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“Good,” I hurried to explain. “I’m realizing I had poor expectations of how billionaires behaved. Every time you surprise me is a good thing.”
“I’m happy to change your perspective,” he said. “There's nothing I wouldn't do for Bristol. Speaking of,” he continued, furrowing his brow as he scanned the crowd again. “I figured she'd be out here by now, but she must still be backstage. I'll introduce you to her after the show, okay?”
“I can't wait to meet her,” I said, and I really meant that. Crossland wasn't shy about anything, but he especially loved talking about his sister and how proud he was of her. It was endearing, if not this side of charming, and it was something I could absolutely relate to.
“Crossland,” someone called near the back row on the left side, the crowd shifting just enough to show Gareth, one of Crossland's friends that I'd had the pleasure of talking to at Weston's wedding last weekend.
He was an intimidating-looking guy, but fairly easy to talk to after you got over the whole terrifying thing. He lifted his chin once Crossland spotted him, and we both headed that direction.
“Thanks for saving us seats,” Crossland said as we made our way to Gareth. Asher and his fiancée, Daisy—who I'd also met at the wedding—sat on the other side of Gareth. All three of them looked at me a little skeptically as Crossland held my hand to guide our way past them.
“Wouldn't miss the chance to see you,” Gareth said as we settled into our seats next to him. “Especially when I have to fly out tonight. Thanks for inviting me,” he continued. “I've always been a fan of your sister’s clothes. Especially the suits. She makes them so they're not so damn suffocating.”
Crossland laughed, clapping Gareth on the back before nodding at Asher and Daisy. “I'm grateful you all came,” he said. “It means a lot to Bristol when we show our support. Weston and Brynn only get a pass because they're off skiing in the Alps for their honeymoon.”
The tight-knit group of friends fell into an easy conversation that I felt I stood just on the outside of.
I tried to give them space despite sitting right next to Crossland, while also being available enough if he wanted me to chime in as a girlfriend would be expected to. I was still trying to figure out exactly how to behave, and the more I thought about it the less natural I felt.
After agonizing over that some more, I decided the best thing to do was to behave exactly as I would if I were really dating Crossland. Yes, it was hard as hell to make my brain believe I’d ever be in a relationship with someone like him—all gorgeous cocky charm and endless wealth—but if I wanted to do this job well, I needed to make myself believe it.
A gentleman in his silver fox era passed behind Crossland’s chair where we sat in the back row and shook his hand in greeting. “Crossland,” he said with enthusiasm. “So glad you could make it. So proud of Bristol. She's got the hottest line on the market.”
Crossland released the man's hand and nodded. “I agree with you there,” he said.
The man glanced over at me after nodding to Crossland’s friends, arching a brow.
Crossland shifted in a seat, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “This is Aspen Reed, my girlfriend,” he said. “Aspen, this is Rene Landon. He's a legendary fashion industry executive.”
“I don’t know about legend, but I don’t mind the sound of it,” Rene said. “Wonderful to meet you.” He extended his hand, and I quickly shook it. “What is it you do, my darling? It must be something fascinating if you’re able to hold down this one's attention,” he joked, laughing at himself.
“Oh, I…” I said, surprised.
This was one discussion we hadn't had, and sitting among billionaires and fashion legends, I suddenly had a hard time remembering how to speak. Then I remembered who I was and went with it. “I'm a coffee industry expert,” I said, grinning up at him. It wasn't a full lie, but the title soundedsomuch better than barista.
Crossland laughed and cleared his throat at the same time, making it hard for me to not snort as well.
“Coffee expert,” Rene said, eyes washing over me with intrigue. “That's absolutely fascinating. Do you have your own line of coffee beans that you distribute? I’m always looking for new flavors.”
“Not yet,” I answered, the words rolling off my tongue like I really belonged here, discussing collective empires. Like there was a part of me that had been researching coffee bean distribution for my own business interests.
It wasn'ttoofar off the mark. I had often dreamed about owning my own shop with a little bookstore connected to it or coming up with something fresher, like a coffee shop, bar, and bookstore. They were just dreams, though. Just like when I was a kid, I used to dream that I would be a rock star drummer.
I had one realistic dream, and that was seeing Brecken achieve her goals of majoring in family law at NYU. She was firmly on that path, and that's all I could really ask for.
“Well, it was wonderful meeting you,” Rene said, then glanced at Crossland.
“Always a pleasure to see you and your sister's work. I must go take my seat before the show starts.”
We shifted back in our seats, moving so we could face the stage as the lights dimmed, indicating the start of the show.
Music poured through hidden speakers, filling the room with a booming, exhilarating beat, and soon models strutted confidently down the catwalk, looking almost otherworldly in the beautiful clothes that Crossland’s sister designed.
Each piece had a special cut or theme and it all meshed together so cohesively it felt like getting a personal glimpse of Crossland’s sister without ever actually meeting her.
I leaned closer to Crossland’s ear. “Your sister is brilliant,” I whispered.
Crossland beamed. “She really is.”
