She’s here to take him away from me. I know it down to my core, but this time, she won’t be successful. I have the utmost confidence that Simon and I will see through whatever manipulations and games Jacqueline tries to use. We’ve had several more raw, deep conversations, revealing more and more of ourselves to one another, and I would never doubt him for an instant, and he would never doubt me. We’re solid and steady, a united front against whatever battle Jacqueline is bringing to our door.

  “Of course. Upstairs.” I guide them to the elevator, and I swear I think Jacqueline holds her breath while we go up to the third floor.

  As I open the gate, Simon calls out, “Who was it, Princesse?”

  “Bitch trying to sell me a second chance,” I answer, knowing that’ll stop him from scrolling through our budget to look up and see what I’m talking about.

  “Second chance what?” he says. “Oh.”

  He leans back in his chair, scrutinizing Jacqueline and her entourage through narrowed eyes. Finally, he gets up and approaches. I want to block him, protect him from whatever Jacqueline has come here to do, because I’ve seen how much pain and hurt he carries around deep inside.

  But instead of Jacqueline, Simon offers Tobias a handshake that turns into a bro hug. “Good to see you, man. How’s my little guy?”

  Tobias smiles warmly but confesses, “He’s an absolute pain in my ass. I don’t see how you keep him around. All he does is eat and demand affection. It’s like having another one of myself in the house, except he’s kicked me out of my own bed at this point.”

  Simon laughs, and even I have to grin a little at Xerxes’s antics. I do kinda miss the cute demon-possessed monster’s yips.

  “Where’s he at now?” I ask.

  “Pet bed and breakfast,” Tobias answers with an eye roll. Glancing at his watch, he adds, “I believe it’s about time for his nighttime spa routine before he’s tucked into his faux fur-lined, feather-filled bed.”

  I don’t think he’s exaggerating, given how much Simon spoils Xerxes.

  “Ahem.” Jacqueline clears her throat, garnering our attention. “I hoped we could discuss an idea I’ve had.”

  Simon and I look at each other, unspoken communication of a united front passing between us. “Sure. Over here.”

  We sit in folding plastic chairs at Simon’s folding plastic table after he closes his laptop. In the awkward silence, I can hear the loud buzz of a drill every few seconds as the crew hangs new drywall.

  “What’re you up to, Jacqueline?” I’m not doing niceties or waiting for her to launch into a practiced speech. I want to throw her off, make sure she knows that we’re not under her thumb and have no problem calling out her game play. She’s come all the way here to talk about something, after all, so may as well not delay.

  She presses her lips together in response but gives in. “The reactions to the fashion shows have been quite exciting. Perhaps you’ve heard?”

  I don’t look at him, but Simon stays quiet, and something Jacqueline sees in his expression must give her pause because her nostrils flare.

  “Or maybe not. But the media buzz has been quite positive. For House Corbin and the designers themselves. Seeing as two of the designers are from America, and New York City’s fall fashion week is soon, I propose that we do a showcase presentation of the three shows’ collections from all five designers, sponsored by House Corbin.”

  “Have you lost your ever-fucking mind?” I snap. My hands flail about as I rant, pointing at her, myself, and then her again. “No way. I own my designs. I’m not letting you get one more bit of recognition from showing them after the way you treated me professionally, and Simon and me personally. You’d rot in your own ancient designs until they disintegrated into tatters around your cold body before I’d work with you again.”

  I hope that makes it clear exactly where I stand.

  Jacqueline takes a sharp breath, her eyes hard marbles as she glares at me. No one speaks to her this way. But I’m not no one, I’m Autumn Fisher of Autumn Fisher Designs, and I’m not doing a damn thing that’ll make Jacqueline Corbin feel I should be indebted to her for whatever success I work for.

  “How . . . graphic. And also, valid,” she allows. “But hear me out. These will be your designs, your creations, and your control . . . much like the previous shows.”

  I raise an arched brow and ask dryly, “Did you seriously just say that?”

  “Other than the last show, I’ll admit,” she says with a reluctant grimace. “The show would simply be sponsored by House Corbin but would highlight the five designers as exceptional individuals in the industry. All recognition would be your own. If you get buyers from the showcase, the orders and customers would be your own. No credit or percentages due to House Corbin.”

  “Why?” Simon asks. He’s shrewd and well-versed on the behind-the-scenes industry norms. “That’s a shitty deal for you.”

  For you. House Corbin.

  He’s not only left his aunt and her company, but he also truly doesn’t feel associated with it anymore. He’s part of Autumn Fisher Designs, through and through. He’s the business director and unofficial emotional support cheerleader when I have freakouts about not being good enough.

  “Perhaps I’m not looking for credit or money. I’m looking for something else.” Jacqueline’s eyes go soft, almost pain-filled, as she looks at Simon.

  Simon

  I’m confused about what my aunt is saying. She’s doing something that’s not for credit or money? That’s completely unlike her.

  I’m certain there’s an angle here. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  The plain answer doesn’t clear things up in the slightest. If anything, I’m more confused. “I’m not coming back to House Corbin or Paris.”

  Taking Autumn’s hand, I make a firm point of where my loyalties lie.

  My aunt looks down at our interwoven hands and returns her gaze to me. “I know. I wouldn’t ask you to. I don’t mean I want you back professionally. In fact, I think it’s quite good for you to spread your wings and see what you’re truly capable of. I think it might surprise us both.” The corners of her lips tilt up in something akin to a smile, but surely, I’m mistaken because that sounded . . . kind? She glances to Albert, who seems to give her some sort of meaningful gaze, but all I see is his neutral-faced blink, as always. Jacqueline turns her attention back to me and seemingly painfully admits, “I mean that I want you, personally. As my nephew again. I want us to be a family again.”

  “Again? I’m not sure we’ve ever been a family, Jacqueline.” The use of her given name is intentional. Though she’s my aunt, I’ve never called her Aunt Jacqueline, or anything more familiar, like Auntie. We don’t have that sort of relationship, and we never have.

  “That’s my fault. I might not have been the best parent . . .” She pauses to give Autumn a cold stare, which Autumn returns in equal force, making me wonder exactly what was said between the two of them the night of the last show. “But I did the best I could to teach you the things I do know—fashion, taste, elegance, the importance of hard work, and how to dream big. How to express love is, unfortunately, not one of the things I was able to teach, though it seems you’ve learned that on your own.”

  Her eyes fall to our hands again, noting the ring shining brightly on Autumn’s fourth finger.

  “I’d like to thank you for that, Autumn.”

  “Uhm . . . I’m not going to say ‘you’re welcome’ for loving Simon because it has nothing to do with you. Especially considering everything you did to try to stop us from being together.”

  My fiery redhead is getting riled up, ready to fight for me—for us—against an icon she admired and the family that should mean a lot to me. It weaves another thread of connection between our hearts, pulling us closer and closer together as one.

  Jacqueline frowns heavily, her brows falling low as she ducks her head. It’s a more broken appearance than I’ve ever seen her wear. “About that. I would like to apologize. I had both of your best interests at heart, but I completely botched everything.”

  “You more than botched, you fucked things up royally. So, apologize.” Autumn holds her hands out wide, giving my aunt the floor.

  “What?” Jacqueline answers. “I did. I did?”

  Autumn laughs mirthlessly. “No, you said you’d like to. Now’s your chance to make like Nike and just do it.”

  After straightening her spine, she clips out, “I am sorry for interfering with your designs and with the two of you.” Surprisingly, it rolls off her tongue like she goes around apologizing on the regular, which I know she definitely does not.

  Maybe that shows how sorry she truly is?

  “Why?” I ask, needing more than an apology. I need to know why she sabotaged Autumn, why she doesn’t want me to be happy . . . why she didn’t love me as a child?

  I would never say that last part aloud, but it’s there, deep inside my wounded heart.

  Jacqueline traces a shape on the tabletop that I can’t decipher—either stalling or collecting her thoughts, I’m not sure which. “I’m not sure how to explain,” she admits.

  “Ramble away. We can follow a muddy path through your storytime confession. Whatever it takes for you to give Simon an answer.”

  Autumn doesn’t need an answer for the sabotage of her collection. She’s let that go and is looking toward the future. With Jacqueline, Autumn’s only concern is me and my feelings. I squeeze her hand tightly so she knows how much I appreciate her.

  “Yes, well . . . I guess . . . when I found out that you were gallivanting all over Paris together, I’ll admit that my first thought was that you’d seduced Simon to improve your chances in the competition.”

  Autumn points to her own ample chest. “Not a gold digger, just so that’s clear.”

  Jacqueline nods, accepting that fact now. “At the time, though, it made sense. It wasn’t the first time.” She looks to me for confirmation, and I grunt in agreement. “There was that idea in my mind. But also, if the reverse were true, that Simon had in fact pursued you” —she flicks her eyes to Autumn this time— “I felt like it would be doing you a disservice. I didn’t want you to be distracted by him and miss out on your opportunity, because I know what something like this could mean to a young designer. I was one once, after all, and recognize how impossible it is to start from nothing and build it into an empire.” She glances at the building we’re trying to do exactly that with. “In that case, you didn’t need anything holding you back.”

  You could knock me over with a feather right now because I’m completely stunned by my aunt’s admission. Autumn seems equally surprised, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows as close to her hairline as they can get.

  “Wait, you were trying to protect Autumn?” I ask, needing to clarify because I must’ve misheard her.

  “Yes, or you? Or both? I don’t know. It just seemed like a dangerous path all around, and if I could stop either of you, or both of you, then things would be . . . alright. That didn’t work, obviously.” She gestures to the two of us. “This is why I’m bad at these things.”

  Autumn hums. “Lemme get this straight. If I’m a gold digger, you wanted to get me out of the picture to protect Simon from my greedy, do-anything-to-win claws. If he’s a man-whore only out for pussy, you wanted to protect me from his magical, dream-killing dick. That about right?”

  Tobias, who’s been sitting so silently that I forgot he was there, much as he mentioned people do, begins to laugh. He covers his mouth with his hand, but he’s snorting loudly, so it’s not particularly helpful. “God, I love Americans and their bluntness.”

  Even Albert seems to be fighting off a laugh. “She’s got you there, Jacqueline.”

  Jacqueline swats at Albert. “You hush,” she says affectionately, making me think he calls her on her shit more often than I’m aware of. At least behind closed doors.

  My aunt finally laughs a bit too, seeming offended but realizing that her actions were pretty over the top. Earnestly, she tells me, “I thought I was doing the right thing. The same as when I took you in all those years ago . . . and when I put you in the best schools I could find to give you every educational opportunity . . . and when I brought you into House Corbin under my wing to teach you everything I know. I’ve tried, Simon.” She’s pleading with me to understand her point of view. “Oh, I’ve tried to be the best family I could for you. I’m just not . . . good at it. I knew when I was a child that I was never meant to be a mother. Other children, my sister especially, would play house. They’d spend hours pretending to cook and clean, with baby dolls on their hips. That was never me. I’d be wrapping curtains around myself to create fabulous gowns.” Her eyes go hazy and shiny, as though she’s looking directly into the past. “But when your mother . . . when she was gone . . . I wanted to honor her, do my best for the child she always wanted so very much. Turns out I was right—I wasn’t meant to be a mother. My best wasn’t nearly good enough. Certainly not as good as she would’ve been.”

  The room goes silent as she rips open wounds I’d rather leave closed, healed over with gross scarring and ugly damage.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” I release Autumn’s hand to reach forward for my aunt’s. This has gone well beyond the competition, into history I think neither of us wants to address. But if my aunt and I are to find a way forward, we need to do so. “I haven’t turned out all that bad, I don’t think, and that’s your doing.”

  My aunt returns my smile with a wavering one of her own. “You think?”

  I nod. “I do. Can you tell me what you mean about my mother, though? We never talked about her, so I thought she . . .” I take a deep breath, fighting for self control. “I thought she didn’t want me and that was why she dropped me off at the orphanage.”

  Jacqueline covers her open mouth with her hands, her eyes wide in surprise at my confession. “Oh, my goodness, non! Non, non . . . she wanted you very much. There was . . .” The lines of her face seem deeper, filled with the torture and agony of the past, but she perseveres, telling me about my mother for the first time. “There was a man. Your father. He was young and sweet, like her. They fell in love, married, had you, and began their life. It was good, for a while. But he began . . .” She trails off, but we have an idea what she means, so she jumps forward in her story. “It wasn’t good then. And your mother needed to get away. She didn’t want to tell anyone in the family how bad things had gotten, and we hadn’t talked to her in so long. Now, I realize it’s because he wouldn’t let her. But then? I thought she’d moved on to this happy new life that was exactly what she’d dreamed of. Selfishly, I was drowning in my own dreams, trying to make House Corbin a reality.”

  She shakes her head, returning her attention to my mother. “She left you at the orphanage with a note that she’d be back soon. They think she was escaping, trying to set up a life for the two of you, but needed to hide you in the interim, I guess? There was a car accident, or at least that’s what they ruled it. I think he ran her off the road, and they both died on impact. I lost my sister and had this tiny, miniature version of her and the man who took her from me, and I was suddenly supposed to be what she was—a mother. But I didn’t know how, so I did . . . my best.”

  Autumn is bawling beside me, and Jacqueline’s stiff upper lip is trembling at the memories assailing her. Even Albert and Tobias are clearing their throats uncomfortably. I reach up to my cheek and find it wet. I’m . . . crying too.

  Over my lost mother, who did love me and didn’t want to leave me.

  Over my childhood that in some ways, took my aunt’s dreams from her.

  Over my own heartbreak at feeling unloved by the two women in my life who did truly love me the best way they knew how.

  “I had no idea,” I whisper.

  “I should’ve told you,” she whispers back.

  Autumn pushes at me, nearly shoving me out of my chair. “Get up and hug her, or I’m going to have to do it, and I’m not getting snot on her jacket. It’s too fabulous for that.”

  I get up to come around the table, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I enfold my aunt in a hug. I know it’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten how thin she truly is. And I don’t think I’ve hugged her when I’ve been taller than she is, even in her power heels.

  How long ago must it have been since we embraced? It must’ve been when I was truly a child, before I was a teen growing inches seemingly overnight.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs into my chest.

  “Me too.”

  We sit back down, and I look to Autumn, silently asking what she thinks about my aunt’s request for a fashion showplace. We have a conversation consisting solely of raised and lowered eyebrows, pursed lips, and smiles.

  Finally, Autumn turns back to Jacqueline. “Okay, I’m in. Fashion week is in two weeks, though, so I’m not sure we can pull a show together by then.”

  Jacqueline smirks, pleased as punch with herself. “I’ve already booked it. Friday night, eight PM.”

  Autumn jumps to her feet, the chair noisily pushing back behind her. “What? That’s Friday night, at eight PM. Like primetime.”

  “Precisely. House Corbin doesn’t do anything small, my dear. Besides, the designs are already completed. They’ll simply need tailoring to New York models, and a bit of . . . repair.” She cringes at that. “I’ll get you anything you need for that.”

  “You bet your ass, you will,” Autumn declares.

  Negotiations made, we look around the table at one another.

  Have we done it? Agreed to a show in two weeks when the studio is a mess? Yep. Made up twenty-five-plus years of anger and hurt in a single conversation? Maybe not fully, but we’ve made considerable progress.

  Tobias says in his worst American accent, “Ain’t family grand?”

  CHAPTER 30

  SIMON

  It’s been eleven days since Jacqueline’s visit, and I’ve barely seen Autumn stand still at this point. She’s been running here and dashing there. She sits in the thankfully now-clean floor to spread out her pieces because we don’t have a table large enough for her to work on, but she says it reminds her of being at FIT and doing work in her tiny, shared studio apartment.