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“I should’ve told you,” she whispers back.
Autumn pushes at me, nearly shoving me out of my chair. “Get up and hug her, or I’m going to have to do it, and I’m not getting snot on her jacket. It’s too fabulous for that.”
I get up to come around the table, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I enfold my aunt in a hug. I know it’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten how thin she truly is. And I don’t think I’ve hugged her when I’ve been taller than she is, even in her power heels.
How long ago must it have been since we embraced? It must’ve been when I was truly a child, before I was a teen growing inches seemingly overnight.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs into my chest.
“Me too.”
We sit back down, and I look to Autumn, silently asking what she thinks about my aunt’s request for a fashion showplace. We have a conversation consisting solely of raised and lowered eyebrows, pursed lips, and smiles.
Finally, Autumn turns back to Jacqueline. “Okay, I’m in. Fashion week is in two weeks, though, so I’m not sure we can pull a show together by then.”
Jacqueline smirks, pleased as punch with herself. “I’ve already booked it. Friday night, eight PM.”
Autumn jumps to her feet, the chair noisily pushing back behind her. “What? That’s Friday night, at eight PM. Like primetime.”
“Precisely. House Corbin doesn’t do anything small, my dear. Besides, the designs are already completed. They’ll simply need tailoring to New York models, and a bit of... repair.” She cringes at that. “I’ll get you anything you need for that.”
“You bet your ass, you will,” Autumn declares.
Negotiations made, we look around the table at one another.
Have we done it? Agreed to a show in two weeks when the studio is a mess? Yep. Made up twenty-five-plus years of anger and hurt in a single conversation? Maybe not fully, but we’ve made considerable progress.
Tobias says in his worst American accent, “Ain’t family grand?”
