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“Baby, you deserve this and more,” Matthew replies. “Look at this place. It’s a full house, and they came here for you. Etienne was right to bet on you, Selina. This is your hard work and your brilliant mind paying off.”
“I doubt I would’ve gotten this far without your support,” I say, amazed by the sheer size of this unexpected success.
I feel Sully’s arm snaking around my waist as we pose for the front row photographers. This is crazy. It really is crazy, and I’m beyond honored to be at the center of this picture. I see Lara and everybody else from the store in the guest rows, standing and whistling, cheering and clapping frenetically. Etienne chose to take a bit of a backseat for this one, much to my astonishment. He wanted me to get all the accolades while he holds my son, my beautiful little Ashton, who looks dapper in his custom tuxedo that Etienne made especially for him.
My three-year-old prince claps his cute, chubby hands delightedly along with everyone else, black curls framing his round face and dark eyes. God, I melt over this boy whenever I look at him. He is the spitting image of Sully, but in our family, Ashton has three daddies who love him to the moon and back. He’s growing up so fast. Soon enough, he’ll be off to school. The days go by in the blink of an eye. Moments I barely register, sometimes. Yet I live each of them fully, intensely, with the kind of joie de vivre that would make poets and writers insanely jealous.
“Give it up for Selina Fuller,” Etienne shouts from the audience. “The real star of The Sartorialist!”
I mouth a “Thank you” and send dozens of kisses his way as the crowd’s cheers roar louder across the room. This man has been a positive influence on me since day one. I’ve learned so much from him, ever since I first started working at his store. It’s funny, how miffed I was that I didn’t get that junior designer position from the very beginning. How irritated I was that I had to make do as a sales specialist and sell the kind of clothes I wanted to be designing. How sad I was when two years passed, and I still wasn’t any closer to that drawing room in the back office.
Yet it was Etienne’s hesitance to add me to his design team that completely reframed my existence. Were it not for that, for his willingness to employ me regardless of the role, I never would’ve met Matthew, Jason, and Sully. I never would’ve grown so much on a personal level. Funny, how life tends to work out.
“You’re a star,” one of the male models says from behind me. “Congratulations, Selina!”
Some of the models have been making passes at me all night, but my men have been equally relentless in delivering as many death glares as they can in order to let them know that I’m taken and exclusive. I find the attention flattering, but I only have eyes for three certain people. The dress Etienne designed for me to wear this evening is fantastic, I must admit. I can understand why I’m getting so many compliments. Etienne thought I’d look gorgeous in champagne-colored sequin for tonight’s show, and apparently he was right.
The dress is hugging me in all the right places, though I’m no longer used to the high heels anymore. My back hurts—I haven’t had this kind of physical discomfort since I was pregnant with Ashton. Despite the aches, however, I still feel invincible.
“I’m honestly in awe. I can’t believe they’re still clapping,” I say, constantly smiling and waving at folks. “We’ve been doing this for what, three minutes straight now?”
“Yeah, get used to it, my love,” Matthew laughs. “This is what success looks like.”
“I can’t wait to go home. Don’t we have some leftover pizza from yesterday?” I mutter.
Some of the front row reporters are starting to ask questions, but this isn’t the right time to answer any of them, so I choose to thank them as I bow out and head back behind the stage, followed closely by my guys and the other male models. I’m starting to get really hungry. After all the excitement, and the stress of getting everything ready and perfect for the show, the adrenalin is wearing off, and my stomach is growling.
The afterparty is light and breezy. I steer clear of the alcohol and stick to raiding the hors d’oeuvres, instead. Matthew, Sully, and Jason stay by my side throughout the rest of the evening, while Etienne refuses to let go of Ashton. I don’t mind at all. He’s the closest my son will have to a grandfather from his mother’s side, and Etienne is wonderful with him. Who knows, Ashton could end up being the next in a fantastic line of fashion designers. Or a successful businessman like Matthew or Jason. Or he could be one hell of an athlete, like Sully. Either way, whatever my son decides to do with his life, he will have my full support as well as his fathers and an unlimited supply of love.
I can’t help but think of Maddie tonight. She would be so proud, so happy that I’ve been able to find not only success but also love, with three wonderful men.
The bitterness of her memory lingers, but I don’t have time throughout the evening to dwell on it for long. So many questions are being thrown at me and everybody wants to be seen and photographed next to me. I’m rubbing elbows with people I don’t even know but can only benefit my career, and all I want to do is go home and read a bedtime story to my little boy. Our boy. His dads love story time as much as Ashton.
That leftover pizza keeps scratching my brain, so I scarf down another pastry roll instead, following it up with a champagne glass filled with sparkling water.
“Selina, I think we’re ready to discuss the new spring/summer collection sometime next week,” Etienne says as Ashton gets busy running his fingers through his gray beard. While it may have been trimmed to perfection by an uptown barber earlier this morning, it will look like an unkempt bush by the time my son is done with him. “I have some ideas adjacent to yours, and I think we can share credits on this one. Perhaps Etienne Lacroix and Selina Fuller for The Sartorialist?”
“Wow Etienne that sounds incredible,” I reply. “I can’t thank you enough for giving me such a huge opportunity. You really have made my dreams come true.”
“Ma cherie, you’ve more than earned it. If anything, there are moments when I’m sorry I didn’t take you on board sooner.”
“Oh, no, everything happened precisely the way it was supposed to,” I tell him. “I have no regrets, even if I was sleeping at the store at one point.”
“Crazy times, eh?” Jason laughs.
Crazy times, indeed. Speaking of crazy, Cynthia is in prison, currently serving a twenty-year sentence for a string of charges—attempted murder being at the top of the list. Her father couldn’t bail her out this time. There wasn’t enough money in the world to save her from the wrath of our justice system, and I am certainly grateful for that. My family and I are safe, and hopefully the time in prison will help Cynthia to heal properly and live a different life once she’s free again.
Until then, I get to sleep at night.
“Crazy but wonderful,” I tell Jason. “Like I said, absolutely no regrets.”
“Excuse me, but this little man needs to go to the bathroom,” Etienne says, his eyes round and sparkly after Ashton whispered the magic word in his ear, the magic word being “potty.”
“We’ve trained him well,” Matthew chuckles as we watch Etienne make his way through the thinning crowd.
Soon enough, it’ll be just the models and a couple of influencers left to drink the massive cocktail bar dry. In previous years, I would’ve joined them, but motherhood has done quite the number on me. It does come with endless perks and so much joy, though, so I prefer today to yesterday. It’s a permanent mindset, now, and I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been, both inside and out.
“Guys, we should get going soon,” I tell my darlings. “While I’d love nothing more than to stand around and graciously accept wave after wave of compliments, I’m getting tired, and that pizza is still on my mind.”
