by Erika Kelly
He’d hoped to get into town before the show, but mechanical issues had grounded his plane for hours, which meant he hadn’t been able to get out of Calamity until morning. While he wouldn’t tell her about Robert’s deception right now—not in the middle of her show—he wanted to be here in case something went wrong.
Heading for the yellow light at the end of the alley, he heard laughter. Robert. He stopped, peering around the building to size up the situation.
Christ, this is too familiar. At twenty-five, he was back to checking up on Robert, protecting Knox from him.
Yep, there he was. With his back to him, Robert talked quietly to some guy with shaggy hair, skinny jeans, and a pork pie hat. Disappointment slammed him—which meant he’d held out some small hope that Robert wasn’t out here buying drugs.
“Okay, man, cool. I gotta get back in.” Robert pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, fiddled with it a minute. “What the fuck?” He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Come on.”
Gray was close enough to see the tremble in Robert’s fingers, his inability to grasp a bill. Anger welled up hard and fast. Fucker’s wasted at Knox’s show? It took every ounce of restraint not to charge out there and confront the asshole. Except he knew from experience not to mess with someone on drugs. He couldn’t do anything that might jeopardize the show. So, he waited while they made the exchange. Immediately after the dealer quickly took off, Robert unscrewed the small cap, tapped the container onto his palm, and swallowed some pills.
Jesus Christ. Gray strode right past him and reached for the door handle to get into the building. “Hey, man.”
Robert spun around. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Forcing a casual stance, Gray said, “Came to support Knox.”
“You just can’t stay away, can you?” He stepped closer. “Don’t you have a competition to get to?”
“Sure do. I’ll head out the day after tomorrow.” He gave him a chin nod, biting down on everything he wanted to say. Gray grasped the handle, but the moment he pulled, Robert lunged and yanked on his arm.
“You’re not going in there. We’re in the middle of a show.” His pupils were blown, his body shook with energy.
Gray wanted to say, Really? Because it looked like you were in the middle of a drug deal. But it wouldn’t help Knox, so he got his temper under control. “Yeah, I know.”
“You want to see the show, go around to the front and wait to get in like everyone else.”
Holy shit, what he wanted to say to this fucker. But he knew…he knew stirring him up when he was already agitated would have disastrous results. So, for Knox, he’d back off. “Sure.” It came out tersely, but that was the best he could do. “I’ll do that.” But, the moment he turned around, Robert shoved him against the brick wall.
“Don’t fucking patronize me, you dickhead. I know why you’re here. My mom told me.” He gripped Gray’s shirt in a fist and jerked him forward. “You’re not going to tell Knox. She doesn’t need to know.”
In one swift move, he could have this asshole on his knees, his arm twisted behind his back. Knox. Instead, he said, “Not here to tell her anything. Like I said, I just came to support her.”
But if you don’t let go of me, this won’t end well for you.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Robert grew more anxious. “I’m giving her what she’s always wanted.”
“All she ever wanted from you was sobriety. The career she could handle on her own.”
“Ah, did I steal your cape? Sorry, Superman, but you couldn’t give her what she really wanted, so I had to step in.”
Gray’s hands fisted, his chest pumped. But he wouldn’t lose it. He’d save all his words for when the show was over. “We’re on the same side, man. We both just want her happy. There’s no competition here.”
“You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure you’re fucking my girlfriend.”
Gray’s elbow cocked back automatically, but he caught himself before following through. Not fighting a drug addict in the alley outside her show. He sucked in a deep breath and took a step back. “I don’t know why you lied about Granger’s backing you, but it looks like it’s all working out, so we’re cool.” Oh, fuck, his jaw ached; his joints felt raw and brittle.
Calm down.
“I didn’t lie. I told you I don’t have a job at Grangers. I told you that.”
“You said you’re a contract worker for them.”
“Yeah. And, after I pull off this show, I’ll get a job there. I’ll prove I’m an asset.”
“The only reason you don’t have a job there now is because you’re not clean. Christ, man, you’re smart, you’re—”
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit. I can take the edge off and not be an addict. There isn’t just one way to live. We don’t all have to do it the fuckin’ Bowie way. Now get the fuck out of here.”
The door opened, and a young man peered outside. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Needing to diffuse the situation, Gray hitched his duffle higher and started to head back down the alley.
But Robert wrenched the strap, knocking Gray off balance. With a feral look in his eyes, he slammed his fist into Gray’s cheek. Out of control, he started raining punches and kicks. Gray jumped into action, bending low and ramming into him with his shoulder.
The men crashed through the open door and tumbled inside the building. A tower of boxes toppled over. Gray landed on top of his friend and pinned him.
His features livid, veins protruding from his neck, Robert fought to get free. “Fucker. Get off me.”
With a brutal grip on his wrists, Gray got right in his face. “Stop it. This is Knox’s show. If you care about her at all, you’ll get a hold of yourself.”
“What’s going on?” someone said. “Is that Robert?
“Call nine-one-one. Someone’s assaulting him.”
“No.” Gray shot them a look. “Don’t call nine-one-one. Don’t ruin her show. I’m Knox’s boyfriend.”
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Robert wrested an arm free. He tried to stab his fingers into Gray’s eyes, but Gray head-butted him.
He gripped Robert’s wrists and slammed them onto the floor. “You will not fuck up her show. Do you hear me? I’ll put us both in jail before I let you ruin this for her.”
Chapter Twenty
With everything under control in the dressing area, Knox snuck out to take in her show. The florist had done an amazing job of turning a modern, brick-walled space into a verdant, colorful English garden.
In its elegant simplicity, it had turned out even more beautiful than what Luc’s set designer had created.
The models worked the room perfectly, as they strutted to Tame Impala’s Elephant—a perfect juxtaposition to the old world gentility of the setting.
Her dresses…seriously, in this setting, they looked as ‘extravagantly feminine and lushly romantic’ as the Bridal Salon reviewer had once described.
She thought she heard a shout—but it could’ve come from outside. Didn’t sound like it, though. She’d better get back. As she slowly made her way through the standing-room only crowd, she pulled out her phone and texted Robert. Everything okay?
A scream pierced the room. Quickening her pace, she made it to the front row of chairs when a man roared—a sound unlike anything she’d ever heard—pure, unleashed rage.
“Excuse me.” Knox pushed through the agitated crowd.
The unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into a gut had chairs scraping back and people getting to their feet.
“Let’s get out of here,” someone said.
And then a man crashed through the trompe l’oeil canvas, taking a set of track lights down with him. Sparks flew, and the man rolled onto his back moaning. A moment later, another man—Gray?—came out and dropped to a crouch to pick up—oh, my God, Robert?—as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.
Why was Gray here?
Why were they fighting?
With Robert slung over his shoulder, Gray stood up. He looked horrified, scanning the hundred and fifty faces staring at him. With a look of utter defeat, he swiped the blood trickling at the side of his mouth.
Oh, my God. What has he done? She could not believe she was watching Gray Bowie carry Robert away in a fireman’s hold.
“So much for the white-hot wedding dress designer,” the woman in front of her said.
“More like white trash.”
Knox closed her eyes, the faint sound of barking echoing in her mind. “Excuse me.” She made her way through the crowded room to the back, where she found Gray carrying a subdued Robert out the door.
She followed him into the alley. “What have you done?” Crouching, she smoothed the hair out of Robert’s eyes. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” When he groaned, she glanced up at Gray and shook her head in disbelief. She gestured helplessly to the gallery. “How could you do this to me?”
“Me? I didn’t…Jesus, Knox, he’s high as a kite right now.”
“He’s not high. Are you kidding me? You ruined my show because you think he’s on drugs? I’ve been with him this whole time. He’s fine. God, Gray.” She covered her eyes with a hand, blinking back scalding tears. “How could you do this to me?”
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.
“Teterboro airport.” Adrenaline rocked his body. Gray held his hand out, watching it shake. Fuck. He’d come out here to help her…and he’d screwed everything up.
He felt sick. The look of betrayal in Knox’s eyes gutted him. Took a knife to his insides and slashed, slashed, slashed, leaving him a bloody, gory mess.
Only now, in this horrible, sickening moment did he fully get it. What that couture designation meant to her. It obliterated the junkyard dog. It liberated her from her past. Enabled her to fully reinvent herself based on her true self.
Her mom had chosen to work seasonal jobs and live in a trailer and litter the property with chunks of mangled metal. The blowback hit Knox. But, from the time she’d left Calamity until half hour ago, she’d been on a whole new path, one of her own making. She’d been building toward the highest level of art in the fashion world.
And now he’d destroyed her reputation.
White trash wedding designer. He’d heard it. Someone had said those actual words.
Jesus.
He lowered his head, closing his eyes—and there it was again, that scene he’d replay for the rest of his life. Knox rushing over to Robert.
Are you okay? Are you hurt?
And then…shooting Gray that look of utter betrayal.
She hadn’t believed him, of course.
What had he expected? Those two had a lifetime of intimacy and secrets, and he would always be shut out from it. He’d wanted to save her from Robert’s bullshit, and instead he’d ruined her reputation.
He was an asshole to think the dynamics between them would ever change. She owned his heart, but Robert owned hers.
The cab jolted to a stop. The driver slammed his steering wheel with the palm of his hand, cursing out the bike messenger who’d veered into his lane.
The jarring motion rattled the broken pieces in Gray’s brain into a clear picture.
I’m out. Done.
He was living the definition of insanity, trying to win the heart of a woman who would never get over her first love. And he was done.
He pulled out his phone and dialed his pilot.
“I miss you, too, Gray,” Sarah said.
“How soon can we take off?”
“Depends on where we’re going.” The humor left her voice.
“New Zealand.”
“I thought…okay. You got it.” But she didn’t hang up. “You okay?”
“Let’s just say I’m a slow learner. But I think I’ve figured it out, so yeah, I’m just fine.”
He’d walked away seven years ago for this exact reason. Because it would never change. Their little trio was set in stone—Robert in his addiction to drugs, Knox in her addiction to making him well, and Gray in his obsession with winning Knox’s whole heart.
It was time. He could hear the snip in his chest, severing the string that kept him tied to her. He was done.
Fin would get exactly what he wanted.
Gray’s full and total focus on winning.
At least Knox’s childhood had prepared her for this moment, when the bridal world referred to her as the white trash wedding gown designer. It didn’t mean she’d built up an immunity to it—of course not—it still hurt in ways that knocked the breath right out of her lungs—but at least it wasn’t so unfamiliar that she’d go off running to lick her wounds.
Quite the contrary. It was more her nature to come back swinging. Which was how she felt right then, as Jack Abrams and his people watched her models strut down the same path they’d walked only yesterday, when Robert and Gray had crashed her show.
Because, in the end, she knew what mattered. Her dresses were glorious. They were light and airy rooms with all the windows thrown open and gauze drapes fluttering in a breeze. They were fields of sweetly scented wildflowers and bathtubs billowing with iridescent bubbles. Her gowns were lush and feminine and sensual. They made women feel beautiful, sexy, and powerful.
In other words, the haters could go fuck themselves.
The people who got their power from making others feel small? She’d stuff them in the box, along with Cady and Melissa and the other idiots from her childhood.
So, yeah, a new, hateful moniker she could handle.
Losing Gray, though? Nothing could have prepared her for this kind of crushing pain.
She hadn’t heard from him once since he’d left her standing in the ruins of her show. Robert had gone back to the hotel to clean up, and she and the gallery owner had slapped on smiles and continued with the program. Some of the guests had left, but so what? People in the arts loved drama.
But any joy she should be experiencing had gone flat as the champagne left in uncorked bottles.
Because she’d lost Gray.
“Oh, I like that one.” Jack Abrams wore a skinny plaid suit. The lime green set against light brown and dark green actually looked really good. “Magnificent.” He pulled the cap off his Montblanc pen and twisted around in his chair to find her. “What do you call that one?”
She moved closer to him. “That’s Le Danseur.”
He scribbled it down in his notebook. Then, getting up, he walked away from his people and led her to a corner. “I’m going to tell you something. The press did some digging.”
“Okay.” Her muscles clenched, body going into battle mode.
“They know you grew up in a trailer and what the kids used to call you.”
Cady’s voice rang through her body. Junkyard dog.
“It’s given steam to the whole white trash designer thing. God knows why people get off on other people’s misfortune.” He shook his head dismissively. “It is what it is. But none of that matters because I love your gowns.”
Oh, my God. Is he going to offer me a contract? Gray, get back here. You need to hear this.
“You’re the freshest voice I’ve seen since Hayley Page, and I mean that sincerely.” He cupped his hand toward his people and flicked it. Let’s go. They all got up and headed out the door. Jack reached for her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Stay the course.”
“Oh, you can count on it.” She walked him to the door. “Thank you so much for coming.” But he was already ducking into the town car waiting for him at the curb.
Without offering her a contract. Why would he want to be associated with the white trash wedding gown designer? Who would want to back her now?
Oh, God. She might lose the MacAllister sisters. They wanted gowns from a hot up-and-coming designer. Not one who was ridiculed during fashion week.
Then, so be it. She had no control over the decisions people made.
This will all blow over. She’d get the custom
gowns done, do the pop-up. She’d be fine. This moment would pass. She was young, and she’d only get better. One day, she’d get that contract.
This I’ll recover from.
But she would never get over losing Gray. Because she finally understood he was more than a great man, a good friend, and the best business partner imaginable. All of those things she could replace. What she couldn’t replace was her soulmate. And Gray Bowie…he owned her, heart and soul.
When she turned back around, she found the gallery staff picking up the champagne flutes and little party plates from the hors d’oeuvres they’d served. Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out.
Callie. She answered right away. “Hey.”
“I just heard,” Callie said. “I’m so sorry.”
Oh. Well, that’s mortifying. “What did you hear, exactly?”
“About the show. My idiot future brother-in-law and his idiot friend.”
“It’s okay. I just had an appointment with Jack Abrams, and he really liked my work—”
“Knox. I’m not talking about your career. I’m talking about Gray and Robert.”
She heard a muffled sound, and then Delilah came on the line. “Knox? Robert’s an asshole for lying to you like that.”
She closed her eyes, as her fatal mistake spread through her like red wine on a white tablecloth.
Gray hadn’t randomly attacked Robert. Of course he hadn’t.
And yet…she’d jumped to that conclusion.
“What did he lie to me about?” Her voice sounded like it came from inside a tin can.
“You don’t know?”
No, because I never asked. I jumped to conclusions. “Please just tell me.” The anticipation made it hard to breathe. She was still pissed at Robert for getting into it with Gray, so she’d barely spoken to him since the show, but she hadn’t cast him out. No, she’d done that to Gray.
“The whole reason Gray flew to New York was because he ran into Mrs. Granger. Knox, she didn’t know anything about Robert putting a show together for you. He doesn’t have an arrangement with Granger’s.”
Once, on a late spring day, they’d hiked to the summit in T-shirts and shorts. It had been twenty degrees up there, and the icy cold on her bare skin had burned. That’s what she felt like right then, finding out that Robert had deceived her. That he’d lied about something so critical to her. “I didn’t know.”
