Page 144 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Thirty seconds,” Briggs said.

I took a deep breath, then another.

“She’s lucky,” Sebastian said. “Any woman would be lucky to have you go to war for her like this.”

“Or she’ll think I’m insane and run for the hills.”

“There’s that possibility too.” He laughed, but there was genuine affection in it. “Either way, at least you’ll know.”

I heard the music shift once again.

“Shit.” I wiped my palms on my pants. “This is really happening.”

“You’ve got this.” Sebastian squeezed my shoulder once more. “Good luck, brother.”

He disappeared backstage.

How do you tell someone you love them in front of thousands of people? How do you make it real and genuine instead of performative? I’d spent my entire adult life performing. But this needed to be different. This needed to be true.

And given the situation, I needed it to be somewhat public. It was the only way to quiet the rumors.

Dash appeared briefly, gave me a thumbs-up, and mouthed “you’ve got this” before vanishing again.

I looked out through the gap in the curtain one more time. Still couldn’t see her. But Annika was never wrong about these things. If she said Elizabeth was here, then she was here.

Somewhere in that crowd, the woman I loved was watching. Waiting.

The lights dimmed. The crowd settled into expectant silence. Tonight felt different. Final. Like everything was building to this moment.

This was it.

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders, and tried to calm my racing heart. The curtain began to rise.

I stepped forward into the blinding stage lights with the wall of sound from the audience. Applause and cheers from the people ready for a show.

For a second, the lights were so bright I couldn’t see anything. Just heard the noise and felt the heat of the spotlights.

Then my eyes adjusted, and I could see them. Faces locked on me. They were all waiting for the Blackwell brothers to deliver one final spectacular show.

I was about to give them something else entirely.

“Welcome!” My voice boomed through the sound system. “Thank you all for being here tonight, for joining us on this incredible journey through Fashion of Love Week.”

More applause. I waited for it to die down, acutely aware of how nervous I was, which was unusual for me. I had addressed countless crowds and handled countless high-pressure situations. But this was different. This mattered in a way business never had.

“We’re here to celebrate my father’s life and his legacy,” I continued. “Buck Blackwell built this company into the fashion empire it is today. Anyone that has ever worn a Blackwell design knows the quality we put into every item. You look and you feel good when you’re wearing one of our designs. This week was his final vision, his last gift to us. And we hope we’ve done him proud.”

I paused, gathering courage for what came next. This was the moment. The point of no return.

“Before we begin tonight’s show, I want to address something. This week has been incredible in so many ways—four cities, five shows, each one a success beyond what we imagined. But there’s been one consistent highlight across all of them, and I’d love to show you some of the feedback we received.”

I signaled to the tech booth. The giant screens flanking the runway lit up with images of Elizabeth’s three dresses from Milan. Then headlines began flashing across the screens:

“Bold New Direction for Blackwell”

“The Three Dresses Everyone’s Talking About”

“Fresh Vision Breathes New Life into Classic House”