Page 115 of Pretend To Be Mine

“You have no idea. Sebastian nearly gave me a heart attack in London. Briggs, on the other hand, is a lot like me.”

“I thought there were problems you had to deal with?”

I shrugged. “I think that was more my problem than his. I tend to like to see things handled ahead of time. Briggs is more of a trust-the-process kind of guy. He would have figured it out.”

“I love how you and your brothers all work so well together.”

I chuckled. “I don’t know if I would go that far, but we have learned how to work together without killing each other. This idea of each of us getting one show was brilliant. Otherwise, there might have been bloodshed if we tried to do a single show with all of our own ideas.”

“Can we go out front?” she asked. “I want to see it from the audience perspective too.”

“Absolutely. That’s the plan. We’ll watch from multiple angles. See how it all comes together.”

We made our way out to where the audience was gathering in the Galerie des Batailles. The space was breathtaking even without the show. Intimate despite its size. Exactly what Briggs had envisioned for his theme of Romance.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Elizabeth said for probably the twentieth time today. She grabbed my arm, squeezing. “Adrian, thank you. For this, for everything. This week has been incredible. I’ve learned so much. It’s like a decade’s worth of experience compressed into a few days. Hell, more like a lifetime. How many people have actually seen this place? I mean, in the grand scheme of things? I feel so fortunate.”

“Stick with me, baby,” I said, then immediately felt the weight of those words.

Stick with me. As if there was a future waiting for us beyond Fashion of Love Week’s expiration date.

I felt her tense slightly beside me, clearly having the same thought. We were both wondering what came next. Was this a lovely dream we’d wake from, or the beginning of something that could last?

I didn’t know. Couldn’t predict how she’d respond when I finally said what I needed to say.

But I loved spending time with her. Loved seeing her excitement and the way she looked at me like I’d given her the world when really she’d given me so much more.

“Come on,” I said, pushing the heavy thoughts aside. “Let’s grab some wine before the show starts. Briggs has excellent taste in everything, including refreshments.”

The pre-show reception area had been set up in an adjoining salon. Waiters circulated with champagne and an array of French appetizers that looked like tiny works of art.

Elizabeth picked up something that appeared to be a miniature tower of vegetables and cheese. “What is this?”

“No idea. But it’s French and at Versailles, so it’s probably delicious.”

She took a bite, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. It’s like—I don’t even know what this is, but it’s incredible.”

I tried one myself. It was some combination of goat cheese and fig and something else I couldn’t identify. She was right. It was exceptional. Again, that was Briggs. The man did have good taste.

We spent the next twenty minutes sampling everything, feeding each other bites and drinking amazing wine. Elizabeth kept making delighted sounds at each new discovery. I found myself more entertained watching her reactions than tasting the food itself.

“This one looks weird,” she said, holding up something that resembled a small sea creature.

“That’s escargot. Snails.”

“Snails?” She looked horrified, then intrigued. “Have you had it before?”

“Many times. It’s actually good.”

“You first.”

I took one, eating it in a single bite. “See? Still alive.”

“That’s not reassuring.” But she tried one anyway, chewing thoughtfully. “Okay, that’s actually not terrible. Garlicky. Buttery.”

“Welcome to French cuisine. If you can get past what it looks like, it usually tastes amazing.”

“I loved that caviar at the last show,” she said. “That was another first. Well, no. I think Chris tried to serve us caviar once but it wasn’t the real stuff.”