Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The pressure was intense, especially for an emerging designer like Emmy making her New York Fashion Week debut with her Emmy in Bloom collection.
Every detail had to be flawless before models stepped onto the runway.
Mitch had allowed her to show three of her designs.
She’d never told him about the paternity test, which was a good thing, because when she’d opened the results, she’d cried on the phone with her dad, overwhelmed that her father was James Brewer.
In her father’s dream, her mother had said, “Emmy needs to know where she really comes from.” If that truly had been her mother, perhaps that message had actually been for her father. Now, his fear was no more.
But in Emmy’s work, Mitch was very much a father figure. She learned from him, listened to him, and enjoyed working by his side. He saw the best in her, which had done wonders for her self-esteem and helped her create her very best work.
Dressers and production teams at Emmy’s command buzzed around with military-like precision to keep the show running smoothly. She pressed her headset against her ear to hear over the commotion.
“Get Stella at her mark,” the team member said. He gave the hand signal, and the model pulled away from final fluffs of her garment and took her place, her long legs poised to march down the runway.
Before her first model took the stage, photographers and Harlow and Ash’s social media team captured behind-the-scenes moments, adding to the electric energy.
The music pulsed and the spotlight danced across the runway as stylists rushed over one last time to perfect the model’s hair and makeup.
Emmy made final adjustments while the other models quickly changed outfits, with only minutes between looks.
The audience buzzed with anticipation. Before the show, people caught up with each other, analyzed past collections, and interviewers guessed what they were about to see while their camera crew caught all the action.
Influencers and journalists recorded, and photographers took pictures of the runway and front-row attendees—New York’s most influential guests.
Top celebrities and major buyers were placed in prime seating with the best views.
A hush fell over the crowd, the silence filled with the clicking of camera shutters.
Unlike concerts or sports events, NYFW crowds were generally reserved, but a particularly stunning look or celebrity model appearance could spark gasps of approval. Emmy sent out Stella, her first model, and just like that, her design was featured at Fashion Week.
Representatives from Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Elle were frantically taking notes for their pieces on upcoming trends. They were scribbling like crazy as Emmy’s model went down the platform splitting the crowd.
The flurry of activity continued, and Emmy tore her eyes from the audience to focus on her next model.
But just before she turned around, she caught sight of a group of people who didn’t fit in with the other onlookers.
At the back, her entire family was waving madly.
She blew them a kiss and then quickly checked over her next model.
At the end of the show, Emmy and Mitch joined the Harlow and Ash team and walked down the aisle and bowed. Emmy’s dad whooped and fist pumped from the back, giving Emmy a rush of happiness.
After the show, she got caught in a throng of reporters.
“Could we ask you a few questions?” One of the reporters held a microphone at her chin. “What was the inspiration behind the Emmy in Bloom collection?”
“It was my way of showcasing my emergence into the design world. I’ve always had an eye for creating, but it needed to bloom before it could truly emerge. I take quite a bit of inspiration from my mother.”
“Your designs are creating such a buzz—did you expect this kind of reaction?” the reporter asked.
“I had no idea that my scribbles would become this,” she replied.
Another interviewer pushed forward. “There’s already talk about how you’re redefining fashion norms. Was that intentional?”
“I just design from the heart. How people receive it is out of my hands.”
“Some say your pieces are more like statements than clothes—how do you respond to that?”
“My goal is to make bold statements on wearable clothes. I hope I’ve achieved that.”
“What can we expect next? Any secrets you can share with us?”
“Oh, I’ve got a big surprise up my sleeve.”
The cameras went off, momentarily blinding her. “Would you like to elaborate on that, Emmy?” The voices trailed away, and the reporters swarmed Mitch as Emmy ran over to meet her family, throwing her arms around each one of them.
“Wow, you’re famous,” Madison said.
Emmy shook her head. “Nah. Just the highlight of the moment.”
Her father smiled proudly. “You’re a natural.”
“I know. I can’t imagine doing anything other than this. It’s where I belong.”
Madison gave her another side hug. “I’m so happy for you. I’m surprised Charlie isn’t here.”
“I know. He couldn’t come. He had back-to-back fishing tours booked.”
“That’s a bummer,” Uncle Brian said.
“It’s okay.” She did wish he could’ve seen the show, but she understood that he had his own career to manage. “I can’t wait to show you all my new apartment,” she said, locking arms with Madison as they all left the venue.
“Think we could fit everyone in there for Christmas this year?” Madison asked.
Emmy frowned. “I doubt it, but I’m not renewing the lease anyway.”
“Why not? You just got it,” her dad said.
Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Elsie shared confused but interested looks.
“I promise to fill you all in, but not yet.”
“I can’t wait to hear,” Aunt Charlotte said.
Madison leaned into her ear. “If you won’t tell us, have you told Charlie your plans?”
“I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want to say anything to him until I have everything signed, sealed, and delivered.”
When they got to her apartment, a delivery man with a bouquet of three dozen red roses was knocking on her door.
“Emmy Brewer?”
She looked wide-eyed at her family before addressing the delivery person. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’ll need your signature for these.”
“Of course.” She took the pen and signed his clipboard.
He gave her an envelope and then handed over the bouquet.
She let everyone into her airy new apartment and set the bouquet on the table. She plucked the card from between the blooms. “It’s from Charlie. How sweet of him to send this.”
While her family looked on, she opened the envelope and read the message aloud: “Open the door—Charlie.”
There was a collective gasp, and Aunt Elsie threw her hand to her chest.
Emmy rushed back to the entrance and flung the door wide to find Charlie standing in the hallway. She threw her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
“I know it’s not quite Valentine’s Day, but I wanted to be here for your special day too. I saw the show. I didn’t want to distract you… You were amazing.”
Elation tickled her from head to toe. “You saw it?”
He nodded. “Mm-hm.”
“What a surprise,” Aunt Charlotte said, clapping her hands.
“Speaking of surprise, I’ve got one last surprise for you.” He handed her another envelope.
She opened it and gasped when she pulled out two plane tickets. Emmy threw her hand over her mouth. “Paris?”
“Yep.”
“That’s only two months away.”
“I secretly checked with Mitch. He’s given you the time off.”
Madison cooed under her breath.
“This is unbelievable,” Emmy said, hugging the tickets to her chest.
“I’m keeping my word from that day in the airport. I was serious about wanting to take my next flight with you. I did have to take one in between to get here, but that doesn’t count.”
Emmy reached out, squeezed his neck, and kissed him to the cheers of her family.
She had something to tell him, but she’d wait until Paris. Hanging onto this secret without spilling the beans would be the most work she’d done all year.