Chapter 18 Sienna
EIGHTEEN
SIENNA
SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER
“How is it possible that you still don’t have answers? It’s been over a year,” Millie whines as the doorman at Langfield Corp ushers us inside. Millie, my former assistant and good friend, is now my sister-in-law. She and Gavin had the most gorgeous ceremony by the water three years ago.
I tug my jacket tighter around me, like it’ll help me hide from the lies I’ve been weaving for the past year.
I’m still too much of a coward to tell my family what I did.
The agreement is ironclad. I’ve already signed away my right to design again.
If my brothers knew, they’d try to find a way to undo it. They’d try to fix it for me.
I don’t want their help. I’ve come to terms with the end of my career. It hurts to know that I’ll never design clothing again, but I’m moving on.
Or I’m trying to, at least. Though it’s been a challenge, coming to terms with the reality that I can never do the only thing I’ve ever truly been good at.
I’m no longer allowed to be the only thing I’ve ever aspired to be.
I can’t have the career I’ve worked my ass off for.
The career I sacrificed everything for, including my social life, time with my family, and love.
I swallow hard on that last word. The only time I ever felt anything even close to love was so long ago, and so fleeting, that it’s quite possible I imagined it.
Six years. How the fuck has it been six years?
Affecting the most impassive expression, I hit the button to summon the elevator. “Things take longer in Europe.”
Millie settles a hand on her stomach while we wait. She and Gavin have a daughter, Vivi, who’s almost five, and they recently announced that she’s pregnant with their second child. As difficult as it was to leave Paris, I’m glad I won’t miss the birth of another one of my siblings’ children.
There are a lot of them now.
Beckett and Liv have five children. The oldest three, Winnie, Finn, and Addie, are not his by blood, but he loves them more than just about any parent could love a child. He fell as hard for Liv’s kids as he did for her. The youngest girls, June and Maggie, are only a few months younger than Vivi.
Then there’s sweet baby Taylor, the little girl Sara and Brooks welcomed just last week.
Aiden married his high school sweetheart, Lennox, but they haven’t decided whether they want kids.
I get it. I’m undecided too. I love my nieces and nephews more than life itself, but I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to be a mother.
Mine has never been very maternal. Maybe not having that role model is part of it.
Though it’s likely because for my whole life, I’ve only ever wanted to be a fashion designer.
Though that’s over now, so who knows how I’ll feel about kids as time goes on.
I’ve yet to find a job in Boston. Probably because I’ve yet to bother looking.
For the first few months, I traveled. Then, when I couldn’t avoid my brothers anymore, I begrudgingly moved back into my parents’ house.
In the months since then, I’ve done a lot of yoga and spent quite a bit of time with my family.
I’ve also been on far more dates that I wasn’t aware were dates thanks to Beckett and his meddling ways.
Recently, I’ve become my mother’s pet project. I think it’s caught up with her, how little time she spent with us when we were kids, now that my father is retired and their business and social obligations have dwindled.
My brothers are all successful and happily married, while I’m single at almost thirty, and my company is in shambles.
I’ve gone from the most sought-after fashion designer in the world to a pariah in the industry.
My name is whispered like an infectious disease.
The only person still working in fashion who hasn’t turned her back on me is Cat, but I’ve kept my distance.
The last thing I want is for her to be sucked into the nasty rhetoric by association.
If I’m not careful, she’ll go toe to toe with the naysayers. My brothers all would too. But I’ve made peace with my decision. Now it’s time for everyone else to get on board with it.
As if I’ve summoned my mother, my phone lights up with a message from her.
Mom: Have you heard about maple season in Vermont? There is a spa near the Berkshire family compound. I could schedule appointments for maple facials and pedicures and wraps! Then we could go on a tour and watch how they make it. What do you think? Want to get out of town for a few days?
With a groan, I jam my phone into my pocket.
I need a job. Then I’d have an excuse to say no to jet-setting around with her like a stereotypical heiress to do absolutely nothing in the middle of the freaking woods.
I lived in Paris for five years. I thrived there.
What makes her think spending time in nature would be appealing to me?
If she understood me at all, she’d know that it sounds like my worst nightmare.
Or maybe my second worst, since I’m currently living my worst nightmare.
Like I said, I need a job.
“Do you need a nanny?” I ask Millie as the elevator ascends to the floor where Liv’s office is located.
She snorts, bringing her hand to her mouth a second too late to stifle it.
I glare at her.
“I’m sorry.” She holds up her hands. “It’s just that after a five-minute conversation with Vivi, you’re usually itching for a martini.”
I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. “I love Vivi.”
My best friend tilts her head, silently calling me out on my bullshit.
“Fine,” I huff. “I do love Vivi, but I can only talk about what Barbie wants for breakfast for so long.”
“I get it.” She chuckles. “Which is why you’d make a terrible nanny.”
She’s right. I do need an excuse to avoid my mother, though. And I need a task to keep myself busy.
We step out of the elevator, and she leads me down the hall toward Liv’s office, her brown curls bouncing. Liv asked me to meet her here before lunch, and Millie wanted to pop by to visit Gavin.
Halfway down the hall, my phone buzzes again. This time, though, it’s not my mother. This message is from the other woman who won’t leave me alone.
Cat: You can’t avoid me forever. Meet me for drinks at Allure. It’s super private. No one will overhear us. Maybe then I can talk you into getting out there again too.
With a sigh, I pocket the device again. I have no intention of doing any such thing.
Garreth is her brother-in-law, and she’s one of very few people who knew about my relationship with him. And she’s too damn smart for her own good. She knows how I sabotaged said relationship, just like I sabotaged my career.
But getting out there again? No thanks. I’m beginning to think I’m not cut out for love. Maybe I’ll stick to being the fun aunt. Or not, since according to Millie, I’m not even good at that.
I wince at the thought. She’s not wrong. I definitely do better with the older kids than the younger ones.
Though relationships and kids are out, I can’t help but crave something of my own.
A reason to get out of bed in the morning.
A distraction from the journal in my nightstand.
The one that haunts me. The one I used to doodle in daily.
A distraction from the concern that I’ll never again feel the itch of excitement that used to take over the minute I put pencil to paper.
That the magic that once flowed through me no longer exists.
I shake out my hands, sloughing off the sensation. The move exposes the turquoise butterfly inked on the inside of my wrist, catching my attention, and my heart pangs.
It’s been six years, and I can still hear the murmured lies of the man I can’t forget, no matter how hard I try.
You’re going to do amazing things, butterfly. You’re going to soar. I can’t wait to see what you do with this life. And I’m going to find you again.
He never found me. I didn’t soar. And this tattoo is a permanent reminder of my na?veté. More than once, I’ve considered covering it with another design. Thinking of that man and that weekend and my hopeless romanticism—more like sheer stupidity—hurts more that I’ll ever admit.
The what-ifs and the maybes are the work of the devil.
If I’d given him my number back then, we probably would have talked once or twice, then drifted apart naturally.
Our connection would be as dead as my career is now.
Instead, I let myself believe in fate. I came up with this romanticized notion that fate kept us apart, and therefore it wasn’t my fault that we never had a shot.
But the chance that a man I shared one hot weekend with could be my soulmate?
Yeah, that’s the stuff of romance novels. Of nineties rom-coms.
Fortunately, I am no longer na?ve enough to believe in love or second chances.
These days, I am chock-full of sarcasm and jaded self-deprecation. Maybe under the right circumstances, those qualities would work on a résumé.
“Sienna.” Beckett steps out of an office down the hall, and Gavin appears a second after.
“Hey, Peaches.” Gavin pulls his wife to him in a sweet display of their disgustingly perfect romance and plants a kiss on her lips that has her melting into him. “You girls are going to lunch, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, “but Liv asked me to come see her before we go.”
Beckett folds his arms across his chest and smirks. “Did she now?”
His cocky attitude makes my stomach sink. “What do you know?” I demand, eyes narrowed. “If it’s another date, I swear…”
He’s driving me crazy. The man thinks he’s a modern-day Hello Dolly, matching couples left and right.
Except I don’t want to be matched. Especially not with any of the men he’s been tossing my way. I swear the guys he forces on me don’t even want to date.
“Beckett,” Liv calls from her office, her tone stern.
His expression sobers instantly. “Coming, Livy.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and drags me with him. “She won’t yell if you’re with me.”
I snort, batting him away. “She totally will.”