Chapter Twenty-four #2
I was torn. Every part of me wanted to believe things could be different, that we could have a fresh start. But the scars of the past loomed large, a constant reminder of the cost of repeating old patterns. I couldn’t risk letting him in only for him to leave again—that fear kept me awake at night.
Falling in love with Ronan Romano again was terrifying. His love had been the most powerful force I’d ever felt, sweeping me off my feet and consuming my heart, but it was also the most destructive, leaving me broken when it ended.
My thoughts wandered to a time when everything felt perfect.
I could almost feel the softness of the bed beneath us, the warm glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. I was sprawled out, sketchpad in hand, pencil dancing across the paper as inspiration flowed. Ronan lay beside me, watching with a mix of amusement and adoration in his eyes.
“You know, you make a pretty good human pin cushion,” I teased, sticking another needle into the collar of his shirt. He chuckled, his deep, rich laughter filling the room and wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.
“If it means I get to be close to you, I’ll be the best pin cushion you’ve ever had,” he replied, his voice a low murmur. He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb my work, and watched as I meticulously placed pins and needles along the fabric of his shirt.
I glanced up at him, catching the way his eyes sparkled with mischief and affection. “Hold still,” I chided gently, “I’m almost done.”
Ronan’s hand found mine, his touch warm and reassuring. “Take all the time you need,” he whispered. “I love watching you do what you love.”
The memory was vivid, the details sharp and clear.
The way he’d looked at me, like I was the only person in the world that mattered.
The feel of his skin under my fingertips, the way he’d stay perfectly still to make sure I had everything I needed for my designs.
He was my muse, my greatest supporter, and in those moments, everything seemed possible.
I blinked back to the present, the note still clutched in my hand. How could something that felt so right have gone so wrong? Despite everything, the memory brought a bittersweet smile to my lips.
I shoved the note into my purse and situated my desk, trying to do more sketches for the fashion shows I have coming up.
I was lost in my sketch when a sharp knock broke my focus.
My pencil kept moving, ideas pouring out now—designs for the upcoming show, each line pulling me closer to something bigger, something that could change everything. My hands worked on instinct, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the note I’d hidden in my purse.
Then my phone rang. I glanced at the screen, and a familiar name flashed: Giulia Caruso. My lawyer.
I didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Giulia?”
“Hey.” Her voice was steady and confident, immediately putting me at ease. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”
“Nope, you’re good! What’s going on?”
“We’re working on the Eminence partnership details,” Giulia said, her tone all business now. “This is a multi-million-dollar deal, you know? It’s huge, and we’re talking about a five-year commitment, the first two years being exclusive like you decided.”
My pulse quickened. “I know, I know. But it’s all happening so fast. I can barely keep up.”
“It is moving fast,” she agreed. “But that’s because you’re the one everyone wants. You’ve become the face everyone’s chasing. No one has your spotlight, and that’s why they’re rushing to get to you before anyone else does.”
Her words sank in. I was the one they wanted. It felt surreal, but exhilarating at the same time. “Okay... I’m still on for the boutique search, right?”
“Absolutely,” Giulia confirmed. “The boutique’s a done deal. We’re making sure everything aligns with your vision. This is the big next step for you and your brand.”
I leaned back in my chair, letting her words settle in. This was real. It was happening. “It’s a lot to process, but… we’re ready.”
“Of course,” she said with a quiet confidence I’d come to rely on. “We’ve had some back-and-forth this week with their coordinators, but now we’re about to get everyone on a Zoom call to finalize the terms.”
“I trust you. I really do.”
“I know you do,” Giulia said, her voice softening for a moment. “I’ll check back in once we’re done with the meeting. But I wanted to reassure you that everything’s moving in the right direction. This is your time.”
I smiled, feeling a surge of excitement. “Thanks, Giulia. I’m good. Let’s do this.”
I ended the call with a breathless laugh, overwhelmed in the best way. My heart raced—this partnership was going to change everything.
I reached for my sketchbook, but the spark was gone. Instead, I grabbed my phone and mindlessly scrolled through Instagram.
Then my thumb betrayed me.
Ronan’s story.
He reposted a photo with a woman. It was professional, but his smile was soft, easy, and too fucking intimate to ignore. She looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her.
He stood tall in his white coat, stethoscope around his neck, effortlessly perfect. She was shorter, her hand resting casually on him as they posed among college students.
I couldn’t look away.
“Spent the day with upcoming doctors at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai for their career day. @theofficialronanromano is the best human there is!”
I tried to brush it off as I continued scrolling, but a pang of something unpleasant flickered within me.
Ronan and I were over, and whatever he did now was none of my concern.
But seeing him with someone else, someone who meant something to him, stirred an emotion I refused to acknowledge.
My annoyance surged like a tidal wave as I scrutinized every detail of their interaction in the photo.
Despite the professional setting, Ronan looked anything but distant or preoccupied as he usually did.
Instead, there was a calmness about him that infuriated me to no end. A calmness he only had around me.
Frustrated, I angrily swiped off his story and went to her profile. Suddenly, it hit me—I knew where I had seen her before. She was seated right beside him at my fashion show, a vision in a stunning red dress. I had dismissed her then as another attendee, but evidently, she was his plus-one.
It was a feeling almost feral, something I couldn’t define, but that unsettled me deeply.
I scrolled further through her account and stumbled upon yet another picture of her and Ronan.
Was this what assistants got paid to do?
This time, they sat together in a meeting, her caption reading, “Meeting days with the boss.” And then I noticed his comment—likely posted by someone on his PR team—praising her as “the best assistant ever.”
The longer I stared at the photo, the more my annoyance simmered into a boiling resentment. In a fit of frustration and surging irrationality, I impulsively reported the photo as impersonation.
With a sigh, I closed the app and tried to refocus on my day, pushing aside the troubling realization that seeing Ronan with someone else affected me more deeply than I cared to admit.