by Erika Kelly
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I know how much it meant to you.”
“It’s for the best.” The way he leaned in, turning his shoulder just slightly, blocked Gray from the conversation. “I’m clean. Sober for seven years, so being around my dad…not a good idea.”
Gray inserted himself into their warm and fuzzy reunion. “What’re you doing now?”
Robert sat back in his chair, legs splayed out, one arm resting on the table. “I’m in fashion.”
“You work for your mom?” Knox sounded surprised.
Robert nodded. “Should have done it from the start, right? It’s hard enough to make it in Hollywood, but with a pothead dad? Who’s burned through every connection he’s ever made?” Knee jackhammering, he grabbed a fork, turned it over and tapped the tines on the table. “Shows you how messed up I was that I chose him over The Granger Collection.”
Seemed strange that Mrs. Granger wouldn’t mention her son in their conversation. Considering the relationship, it seemed an obvious thing to bring up.
“What do you do for them?” Knox asked.
Easy to check. He’d look up the corporate website when he got home. Any hint of guilt he might’ve felt about not believing his old friend, who appeared alert and clean, didn’t stick. He’d learned long ago addicts couldn’t be trusted.
With his attention on tapping the fork, Robert said, “I’m not full-time yet. I’ve got to prove myself to my mom. In the meantime, I do contract work for them. I’m hoping to be Creative Director for one of their lines.”
“I had no idea you were interested in fashion.” Knox tugged on the cuff of his dress shirt. “Look at you, Mr. Burberry.”
“Man’s gotta look the part in this business.” He flashed a charming grin. “But, no, I can’t say I’ve ever been interested in fashion. I’m very interested in a career, though. I’ve wasted enough time, and I want to get some traction. The family company’s my best path.”
“Have you looked into the different jobs, though? Creative Director will be tough to land at Granger’s without a degree in fashion or experience in the field.” Knox shook her head. “Listen to me, giving you advice five minutes after seeing you again.”
“No, it’s cool. Tell me.”
“It’s just that the Creative Director’s the one who comes up with the overall vision for the house’s lines. And that takes into account the marketing and advertising strategies and retail environments. You’d need those skills. I used to work for a fashion house, and I can tell you they’d never hire someone who didn’t have deep experience and a history of success.”
“Luc Bellerose?” He said it with a sly grin.
She nodded. “I don’t want to discourage you. Just the opposite. I want to see you succeed and, without the right background and experience, Creative Director might not get you on the track you want quickly enough.”
Setting the fork down, Robert drummed the edge of the table with two fingers. “What job would?”
“Honestly?” Knox said. “I’d start as an intern. Learn every aspect of the business and figure out where you want to work. You’ve already got the advantage of being a Granger, so it wouldn’t take as long for you as an outsider. But I honestly don’t believe any successful person would just hand over a prime job to someone—even her son. I think you could prove your sincerity by learning her business from the bottom up.”
“I can’t say I want to start as an intern, but I hear you. I’ll think about it.”
“It’s good to see you so motivated. It’s nice.”
“Back when you knew me, I was only interested in my next score.” He paused. “And you.”
She lost her smile. “In that order.”
Robert dropped his hands into his lap, and his shoulders slumped. All his shine dimmed. “I know what I did to you guys.” He cut a look to Gray. “And I don’t blame either of you for bailing on me. I put you both through hell, and you sticking with me as long as you did? That says a lot more about you than me. But I’m going to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to make anything up.” Though Gray was pretty sure the comment was meant for Knox.
“I’d just like to see you happy and healthy.” Knox patted his arm.
Robert nodded deeply. “I can do that. There’s also one more thing I can do for you.” A smile burst his features wide open. “I can get you into Bridal Fashion Week.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Knox felt like she’d stepped right off a curb into oncoming traffic. “What did you say?”
Robert sat so close their knees bumped under the table. “Got the run-down from my mom.” He tipped his chin toward Gray. “That’s what brought me out here. Heard my two best buds were working on a project together.”
The temperature in the restaurant soared to tropical. She wanted to fan herself with the napkin. “Robert, it’s three weeks away. There’s not a chance in hell we can get a show together by then.” Is there? Whatever words came out of her mouth, he’d already tossed propane on the fire in her belly. Could he pull this off?
“Why not?”
Of course, he couldn’t. How? He knew nothing about the fashion industry. “Because it’s a huge production. It took a year to put together the show I lost.” She cast a look to Gray, not wanting him to feel bad about it.
But she didn’t see guilt. The man was stricken. Oh, Gray. She needed to make sure he understood this reunion didn’t impact their relationship. And, though she was sure the kiss had gotten the message across, she needed to show Robert, too.
She gave Gray a warm smile and held her hand out to him. He grasped it.
“I think we can do this.” A light shone in Robert’s eyes. “I’ve run it by some people. Look, it’s New York City. For the right amount of money, finding a venue’s a no-brainer. Hiring models? With all the agencies out there, no issue at all. Everything else, with Granger’s connections…we’ve got this. Piece of cake.”
“More like a whole ten-tier wedding cake,” she said. “It’s a production and, even for a smaller show, it takes six months to build a set.”
“Does it have to be that elaborate, though?” Robert asked. “As long as you have the dresses, you can leave the rest to me.”
Excitement buzzed, and she wanted to stomp it out. It was cruel of him to make it sound so do-able. She should shut down the conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. “I don’t think it’s a problem to have one of each dress ready. We’d make it a priority.” She gave Gray a squeeze. She loved the feel of his big, warm hand. “What do you think?”
“Your call.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“If you’ve got the dresses,” Robert said. “Then we’ve got everything else.”
“When you say we, you mean The Granger Collection?” Gray asked.
“Yep,” Robert said. “We have all the connections, all the vendors and modeling agencies.” He set his arms on the table. “Knox, I think we can do this.”
She was starting to believe him, and it made her queasy. Getting her hopes up again felt…dangerous. “Even if you could pull it all together—the venue, models, hair stylists, all of that—we’d still need people to show up. There’s no point in showing my gowns to an empty room. And they need to be the right people.”
“The buzz is already there,” Robert said. “Luc created it for you.”
“Once she cancelled, though,” Gray said. “All those bloggers and editors and buyers booked other shows. Their schedules are full.”
As the two men talked about her show, she pulled into herself, needing a moment to take it all in. It felt surreal, the three of them reunited, talking as if no time had passed. Though it clearly had. The men were bigger, harder. The tension between them thicker.
And Robert was sober. Which was…phenomenal. At first, when he’d tried to hug her, she’d resisted. Residual anger? Probably. It had taken a long time to free herself from the bonds they’d forged over so many years.
The
memories, though, had formed a hard knot in her gut, and they’d stayed there. Until tonight, when he’d whispered in her ear, “Been waiting for this moment, when I could be the man you always wanted me to be.” Those simple words had dissolved the knot. Relief had crashed over her. Seeing him healed was a gift.
He’d joked about her thinking of him as a homeless junkie, but it wasn’t funny. Over all these years, when she’d allowed herself to think about him, she’d imagined him holed up in some seedy apartment, doing tricks to score meth.
And now here he was, whole, healthy…and dangling her dream right in front of her.
“You hear me, babe?” Robert snagged her attention. “I’d bet my trust fund, once they hear you’re back, they’ll rearrange their schedules to come see what you’ve got.”
Gray rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I think he’s right about that.”
Robert smiled at him—and just that moment of connection between old friends gave her the peace of mind that they could work together, the three of them.
“Well, before you get all excited,” she said. “You should probably see the collection. If you don’t love it, you won’t be able to sell it.”
“I got into town yesterday. Went to the bunkhouse to see you. Saw all those dresses…” Robert let out a slow breath through pursed lips. “Damn. They’re dynamite. That’s when I got the idea, because, babe, those dresses deserve more than a pop-up boutique. I looked you up online and, I’m telling you, I lost count of how many articles and blogs are out there, talking about Knox Holliday, the White-Hot Wedding Gown Designer.” He got a gleam in his eyes. “You’re the talk of the town. We can do this. I can make it happen.”
“You don’t know how much I want to, but with just three weeks to pull it off, I can’t risk it. When I debut at fashion week, it has to be big. I can’t afford anything less.”
“The Granger Collection’s got a whole department for fashion shows. I’ve got enough people to guide me that I know I can pull this off.”
“It’s expensive, Robert. You hire the models for the whole week, because it’s not just the show itself they have to dress for. They have to be in the room for presentations and appointments.” She’d just made peace with this new path, and now Robert—of all people—was giving the original one back to her.
And the worst thing of all? He was right. She might not get everyone who’d responded to her original invitation, but she knew without a doubt that plenty of the editors and buyers would come see her collection.
Robert leaned in, giving off a powerful forcefield of energy. “Give me a chance, Knox, to not let you down. I don’t know what it costs, I don’t know if I can get the editors and buyers to come, I can’t guarantee a damn thing, but I want to try. Before you outright reject me, can you give me a couple of days to try and pull this together?”
“I want Bridal Fashion Week more than anything, but I only get one shot out of the starting gate. If I fail, if the models don’t know what they’re doing, or the right people don’t come to the show, then it’s ten times worse for me than not showing at all. So, if you want to see what you can do—quietly and behind the scenes—then, okay, let’s give it a shot.”
“Yeah?” Robert gave her a look that said, We’re doing this. You and me.
“Yeah.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Knox flicked on the lights, tossed her tote on the table, and headed into the kitchen. “I’m making tea. You want some?” Her brain was spinning so fast, she couldn’t make it stop. Bridal Fashion Week was three weeks away. Even with The Granger Collection’s connections, they still needed a venue, wedding gown models. The dresses needed to fit the models. Stylists, PR.
There was so much to think about. She’d totally relied on Luc last time.
She set the kettle under the faucet and looked up at Gray. “Do you have Robert’s number?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I might be changing my mind. It’s too risky.” She shut off the water and placed the kettle on the stove.
“You want to sleep on it?” Gray pulled down two mugs, the answer to her question.
“You’re having tea?”
“I’m having tea with you.”
Oh, God. This man. He had a way of saying things that sliced through all the wires she got herself tangled up in. She slid her arms through his.
Pressure bore down on her, though, and her head ached. She pulled away from him and poured honey into her mug. She offered the bear-shaped container to him, but he shook his head. “I just don’t know if I can trust him,” she said. “He sounded good, but…I don’t know. Maybe I’m not being fair, judging him by his past behavior.”
“I don’t see how we could trust him—especially with something as important as this. But we don’t have to take his word on anything. He’ll come to us with what he’s got, and we’ll follow up. Verify that it’s all above-board and exactly what you want. You did make it clear you wanted him to do it behind the scenes.”
“I’m smarter than I realized.”
“You are.”
“And his mom is doing the pop-up for me, so she would want the show to go well. It’ll drive business to her store.”
“She’s not doing it for you.” His tone said, Can you get that through your thick head? “It’s not a favor. She’s a businesswoman. She’s not giving you two hundred and fifty grand and space in her Fifth Avenue boutique because you used to date her son. She’s doing it because she wants a piece of your very hot action.”
She shook her ass. “Pretty sure everyone wants a piece of my action.”
He came up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. “Can you blame them? Everyone wants to be associated with a superstar.” Kissing her cheek, he rocked her in his arms.
She tipped her head back against his chest. “He seemed sober, right?”
“He did, but he’s always hid it well.” He looked uncomfortable, and she knew he had more to say about it.
She pulled out of his embrace to face him. “That’s the point. He hides it well, and I guess I don’t want to go back there, where I’m sniffing his breath and sneaking looks at his phone and wondering where he is every second. It’s different now. This is my career.”
“You’re right. So, if you don’t trust him, then we stick to the plan. You will get your show. It just has to be when it’s right for you.”
If it were anyone but her ex, would it seem like such an enormous decision? Like, was it the timing—three weeks to pull it off? No, that wasn’t it. She would definitely look into it.
It was Robert.
She pulled two teabags out of the chamomile box, staring at the silver kettle but seeing her ex’s hands beating out a tune on the table. It didn’t mean he was high. Could’ve been nervous. I mean, talk about a surprise reunion…and at the exact moment she and Gray were kissing?
They’d all been nervous. There was so much going on beneath the surface.
“Strange seeing him after all these years.” His big palm covered her cheek.
“I always thought, if I ever saw him again, he’d hate me. I didn’t see hate.” As the kettle started to whistle, she poured the water into the mugs. “And no one’s got better skills at reading him than I do. All I ever did was check for signs that he was high or lying or cheating or stealing. So, yeah, my Spidey senses are well-honed.”
“And what did you see?”
“He kept moving. His hands, fingers, a leg shaking under the table.”
Gray nodded. “I noticed.”
“But my senses aren’t reliable, because I was so nervous about seeing him. And then he dropped the fashion week bomb. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“You don’t need to know anything right now.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” She brought the mug to her mouth, letting the steam warm her, the scent relax her. Only, it wasn’t working. The pressure kept bearing down on her, making it hard to take a full breath.
She
looked around the room, the empty work stations. Tomorrow, the sewers would return to pack up their stations, marking each box so it could be taken to the new space.
Committing her to living in Calamity.
Breathe.
And now Robert was back in town.
And she and Gray were together. The world titled, and she reached for the counter.
Leaving his mug on the counter, Gray headed out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“Gonna grab some blankets. Let’s take our tea and sit outside.”
“That’s a good idea.” Except that nothing seemed like a good idea. Everything seemed scary and overwhelming. Images rushed her—the trailer, her comforter, in particular—the tear from Robert’s belt buckle. He ruined everything.
He did. He always had. There wasn’t a single good memory from their last couple of years together. So, why would she trust him with her show?
You want it so much you’re willing to take a chance on the least trustworthy person you know?
Gray strode out of the hallway with a big, down comforter in his arms. Something about seeing this man—this big, powerful man—coming toward her with a blanket made her feel scared. And she didn’t know why.
Well, she did know. She was afraid of getting too close to him, of relying on him, only to have him take off and leave her alone again. She blinked back the sting of tears and busied herself with stirring her tea. If she looked at him, he’d see it. And she needed to be strong.
He opened the French doors. “Can you grab my mug?”
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
He nodded but didn’t go out the door. “You coming?”
“In a minute. I want to make a list. For Robert. If we’re going to do this, then I need to know he won’t mention my name. I also need to make sure he understands about the production. This is a big event. You can’t show dresses like these in an ordinary setting. And I need him to know I can’t pay for anything. I just took on the lease of a building I don’t even know if I can afford. I mean, I haven’t even talked to the MacAllister sisters. They might not choose me. I might not get another order at all. And then where will I be?”