Page 142 of When Hearts Surrender

“Belle? Hey, Belle!”

Grace’s voice jolts me from my thoughts, and I rub my arms, trying to warm myself up.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous about the show.”

“You’ll do great. Didn’t your boss say the pieces came out awesome? It’s a huge accomplishment, having three pieces in the fashion show.”

I strain a smile, my mind still reeling from the dream or nightmare that felt so devastatingly real.

“Fingers crossed the public likes it. It’ll prove my talent as a designer…that I’m much more than my last name,” I murmur, staring at the dark runway.

“You’ve won me over already, if your designs are anything like the vibe I’m getting here. Very gothic and dark, but romantic at the same time.” Taylor crosses her arms, her black nails flashing under the dim lighting.

I won’t be backstage for this fashion show, as Fiona and her senior designers have that covered. But if the show goes well and my pieces are well received, I may have a place on the go team next season.

“I wonder if he’ll show up.” I pinch myself.Dammit. I’m moving on from him, my husband. Don’t think about him.

But I still can’t bring myself to sign the divorce papers.

However, that doesn’t mean I’m finished being angry at him. If he wants to be brave and face the so-called curse together, he can come find me. And even then, I’ll have my reservations about him.

Millie nudges Taylor on the side and Taylor frowns before tugging on Grace’s sleeve. The three are doing their silent communication thing again, and it’s getting on my nerves. Heck, I’m still technically married and an Anderson.

“What are you guys keeping from me now?” I mutter.

Taylor grimaces. “Sorry. There’s something you don’t know—”

“Tay! He told us not to tell her!” Grace shoves her sister on the side.

“Ow!” Taylor nudges Grace back. “Look, girl code over bro code, even if the bro in question is related to us. And Ineveragreed with him. Sheshouldknow!”

Alarm rings through me as the dread comes rearing back. “What happened? It’s Maxwell, isn’t it? Something happened to him? Tell me!”

Taylor grabs my hand, which is alarming in and of itself since the woman doesn’t like to be touched. “Okay, don’t freak out. Maxwell got into a bad accident a few nights ago. He was driving, but the roads were slick and he slammed into a guardrail.”

My heart plummets to the ground and I get up, suddenly forgetting I’m angry at him, not caring the fashion show is about to start.

I need to see him, to see if he’s fine.

To see if he has blood on his chest like that horrible dream.

That was a dream, Belle. A dream.

“He’s fine,” Millie whispers urgently. “He got really lucky. The car is totaled, but he left with some bruised ribs and cuts. He has been a mess since he left you, Belle.”

Tears spring into my eyes, and I fan myself with my hand. I want to be by his side right now.

“He has to be the brave one this time. He needs to understand even if he’s afraid, we’re in a relationship and we need to make decisions together.”

“He’s just afraid for your life,” Grace murmurs, throwing her arm around me.

“I know. That’s why I don’t hate him for it. I know he did it from a place of love.” I look at my friends, my vision blurry with tears. “But I won’t live my life in fear. Fear of accidents, curses, what-ifs. Year of yeses, right?”

Taylor nods and pats my leg. “Damn straight. Fearless badass bitch over here. Let him come to you.”

The lights flicker off and the room plunges into darkness. The music increases in volume—an opera singer sings an eerie melody. The wrought iron chandeliers—relics in this historical building on the Upper East Side—turn on, the dim light casting serpentine shadows to the arched ceilings.

White smoke, backlit by strategic spotlights, blanket the runway, lending to an otherworldly atmosphere. Models pass through the gothic archway at the entrance of the stage, which is adorned in faux ivy and dark roses, all a nod to the theme tonight—Eternal Reverie.

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