Chapter 29
The next day, I’m ready to stop sulking. I need to move on, and that means putting Marry Me behind me. I know they want me to come back for the next season, but I don’t want the constant reminder, so I’m going to get a new job. Now. Today.
I put on my best professional outfit, a white and navy sailor-inspired pants suit that I designed myself, and march into Couture Dubois’s LA office armed with my résumé and portfolio. By some miracle, Antoinette Dubois agrees to see me.
She stands when I enter her office and greets me with a warm smile. “Vivian. Hello.” She rounds her desk and holds out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I shake her hand and pray my palm isn’t sweaty. I’m so nervous.
Antoinette is a couple years younger than her sister and seems a little softer somehow. Is it her years of living in the States as opposed to France? Is it the fact that she’s married and a mother? Still, softer or not, she looks amazing—so put together and fashionable. I admire her instantly.
She stands there for a moment and eyes me from head to toe. She twirls her finger, motioning for me to spin. I turn in a circle slowly and hold my breath as I wait for her assessment. After a short pause, she smiles. “That’s a lovely outfit.”
“Thank you.”
“Yours?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods in approval and heads behind her desk, gesturing toward one of the chairs in front of it. “Take a seat.”
I sit down and try not to shift nervously in my chair. I’m a fidgeter. I clasp my hands in my lap to keep them still.
Antoinette gets right down to business. “May I see your portfolio?”
I take a deep breath and hand over the showcase of all my best work along with a copy of my résumé. Antoinette scans the résumé first, then starts slowly flipping through the pictures in my portfolio. “I’ve been expecting you,” she says absently as she studies each of my creations. “My sister is not easily impressed, but she had wonderful things to say about you. She said you have a unique style and an eye for design. She told me about the gowns you made for the charity ball.”
I’m speechless. Marguerite Dubois was actually talking me up to her sister? I have to clear my throat before I can speak, but my voice comes out steady when I say, “There are pictures of those gowns in the back of the book there. They were all princess-inspired to go with the theme of the ball.”
Antoinette flips to the last few pages of the portfolio to study the gowns. She smiles. “I wish I could have been there. I had a family emergency that week and had to send my sister in my place, but I was so looking forward to it.” Her eyes lift to me. “She told me you had a hand in putting the event together?”
I’m surprised by the question, but answer her easily. “My best friend Ella and I organized it together.”
“Must have been a lot of work.”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this.“It was quite the undertaking,” I admit.
“And you still found time to design and make five gowns, all while working a day job?”
I gulp. She’s friendly and yet still so intimidating. “Yes, ma’am. I’m good with time management, but it also helps to be passionate about both ventures.”
“And most of your experience is in film? I hear the hours can get a bit crazy.”
I laugh. “More than just a bit.”
She closes my portfolio and looks me over again. “This business can get as crazy as film. We have deadlines and have to work long hours during our busy seasons. Some traveling would be required, and there is pressure. This job can be very stressful, and you’ll have to deal with constructive criticism. Can you listen to feedback? Are you willing to learn? As a junior designer, you’re still basically an apprentice. It’s a bit like starting at the bottom. You’ll assist the lead designers more than you’ll be doing your own designs. Though, that’s not to say you won’t be given the chance to prove yourself. Is that something you could live with?”
My heart starts to race. Is she really considering hiring me? It kind of sounds that way. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been taking direction my entire life. Aside from my time in fashion design school, I also dance ballet, so I’m used to critiques and taking instruction. I’m used to the pressure as well. Auditions, competitions, and, of course, working on some of the large film productions I have, there is always some crisis or another that needs solving at a moment’s notice. I don’t mind starting at the bottom. I would love nothing more than to be able to learn from the best, and your designers are the best. I recently got to spend a couple of hours with your sister, and I was in awe of her knowledge.”
Antoinette laughs. “Yes, she mentioned you asked a million questions and soaked up everything she said like a sponge.”
I blush, but Antoinette smiles at me. “That’s the type of passion we look for at Couture Dubois.”
“I am passionate,” I promise. “And hard-working. I will give you 110 percent all the time.”
“I believe you will.” Her smile grows, making her eyes twinkle. “Very well, you’ve got the job, Miss Euling.”
I gasp. I can’t help it. I can’t believe it. An embarrassing squeak escapes me that makes Antoinette laugh. My face turns bright red. “I’m sorry. I’m just so excited. This is a dream come true. Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.”
I’m on cloud nine as we wrap up the interview. I’m a junior designer for one of the biggest fashion labels in the world. And I’d thought Marry Me was the opportunity of a lifetime. I wish Sebastian were here so I could give him a huge hug. If it weren’t for him setting up that meeting with Marguerite in France, I might not have gotten the job. I wish I could tell him my news and thank him.
A pang of regret stabs me in the heart. I miss him. It’s been less than a week, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop wishing he was here. I thought the hurt would go away quickly since I barely knew him, but it hasn’t lessened at all. If anything, it’s gotten worse. The more I miss him, the more I realize I’m crazy about him.
I know I should tell Ella my good news. I know she’d be happy for me, but it wouldn’t be the same. She wasn’t in Paris with me. She didn’t see how much that time with Marguerite Dubois meant to me.
A tear escapes down my cheek, and instead of calling Ella to share my good news, I go home. I thought I was done moping, but clearly I still have some depression left in me. How often is this breakup going to catch me off guard like this? How long will it take for me to move past it? A part of me fears I won’t get over him. I’ve dated a lot of men, but I’ve never really loved any of them. Not the way I love Sebastian.
I get home and throw myself down on my bed. I just need a good cry. Then I’ll be better, and I can go out with the girls to celebrate my good fortune.
I end up crying myself to sleep, and I wake to the sound of a loud knock. A voice calls out, “Delivery for a Vivian Euling.”
I try to ignore it, but curiosity gets the better of me. I haven’t ordered anything. It’s probably flowers from my fathers or Ella.
When I open the door, a man in a uniform for a courier service holds out a slip for me to sign. He then hands me a long, thin box and a smaller square one. I recognize the shape of the larger one instantly. It’s a dress box. “Who sent it?” I ask, confused. I didn’t order any dress.
The man looks at his list. “It’s from a Sebastian Monroe.”
My mouth falls open. He’s still filming the show. How can he be sending me things? He should be in Oregon or Iowa right now. The delivery man doesn’t wait for my shock to wear off before he tells me to have a good day and hurries back to his van.
I take the boxes inside and set them on my bed. I open the dress box first and gasp when I see the shimmering navy blue material. It’s the dress that Marguerite Dubois helped me pick out for the ballet in Paris. Lying on top of the dress is a card. There are tears in my eyes before I get the envelope open. The card has a picture of a ballerina on the front. There’s a short note on the inside.
This dress was made for you. I can’t stand the thought of it belonging to anyone else. All my love, Sebastian.
Emotion slams into me so hard my knees nearly buckle. I cup my hand over my mouth to muffle a cry, and my eyes well with tears. It’s not the cost of the dress, which I’m sure is obscene considering it’s a one-of-a-kind Marguerite Dubois. It’s the thought behind it. The fact that Sebastian thought of me. His generosity and thoughtfulness. It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
I turn to the smaller box next and nearly faint when I find two velvet boxes inside. I stare at them for a good two minutes, afraid to open them. I have a feeling I know what’s inside. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Okay, he could, but he wouldn’t. Would he?
With trembling fingers, I open the boxes and find the diamond earrings and the tiara that I wore with the dress. I choke on surprise. I’m in shock. The man gave me diamonds. Lots of diamonds. There’s a note with this, too.
I told Andrea not to send these until after the show because I knew you wouldn’t accept them otherwise. They’re yours. You deserve them.
I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do. I can’t accept this. It’s too much. And yet, my chest aches at the sight of them. They’re a priceless keepsake of the best day of my life. And also a painful reminder of what I almost had but lost. My heart breaks all over again.
I burst into sobs.
Regret fills me along with anger. I’m angry at myself. If I had just been braver. If I’d been more receptive. If I had told him I loved him, would he still have let me go? Am I doomed to be alone forever? If I couldn’t make it work with a good man who loves me, how could I make it work with anyone?
I don’t want to be alone right now, so I drive across town to the Coleman house. I’ve calmed my sobs, but my eyes are still leaking. When Ella answers the door, I’m standing on the porch with wet cheeks, my nose running, eyes swollen, I’m wearing a diamond tiara, and I keep hiccupping. “H-he b-bought my d-dress.” I don’t know that I’ve ever sounded more pathetic in my life.
Ella has no idea what I’m talking about, but she doesn’t hesitate to pull me into her arms.
“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I know you have a lot going on right now, and losing Sebastian is nothing like what you’re going through with your dad, but I just hurt. Every part of me aches. I love him, Ella. I love him, and he left. He’s going to pick someone else. Marry someone else.”
“It’ll be okay.” She pulls out of the hug. “Come on. Jennifer and the twins have gone grocery shopping, so you can tell me all the details while they’re gone.”
She drags me through the house to the family room, where Rich is dozing in his chair and Brian is quietly watching CoComelon with a sleepy Apollo. I crack a small smile when I realize Brian’s singing along under his breath. If the nation could only see the big, bad druid prince singing “The Boo Boo Song.” It’s adorable.
Ella pushes me down onto the couch, then slowly lowers herself beside me so I’m squished between her and the cutest two-year-old on the planet. Brian looks at me over the top of his son’s head. His eyes drift up, and he smirks. “Nice tiara.”
My eyes well up again, and I sniff this big, ugly sniffle. Ella leans around me to glare at her husband. “Brian! Don’t be so insensitive!”
He blinks at her, his face a perfect mask of confused innocence that I might believe if he weren’t an Oscar-winning actor. “What? It’s pretty.”
Ella shoots him a you are so full of crap look, then rolls her eyes and pats my arm. “Ignore him, and tell me everything.”
“I’m not supposed to.”
Ella scoffs. “You know I won’t ever breathe a single word to anyone. I’m your best friend. You’re heartbroken. I want every detail so I know how to help you. And so I know how much I’m supposed to hate him.”
“And I need to know how much to enjoy destroying that show and the assholes who forced you on it,” Brian adds.
I crack a small smile and let out a soft sigh. “I love you guys.”
Ella hugs me. “We love you, too. Now spill.”
We get comfortable, and once I’m snuggled up with my best friend, I break every stipulation in my NDA. I give Ella every single detail, from meeting Sebastian for his fitting to receiving the diamonds this afternoon. I sniffle my way through it all, and Ella tears up along with me. Brian mutters comments that make me smile through my tears. We’re quiet afterward. “I finally found a good one,” I mumble into the silence. “And I blew it.”
Ella sighs. “You didn’t blow it. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I still lost him.” I blink back more tears and face Ella. “He’s my one. My Cinder. My fairy-tale prince.”
A rough, frail voice calls out, “Then fight for him.”
We all turn toward Ella’s father. I let out a startled laugh/sob when he smiles at me. “Hey, Rich. How long you been awake?”
He coughs at first, but manages a firm tone when he can finally speak. “Long enough to know that you need to go for it.”
My heart thumps with longing and hopelessness. “How can I fight for him? I’m kicked off the show. By the time he’s done filming, he’ll be engaged to someone else.”
Rich holds my stare. His next words come out firm. “Don’t wait until he’s done filming.”
“What do you mean?”
“Call the producers. Tell them to bring you back.”
A spark of hope ignites in me. He makes it sound so easy. Could it be possible? “Do you think they would?”
Brian scoffs. “The only thing the show cares about is ratings. That’s why they broke the mold with you. Why wouldn’t they switch things up one last time?”
I look to Ella. Her grin is mischievous and full of confidence. “It’s the surprise twist ending. The chance to give Sebastian his happily-ever-after. How could they not go for it?”
My pulse speeds up, and I feel frantic. Ella’s enthusiasm is contagious, and for a second I can picture it. But then Rich starts coughing again. He coughs so hard he throws up. I jump up to help him. Not much comes up, but what there is is bloody. My heart just about stops. He really doesn’t have much time left. I give him his cup of water to rinse his mouth out, then hand him a wet cloth and take his bedpan. I start to get up to go rinse it out, but Rich places his hand on my arm. His voice is weak again, but he holds my gaze steadily. “Go for it, Vivian. Go to that production office and raise hell until they agree to bring you back.”
Brian comes over and takes the soiled bedpan from me to go take care of it, leaving me to talk with Rich. Rich looks so pale. So withered. So exhausted. As much as I want to go back to the show, how could I leave? “Rich,” I croak. My eyes gloss over, but I hold my breath until the threat of tears passes. “I can’t go back. He let me go so I could come home and be with you guys. I should stay.”
Rich makes a face. “That’s shit.”
My mouth falls open. I share a confused and startled glance with Ella, then blink back at Rich. He gives me a small smile. “It was a good thing he did, letting you go for me. And it’s been really nice having you here, but I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on love. I’m not going to my grave with that hanging over my head.”
I lose the battle with my tears. My eyes well up and spill over onto my cheeks. “Rich…”
He pats my arm again. “Jennifer and the girls are the loves of my life. They’ve made mine the best damn life any man could ever have.”
His eyes gloss over too, and Ella sniffles behind me. Rich swallows hard, and his voice becomes thick with emotion. “I wish like hell I was going to be around to see my girls find that joy, and that includes you, honey. Give me a little extra peace to go out with.”
A sob escapes me. “But what if?—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got at least a few more weeks in me. You go get that man of yours, and bring him back here. I want to meet him.”
Ella moves beside me. She puts her arm around me and laughs through her own sobs. “You mean you want to try and scare him off.”
His answering chuckle sounds guilty, and he winks at us both. “I just want to make sure he’s worthy of you.”
I manage a smile and nod. “He is. I promise.”
“Then what are you still hanging around here for? Go get him.”