Page 91 of Free to Believe
56
Emily
I’ve been back from Nantucket for about two months. The physical injuries I sustained took a few weeks to heal. I know the emotional scars will be there forever.
Three weeks after I returned, I had to fly to France. In my…obsession with everything on the island, I lost track of time. I forgot it was almost time for me to leave anyway. I had to be in Paris with Lara Fredericks’s wedding gown ready to play stylist. Getting away, even for a week, was good. I was too busy to be brooding about what happened, and I wasn’t home to be missing my normal routine with Mugsy. After helping the new bride through her wedding, I wandered the streets of Paris after and stumbled upon Tissues Reine on the Place Saint-Pierre, an extraordinary fabric store where I purchased bolts of ivory and cream silk and organza to come back with me to the States.
Then the real work began. It’s been nonstop work preparing for my first showing at Fashion Week. I’ve consulted and hired lighting artists, DJs, and caterers for the after-party. While Cisco is contracted to be providing the alcohol—something that I will survive in my frozen state—I’ve left the final decisions on food up to Corinna. I’ve also been working with Caleb, Keene, and Colby on security because nothing can happen to compromise the venue, the dresses, or the models. All of the entrances will be protected by Hudson so I can focus on what will be going on inside.
The setup is unusual for a bridal show. Since bridal gowns are so heavy, I’d have likely chosen somewhere other than the Skylight since the runway is so long, but this may work to my advantage. If the models walk at an average pace, each gown will be able to be seen for almost two minutes before the next makes its way onto the runway. Appreciating more what Barnes was saying about the dealing with Patrick’s location selection is a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. It just means I’ll have to get creative.
I’m dealing with so many details, I don’t have time to think about Jake. No, that’s a lie. I can’t go to sleep without remembering the feel of his arms around me. I still cry into my pillow every night realizing I fell in love with this complex man and he closed me out as surely as if I’d never existed. Doesn’t he realize I was just as devastated by the accident as he was? Doesn’t he understand I love Jenna too?
In the end, I came to the conclusion I was as the hydrangeas he left me the first morning: I was nothing but dead from the moment I was first touched.
It’s a cold realization to accept my future holds barely a whisper of the things I imagined in it. Sure, I’ll have my family, but I will never have a family. I’ll accept love, but I will never go looking for love again. I’ll never put someone else through that danger, that pain.
Desperately wishing Mugsy were still alive to snuggle, I pull mounds of blankets tighter around me. They’re a poor substitute for the last warm body that lay in this bed with me. As I drift off to sleep, I wonder if there’s ever been a case of someone dying from a frozen heart.
Or if I’ll be the first case.
* * *
I’ve barredoff my part of the mansion for anything but urgent interruptions. My show is a month away, and I have three days to finalize my designs. This will barely leave me enough time to get them completed in time. Even though I feel like my soul is supposed to be on display for the whole world to see, it doesn’t matter anymore. My soul is as blank as the paper in front of me.
Glaring down at my sketchbook, a sudden unwelcome flood of emotions fills me. I heave my sketchbook across the room. The charcoals I’d laid in the crease fly in every direction. Even as they land with a gentleplunkagainst the hardwood floors, tears burn in the back of my eyes.
Damnit, it shouldn’t be this hard to live in a world when you’re already dead.
I scrub my eyes with my fingers when I hear a hesitant voice from behind me. “Em? I was told it was okay to come in.”
Turning, I see Holly standing in the doorway. I open my mouth to speak and instead burst into tears. My body heaves with uncontrollable sobs I can’t rein in. I’ve been holding in the trauma for months, pretending it was just another breakup.
What a time for the pain to unleash.
Holly races forward. “Men are so damn stupid. I swear to God, Em.” Her arms wrap tightly around me as the emotional dam finally bursts.
“I…I…” Stuttering, I start over. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to unload on you. I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Screw that.”
Taking a deep breath, I wipe the tears with fingers smeared with charcoal. “He…he told me what he thought of me. He made his decision. Now I’m the one who has to live with it.”
Pulling me, she drags me over to my chaise. “Are you?”
“Am I what?” I’m confused.
“Living. Since Jake…ended things.”
Lifting my chin pugnaciously, I lie as convincingly as I can. “Of course. Didn’t I get to travel to France a few weeks ago? For some people, that’s more than just living.”
“Where apparently, you bought the most amazing fabric we’ve ever seen that you haven’t done a damn thing with,” she retorts.
That stings. “I’ve been working.”
“Let me the sketches, then,” she demands.
I glare at her. “No one sees them until they’re done.”
