Page 2 of Just My Style

With a sigh, I carry Fisher to the window and gaze at the Atlantic Ocean. It’s a beautiful, sunshiny day, and the water in the distance sparkles like diamonds. “There’s a great, big world waiting for you out there, Fish Stick. And your Auntie Cara will take you wherever you want to go,” I promise. “You just have to learn to walk first.”

Margo laughs. “He’ll be toddling around in six months or so, but you may want to wait a while before taking him along to photoshoots in Paris or Madrid or whatever exotic locale you happen to be flying to this week.”

“Central Mexico,” I tell her. “The theme of the photoshoot is Aztec gold.”

“Gold?” Margo’s eyes widen. She loves it when I do advertising campaigns with expensive jewelry. “Who’s the client?”

“I can’t tell you yet. I signed a nondisclosure agreement.” My mouth tilts into a smile at the pouty look she gives me. “But I will say it’s a major jewelry designer, and it’s an ongoing campaign. They’ll keep me busy with work for the next two years, shooting in various locations across the globe.”

She whistles. “So, you’ll be swimming in a pool of cash like Scrooge McDuck?”

“Not quite,” I say with a laugh.

But almost.

If all goes according to plan, this may be my last job. As one of the world’s top hand models, I have a comfortable life, and I’ve set aside a nice nest egg. But I’m not getting any younger. At thirty-seven years old, my time in the business is running out. My hands will start to show their age soon, and I’ll no longer be hired to showcase luxury items like expensive jewelry and handbags. I’ll be lucky to get work pouring liquid onto maxi-pads for feminine hygiene ads.

But this gig offers job security for the next two years—and it pays very well. When this assignment is over, I’ll be able to retire from modeling. Then maybe I can focus on the things my heart so desperately desires: love, marriage, and a family of my own.

I’d give anything to have a good man look at me the way Margo’s husband looks at her. When she and Tuck are in the same room, you can practically feel the sparks flying between them. Even now that they’re sleep-deprived parents of infant twins, they can’t keep their eyes off each other.

They are as different as two people can possibly be. A person need only look at their respective businesses to see that. Margo lives for fashion and style, and she owns Sticks & Stones Boutique. Tuck, on the other hand, owns The Bait Bucket, the local bait and tackle shop, and his wardrobe consists of worn jeans and faded t-shirts. But they’re absolutely perfect for each other.

I’ve never had what they have—and probably never will. Their love is special. But a girl can dream.

Margo walks over to stand next to me by the window. “Are you sure you can’t stay for a few more days? Hank Heron Appreciation Week starts tomorrow. It’s going to be lots of fun.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Did you say ‘Hank Heron?’”

She grins. “He’s Friendly’s favorite great blue heron. Tuck’s nineteen-year-old nephew, Jared, and Jared’s biological dad, Victor, are the founders of the Hank Heron Foundation. It’s an environmental group that protects shore birds and other local wildlife. This week, there’s going to be lots of awesome stuff to do. Bike tours, paddle tours, a sandcastle competition, and a parade…” Her voice trails off as she looks at me hopefully.

“I wish I could stay longer, Margo,” I say honestly. “But I need to be in Mexico tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she says with a resigned sigh. “Go to Mexico. Drape yourself in gold. But next time you’re here, you have to make time to meet Victor.”

“Jared’s dad? Why?”

A smile dances on her lips. “Because he’s kind, generous, smart, rich, handsome, and single.”

I laugh. “There’s no way he’s all those things. Admit it; he’s dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Nope. He’s a doctor. A world-renowned surgeon. He moved to Friendly last year when he discovered he had a son. Now, he’s working as a general practitioner and is the only doctor on the island.”

I stare at her in mock outrage. “And you haven’t introduced me yet? I thought you were my friend!”

She laughs. “You’ll have to stay longer than a weekend next time.”

I scoff. “If he’s as awesome as you say, I’m sure Prince Charming will be taken by my next visit.”

Fisher wraps his hand around a long strand of my hair, yawns, and rests his head on my shoulder. I rock him gently until he falls asleep. A pang of regret pierces my heart. I’ve travelled the world, met fascinating people, and enjoyed a life full of fun and adventure.

But at what cost?

“Here,” Margo whispers, holding out her arms for her little boy. “I’ll put him in the crib with his sister. He sleeps better when he’s near her. It’s a twin thing.”

I hand him over, instantly missing the warmth of his little body in my arms. I follow Margo to the nursery, but she freezes in the doorway.

“Well, I guess you get to tell Hildy goodbye, after all,” she says, shaking her head.

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