Page 5 of Parker
I shrug. “Say it anyway.”
She exhales slowly. “He didn’t cheat on you, Nicky. It’s in your head. He’s devastated. Probably more than you.”
My throat tightens. “How would you know? Have you been having heart-to-hearts with him? Watch out, he might have you on your back next.”
Her face hardens, eyes flaring. “Yes, I’ve spoken to him. Because he’s worried about you. Because he wanted to know you were safe.”
She leans forward, every word that follows sharp. “He’s crazy about you, Nicky. Always has been. Always will be. And you threw it away because you assumed the worst. He didn’t do what you think he did. Especially not with her. She’s like family.”
I say nothing.
Sophie softens, the anger ebbing. “I love you. But if you keep jumping to conclusions, you’re going to burn everything down. I know what happened before made it hard to trust. But Joel…” She trails off.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I snap, coldly. “That night has nothing to do with my failed marriage.” Tears fill my eyes and start to run down my face. I’m angry at Sophie for questioningme, and angry at myself for almost believing her. My marriage has not been lost on a whim or imagined scenario.
I wouldn’t have been so stupid.
“Nicky,” she says, taking my hands in hers as my sobs reduce to sniffles. “I want you to be okay, but I can’t keep rescheduling my life every time you crash out. You need to move forward. It’s been months. It’s time for you to take charge of your future.”
She presses a kiss to my forehead, squeezes my fingers, then stands and walks out.
I stare at the closed door; the silence wrapping around me. Maybe this is my new normal.
Chapter two
Parker Fashion House, Glasgow
Nicky
Parker Fashion sits tucked inside an old mansion in the west end of the city. From the outside, it looks like a normal residential property, but inside is a shrine to all things fashion. Here, they design and create exclusive outfits for the rich and famous, and nothing has a price tag below ten thousand pounds. You will see their creations on the red carpet at every high-end celebrity event across the world. Cameras are banned. Phones surrendered. Secrets stitched into every seam.
For the six years I was with Joel, this place was my second home. I started by sweeping cuttings off the floor, all his mother would trust me to do. But as the years passed, I became competent with a pencil, then a sewing machine. My talent and love for design made me the most in-demand stylist at the fashion house, working with everyone from Oscar winners to royals.
Someone has locked the heavy iron gates, as usual. I swipe my entry card, and the pad flashes red.Access denied. Not surprising, but it stings. Finally, I press the buzzer. The phone rings, and Louise, the receptionist, answers.
“Welcome to Parker Fashion. Please identify yourself.”
I can imagine her sitting at her desk with a long red fingernail poised to cut off the unwanted visitor. The house allows very few people entry. Fashion is a ruthless business?competitors are always trying to steal each other’s ideas.
“Nicola Smith. I’m here to see Joel Parker.” I take a breath, steeling myself for rejection.
“Nicky? What are you doing here?” Her voice drops to a whisper, as if she doesn’t want to be overheard. “You know, Madam Parker won’t let you in here. Go home.”
“Just tell Joel I’m here, Louise. Please,” I plead, cringing at my whiny tone.
She groans. “Okay, hold on a minute, and I’ll try.”
The intercom goes silent. After a few minutes, the gates swing open. The security guard tries to stop me from entering the building, but Louise comes to my rescue.
“Joel said you have five minutes,” she whispers as she escorts me inside.
Joel said he would see me. This is a good sign. My heels click on the highly polished floor as I walk along the corridor to his office. It feels strange being an outsider here. This building has been such a huge part of my life.
I miss this place.
I miss my job.
I miss my life.
