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She picked up on the second ring.

"Ruby?" Keys clattered in the background. "Aren't you supposed to be living the dream in Paris right now? Don't tell me Durand's show got postponed."

"Isa..."

Just her name. That was all I got out before my throat seized up, voice shredded like sandpaper.

The typing stopped.

"Where are you?" Isabella's tone dropped. No more jokes. Just steel.

"Hoboken." I bit my lip. My nails dug into the coarse fabric of the armrest. "I'm back in New York. Can you meet me? Now."

"Usual place." I heard her snap the laptop shut, fabric rustling as she grabbed her coat. "Twenty minutes. Back booth. Don't think. Just wait."

Half an hour later, the little restaurant deep in Greenwich Village smelled like truffle, garlic, and espresso.

Cold rain beat against the windows, smearing Manhattan's neon into blurred halos.

Isabella shrugged off her camel cashmere coat and tossed it onto the leather banquette. She wore a sharp black suit, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, gray-green eyes like twin blades cutting straight to my bloodless face.

"Jesus, Ruby."

She dropped into the seat across from me, brow furrowing hard. "You look like you just crawled out of a morgue. Your eyes are black as bruises."

The waiter brought two plates of black truffle pappardelle and a bottle of red.

I picked up my fork and stirred the noodles. My stomach churned. Couldn't swallow a bite.

"What the hell happened?" Isabella reached across the table and clamped down on my wrist. "Did Chad threaten you with those disgusting pictures again? Because if he did, I'll have someone break his legs tonight."

"Not Chad." I shook my head. My throat felt like gravel.

"Then who?"

I took a breath. The worn leather bracelet with the little scissors pressed cold against my pulse.

"Isa... I think I'm in serious trouble."

"What kind of trouble? Company finances? Someone steal your designs?"

"I fell in love with someone." The words scraped out. "And I don't know what to do."

Isabella blinked. The edge in her gaze softened slightly. She raised an eyebrow. "That's it? I thought someone died. Who is it? New assistant? Some Italian hottie from the fabric mill?"

"No." I stared at the white rim of the plate. "He's a lot older than me. His position at the company—it's terrifying. And he was married. He has a daughter."

The air went still.

Isabella's hand stopped. She leaned back. Her gray-green eyes narrowed. "Wait. Older? Powerful? Has a kid? Ruby, you don't go for complicated men with baggage."

"I know." I covered my face. Hot tears leaked through my fingers. "I didn't even know he had a daughter at first! We crossed a line in Paris. I thought he was serious about me. I thought we'd found some kind of... soul connection through the designs, the conversations. But this morning, he told me. He has a daughter."

"He hid it from you?" Isabella's voice went ice-cold.

"He said his ex-wife left him a long time ago. That there was never any love between them." I gave a bitter laugh, voice breaking apart. "But I don't know if I can believe him. Isa, he's so far above me. And I'm nothing. I don't even know if I have the right to stand next to him, let alone deal with a child... I can barely keep my own life together. How could I possibly fit into a family? Do I even deserve to?"

The shame wrapped around my heart like weeds.