揑 should have told you about it. Possibly when you insinuated I didn抰 earn Haute.?
I wince. 揑抦 an ass sometimes.?
揝ometimes??
I set my food down on the coffee table and move closer to her. I tilt her head up and trace my thumb across her bottom lip. 揝carlett.?Her name is my favorite word in the English language. I love saying it. Caressing the syllables.
I抦 about to kiss her when she asks, 揥here were you last night??
揗y old place. Alone.?
She holds my gaze. 揙kay.?
揥ould it bother you? If I hadn抰 been??
揧es.?
I smile. 揋ood.?
For the first time, all our steps feel forward.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SCARLETT
揗orning.?I smile at Leah and Andrea as I step off the elevator.
揗or梞orning,?Leah stutters, then looks to Andrea. 揇id you, um, did you not get my message??
揂bout the delay with the delivery??I glance down at my phone to respond to a text from my mother. She抯 still been badgering me about dinner. 揑 saw it. I requested they send everything straight to the park. We should still be on schedule.?
揙kay. Great.?When I look up, Andrea and Leah are exchanging surprised looks.
I hide a smile. They抮e both probably wondering why I抦 in such a good mood. 揑 just have to grab a few things from my office and then I抣l head over there. Everything else is on schedule, right??
Andrea nods. 揑抣l see you both at one.?
I head into my office. The samples I was supposed to look through last night are hanging from a portable rack. Leaving by eight every night has cut into my productivity. I抦 more happy about that than I ever imagined being.
I didn抰 realize how unbalanced my life was until Crew straightened the scales. My drive to make Haute梐nd now rouge梥uccessful bled into everything else. Dedicating every thought and decision to that goal is the reason the photoshoot today in Central Park will feature the hottest designers, most talented photographers, and most coveted models. It抯 a point of pride梩he pinnacle of my identity outside of being Crew Kensington抯 wife. But it抯 not a title I feel the urge to separate myself from as much as I used to. Crew is someone I抦 proud to be attached to.
As I flip through each sample, I type up my comments and send them to the design team. I read through the article submissions for the next issue. Photos for the cover get flagged based on preference. And then I leave for the shoot.
Central Park is more crowded than I抦 expecting. I rarely am out and about in the city during daylight hours梐t least on a weekday. Joggers and families fill the winding paths that I weave through on my quest toward the carousel, where the shoot is set to take place.
Set-up has only just begun when I arrive. The area is being cordoned off as props and cameras are strategically placed. I confirm there are no issues and then take a seat on a nearby bench.
A few emails have already piled up. I answer them all, and then let my finger hover over Crew抯 name. He抯 probably busy.
Things are good between us right now梤eally good梐nd I抦 scared to trust it. Just because things feel stable doesn抰 mean they抣l stay this way. I saw how quickly his favor can shift during the debacle with Nathaniel.
Sexual attraction isn抰 an enigma to me. It抯 everything else: the way we抮e both home by eight, the fact we sleep in the same bed, the two percent milk in the fridge. They symbolize things I thought we抎 never be.
I抳e accepted it, embraced it even. But that抯 different from relying on it. Perpetuating it. If it disappears, it will be that much harder to revert back to what our relationship used to look like.
I shut my phone off and focus on my surroundings. The lighting team is still getting set up by the carousel, so I people watch instead. Few people bother to glance over at the scene taking place off the path. Most are joggers or walkers. Frazzled moms or babysitters promising ice cream to screaming kids. One woman passes me with six dogs pulling her along. She stops at the bench next to mine and proceeds to tie them up to the metal armrest one by one. She manages to secure five. The sixth is a puppy with floppy ears, large paws, and fluffy golden fur. It can抰 stop getting tangled up in its leash.
The woman lets out an exasperated huff. 揋oldie! Hold still!?
揑 can hold him for you.?The words are out without any conscious decision on my part. I抦 a typical New Yorker. With the exception of my stints at boarding school, I抳e lived on the Upper East Side my whole life. I don抰 stop and talk to strangers; I stride past them like I抦 chasing the gold in a speed-walking competition.
A grateful smile erases any chance of taking the words back. 揜eally? That would be great. Thank you!?The woman, who looks to be in her late twenties, takes a couple of steps closer and hands the green leash to me. The puppy immediately turns its attention to me, alternating between licking my leg and sniffing my shoes.