. His hair is black and thick, and his eyes are blue like Mom’s.

  “I love you, Joshua, I already love you so much,” I whisper as I kiss his sweet chubby cheek. “I love you so much that I promise you no one, and I mean no one will ever make you feel less than perfect. Happy birthday, little man.”

  I decline the offer from Oliver to drive me back to the Hamptons with he and Maisie. I want to stay in this moment, the calm, the love, the joy a new life brings, and I want to stay in it forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Oliver (Two and a half months later)

  I try to think about where the summer went as I stand next to Maisie, waving to the kids in the van as they leave their two-week long summer vacation with Maisie in the Hamptons back to wherever it is they came from.

  We’ve had ten groups of eight to ten kids every two weeks. Some have learned to swim next door at Bass’s place. He had a pool put in last summer for that purpose, and a hot tub for another. I happen to know he hadn’t been in the hot tub, for his intended purpose, all damn summer. Things had changed since his boy arrived.

  Some of the kids saw the ocean for the first time. Some roasted marshmallows, fished, rode on a boat, went tubing, and slept under the stars for the first time. Some were able to close their eyes and sleep, actually sleep, without worry, for the first time. Some ate until they were full for the first time. But all of them saw and experienced how a parent should love and care for a child. And all of us, including me, have been forever affected by it.

  The girls, they got an extra treat this year with having Natasha and her friend Stella around often. They pampered them. They taught them how to apply makeup, paint their nails and toes,
braid and fix their hair, how to draw, paint, dance, sing, laugh, dream, and imagine.

  Only a couple of them recognized Natasha, and she swore them to secrecy, but secrets and teenagers are like a drop of ink on paper, its sure to spread.

  The boys, well, they experienced Natasha and Stella too. Mostly by getting busted spying on them. One little shit, Darrious, told me that older women were hot, and I told him he needed to make sure, if he wanted a woman like that, he took care of his self, first.

  I stayed away from Natasha as much as possible. But saying I didn’t admire her from afar would be a lie. Watching her with kids, her friend Stella, baby Joshua, and Maisie reminded me of everything I wanted, but still could never have.

  Tonight, she is hosting a little get together because in three days she was heading back to London for her sophomore year. I know Aaron Esposito… Aaron Esposito… Aaron Esposito… will be here and I will avoid that at all fucking costs.

  I had planned to leave, but Maisie was a little off tonight, and she asked me if I’d sit with her until she fell asleep. She must have forgotten I was supposed to head back to the city. Which was probably Karma smacking me in the face for hurting a girl like Natasha.

  Sitting on the deck, rocking in a chair next to hers, sweet tea in hand, she asks me what my plans are.

  It catches me a little off guard. “Well, I’ll head back in the morning and return this weekend.”

  “You know Natasha leaves in two days, right?”

  I don’t correct her by telling her it’s three, I simply reply, “I do.”

  “And then after the Labor Day party, Bass, Angela, baby Joshua, and I are supposed to head back to Paris.”

  “And I’ll do my best to make it there as–”

  “I’d rather you not.”

  “Is that so?” I laugh.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “You know, Maisie, a normal man would take a little bit of offense to that,” I laugh.

  “You’re not normal, and you’re not ordinary, Oliver, you’re extraordinary and someday I want to rest peacefully, because I’m tired, son, so very tired of forgetting things, being in pain–”