AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I still need to tell them about the baby.
Later. Right now, I need to feel their arms around me, their soft kisses on my cheeks and lips, their musky cologne filling my lungs and their strength imbuing my soul with much-needed energy. Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it together. The certainty and promise of a better future ahead has my eyes twinkling and my soul warming as I feel myself coming back to life. Winter may be cold and sleepy outside, but there is the sweetest spring blooming in my heart.
29
Selina
Ihad almost forgotten how good it felt to be in the company of people that I could actually rely on. Having lived my whole life experiencing disappointment from the very ones who were supposed to love and nurture me, I’m genuinely not used to getting this kind of support. Matthew, Sully, and Jason are determined to show up for me in every single aspect of my existence. The mere concept fills me with wonder and awe, but I refuse to let that scare me anymore. It is beautiful, and something I now believe I truly deserve.
The first thing I need to do, according to Matthew, is return to The Sartorialist and talk to Etienne about what happened. I assumed I was fired when I left, so I definitely need to speak to him about my job, to apologize for running off the way I did, and for ignoring the calls that followed. I panicked. I was terrified and embarrassed. My ego couldn’t take another blow after I left the cabin in Aspen, and my heart wasn’t ready for yet another failure. I hope Etienne will understand.
“Worst case scenario, he will at least give you a good recommendation for your next job,” Matthew says. We’re in the back seat of his truck. Sully is driving, while Jason rides shotgun. We’re on our way to The Sartorialist, and my heart is pounding. “I’m sure Etienne will understand, though. I know him well enough to say that with a certain degree of confidence.”
“I hope so,” I reply, my head resting on his shoulder. “I feel like such a lost little lamb right now. I barely recognize myself.”
“And it’s perfectly okay,” Jason says, giving me a smile over the shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, Selina, and you barely had a moment to sit down and process everything before another storm hit. You’re only human. We’re all only human. Once we learn to accept that, we can forgive and elevate ourselves.”
“Spoken like a guy who’s been through the twelve-step program,” Sully chuckles dryly.
“Whatever it takes,” Jason replies. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Selina. And I’m sorry I didn’t have the nerve to leave my room for days afterwards. You needed me, you needed us. I’m doing better now, though. I promise.”
“I believe you,” I tell him. “And I do understand. Remember, I grew up with a dad who’s still on and off the wagon. I get it. I may have been on the receiving end of a lot of hurt and sorrow from that man, but I do understand the addiction and the struggle against it. It’s a disease, and it needs to be treated as such. The fact that you have the presence and the state of mind to do something about it tells me you’re more than strong enough to handle it, and to get your life back on track.”
“I haven’t had a drink since that night,” he says. “It was easier this time around because I had you constantly in the back of my mind. The guys have been nothing but supportive, but that’s no surprise.”
“We’re only human,” I remind him of his own words.
“Okay, here we are,” Sully says as he pulls into the parking lot. “Ready?”
“No,” I mumble, staring at the megastore building as I climb out of the truck, snow crunching beneath my boots. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for a conversation quite like this.”
Yet ready or not, it must be done. I owe it to myself and I owe it to the man who gave me a job when he didn’t really have one for me and my talents at the time. It took me a while to understand that simply having talent and a college degree wouldn’t be enough to make me worthy of a designer position at a company like Etienne’s. I get it. I’ve had room and time to grow, to further hone my skills and better learn, particularly where The Sartorialist’s style guide is concerned.
In hindsight, I doubt I would’ve been a good fit even as a junior designer for this brand. I didn’t understand the ethos as well as I do today.
“Come on, let’s grab life by the horns and kick it in the ass,” Matthew says, offering me his arm.
I slip my hand through and let him guide me into the building, closely followed by Jason and Sully. I seem tiny and insignificant in the company of these three men, but I am definitely proud and blossoming in their presence again. This whole place seems as if I’m revisiting it from a past dream, a corner lost somewhere in the past that I have only just found again. Why did I run? Why was the fear of failure stronger than my desire to grow and face my demons? Loneliness, as bitter and as badly as it hurt before, felt more familiar than having to look Etienne in the eyes and tell him the truth.
“I can’t thank you guys enough for being here with me,” I say. “But the store should be closed today. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that earlier—”
“No need,” Matthew replies. “I called Etienne. He’s expecting us.”
That makes my heart skip a beat and my stomach shrink with anxiety. For a brief moment, I’d thought I’d be off the hook, able to postpone an extremely uncomfortable conversation. Alas, fate has other plans. Fate has Matthew, Sully, and Jason leading the way as I brace for the inevitable. They’re right, though. I owe Etienne that much.
Up ahead, the store rises with its sleek front displays and chrome-plated frames, its white marble shelves and equally pristine floors. Light pendants hang from above, but only half of them are lit since it’s not actually open. The front grates are pulled up, and I can see Etienne inside, carelessly scrolling through his phone as he leans against the counter. He’s wearing jeans and a plush navy-blue sweater—not from his collection. It looks like it’s from last year’s GAP autumn/winter line, which is all the more endearing when I see it on a man who would normally scrunch his nose at anything “casual-American,” as he describes it.
“How did he sound?” I ask. “It’s Christmas Day, for Pete’s sake. He must’ve been spending time with his family,” I mutter when Matthew doesn’t tell me about Etienne’s tone over the phone. I’m getting nervous. Downright skittish.
But Sully places his hand on the small of my back and leans in. “Would you relax?” he whispers. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”
“I’ll try.”
I take a deep breath, and we go inside. As soon as he looks up from his phone, Etienne’s expression lightens up. It fills me with sudden relief because he seems genuinely happy to see me again.
“Selina! Merry Christmas, first of all,” he says, his French accent adding thickness to the words.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” I reply. “I’m so sorry…”
