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CHAPTER15
AUTUMN
I’m notsure this narrow passage actually qualifies as a road, at least not in my experience. This is where you go to get mugged in New York, as it’s little more than an oversized alleyway, but my phone is telling me to go this direction to get to my destination.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. But after yesterday’s show, I found the note and knew that I had no choice. Oh, Simon would have respected me if I’d skipped this... but I might not have respected myself. And while I want to follow the rules of the competition, I have to at least do this today.
Because I want to see him.
I still have worries —lots of them, in fact—but the idea of not seeing Simon again is downright dreadful.
Overhead, the sky is beautiful blue, with puffy clouds and golden sunlight. I’ve dressed in a favorite pair of shorts that are so wide-legged, they appear to be a skirt, a scoop-neck white T-shirt that makes my breasts look amazing, and platform fashion tennis shoes since I’m not sure what we’ll be doing.
I make one more turn as my GPS directs and then stop. I’m here, right on time. Just like magic, or maybe a well-wound watch, a distinctly colored Bugatti with the top already down roars down the street.
He stops, getting out to open the door for me. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, which seem surprisingly casual, both for a fashion icon and a Parisian, but he’s rocking them. He’s got on a black baseball cap and aviator sunglasses that emphasize the lower half of his face, especially his strong, powerful jawline which is covered with a few days’ growth.
“Were you watching for me? Or do you just have impeccable timing?” I ask.
“Perhaps,” he replies without answering either way. “Climb in.”
I settle into the luxurious leather seat, buckling up. “I can barely see your face,” I tell him as he gets back in the driver’s seat and pulls away from the curb.
“I have a few disguises when I don’t want to be noticed so we can enjoy our day in peace,” he says, completely serious.
I laugh so hard that I lose my breath and start wheezing a bit. “You think glasses and a hat are going to keep you from being noticed when you’re driving a bright red, million-dollar car?”
He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s not the only one in Paris.”
“Any of the other Bugatti owners have a jawline you can cut glass with?” I ask, tracing a finger along the scruff there.
“Non, probably not.” He catches my finger and places a soft kiss to the fingertip. “I wasn’t sure you would come today.”
Pulling my hand back, I settle them in my lap. “I wasn’t either. I’m still not sure, honestly.”
Worries are building again, getting stronger every time I try to push them down. I’ve never been one to let fear stop me, though. Leaving home to move to NYC when I didn’t know a single soul... crushed it. Tackling an industry with all the passion I have in my heart knowing success is near impossible... let me at it. Working with an established designer and providing feedback like my opinion means a damn thing... checkity check. Crossing the globe to compete for an opportunity to work with a major fashion house... yep, that too.
If I could go back and tell past me what my life would look like in only a few short years, I think Little Autumn would nod and say, ‘Of course it will.’ I wouldn’t have considered that my life would be any less because if it wasn’t what I wanted, I would keep working until it was—to prove to myself, and maybe my mom a little too, that I am good enough.
So the chance to have the best of both worlds—professional and personal—should be an easy decision. But I don’t want to risk everything on something I’m the only one putting meaning into when this has the potential to be catastrophic for me. There’s still a whisper in my ear that Simon could have anyone, anytime he wants to, and at the end of the day, I’m just... me. Admittedly awesome, but also on a completely different level of life and experience from Simon, and with considerably more in jeopardy.
Simon glances over to me, his attention torn between me and the road, and then he places his hand over my clasped ones. “I am glad you came. I thought you would enjoy seeing more of Paris, and I am thrilled to be the one to escort such a rare beauty.”
I don’t ask where we’re going, happy to see whatever sights he wants to show me considering you can’t go wrong in Paris. And I don’t touch the flowery compliment, not wanting to dissect it too much lest it wither to nothing.
He drives for a bit, and the whole way, I gawk out the windows to visually feast at every tidbit that we pass. I want to absorb it all, use it as a muse, and create designs inspired by it. Simon turns into a parking garage and carefully parks his car. We get out, and Simon takes my hand as we walk out onto the sidewalk.
In front of a large cast iron gate, Simon asks, “Do you know the Luxembourg Gardens? It’s one of the most beautiful places in Paris.”
“I’ve heard of it and seen photos. It’s like Central Park in New York, a pearl in the middle of the city, right?” I look around, already fully charmed by the greenery and statuary I can see.
We walk along the wide, sandy dirt paths, taking in the sights. There are people everywhere, smiling and chatting, taking advantage of the weather to play tennis and basketball and sit in groups in the green chairs among the paths.
“Would you like to see the Statue of Liberty?” he asks.
I laugh. “I have. In New York. It’s sorta iconic, you know? Give me your poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free...”
He places a finger beneath my chin and turns my head gently to the side, pointing with his other hand. “There’s more than one. In fact, there are hundreds of them all over the world. One of the most beautiful is here in the gardens.”
