De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  “You are in the middle so—”

  “Nope.” She takes another drink.

  “Well, Shelby hates her, so that’s an issue already.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Eric. This is an issue for you.”

  “I just want the woman I had all intentions of saying the three words I said to you until this shit happened to not be another kick to the nuts, so I’m asking you, Autumn, and you owe me—”

  “I owe you?” She throws her head back and laughs.

  “I’ve never lied to you. I’m asking the same common courtesy in return.”

  “And I’m asking you to leave me the fuck alone because...” She stops and scowls at me then yells, “When I left, I was honest with you! I never tried to hurt you. But you wouldn’t stop! Even today, I was nice to you, Eric, and you come out with hurtful shit!”

  “Then I apologize...” I stop when she starts to stand.

  “Autumn—”

  “My God, can’t I just be alone!” she yells to the heavens.

  “Don’t you think you spend enough time alone?” I stand up, fighting the anger I felt back then.

  “Nope, not nearly enough. Clearly.” She begins to step back. “But if you need my honest opinion, the two of you are a match made in heaven. I mean, talk about two peas in a pod. I asked you how you were doing, and you throw voodoo pussy and ID’ing the next one, and then she comes at me with he hates you, and he told me everything about you. And the second time she pushed me, I did threaten to kick her ass if she did it again, because I am nobody’s bitch anymore, Eric.” Tears begin falling, and she slaps them away. “So, the Eric you’ve become, I’d say is perfect for her. Do me a favor and don’t send me a wedding invitation.”

  She bends down to pick up the blanket, and I feel the loss hit me in the chest like a tidal wave…again.

  “Autumn, I apologize and—”

  “Just leave me alone please, unless this is your thing”— she waves her hand in front of herself—“watching someone struggle. But newsflash: I’m so much stronger than I was three years ago. So, you may have gotten to see tears”—she bats them away—“but they are not for you. They are mine, and you can’t have them.”

  Unable to stop myself, I grab her biceps and yell at her the way she just did me, “You fucking hurt me! You did because you couldn’t tell me you were hurting or why you refuse to accept good. So, newsflash: I don’t want your damn tears, Autumn! I want your heart!”

  Holy fucking shit.

  I release her and step back, holding my hands up and correcting myself, “Wanted. Wanted your heart.” She simply turns and starts walking away.

  “I heard you on the phone today, Autumn.” She freezes.

  “I heard all the reasons for your walls and all you’re doing to make amends with your parents, and you’re still leaving one person left without an apology.”

  She turns, rage in her eyes. “You need an apology? Fine. I’m so fucking sorry for all the damage I did to you in a two month span that you clearly hate me for.”

  “And I’m fucking sorry that, in three years, you still don’t believe the words you said to whoever it was you were on the phone with. I don’t need your apology, Autumn, but I’ll be damned if I let the one person I ever loved keep hurting themselves. You save your apology for you. And you better accept it! Then maybe your fucking career and someone else’s family won’t come first. Maybe then you’ll accept that, when someone loves you, they do it without expecting anything more than all you are.”

  She huffs as she searches for a response then nods curtly. “Back at ya.”

  I watch her walk toward the parking lot and use all the restraint I have to hold myself back. I watch as a car pulls up, and a man opens the door to the back seat. He tips his hat to me, walks around the car, gets in, and they leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Eric

  Six Months Later…

  At NYU, sitting in class, just minutes away from the cause of my temporary insanity over the last few months, I doodle on my tablet while I listen to the professor moderate the discussion on my assignment. A mock case study about self destructive behaviors.

  “He has abandonment issues,” one of my nameless, faceless peers states.

  “Elaborate,” the professor advises.

  “He held on to two obviously unhealthy relationships because he lost his mother.”

  Bullshit, I laugh to myself. My stepmother issues have a fuck of a lot more to do with my relationship issues than a loss I don’t even remember that well.

  “I think he’s sexually deviant,” another peer interjects.

  “Elaborate,” the professor prompts again.

  “Relationship two was long over, and he still had sexual relations with her and admitted calling out the name of the subject from relationship one. I think it was purposeful and deviant.”

  Okay, so I embellished. It was one time, and I didn’t mean to call out Autumn’s name as I came, but I did, and that was when Kylie attempted to beat the shit out of me, broke up with me, which I’d already done, she didn’t get the memo, and I was released from my contract. Not one of my better moments, but the bright side is I’d been trying to end it for a month, and she wouldn’t have it. Never even saw her when she didn’t just show up. Talk about a control freak. Then she found me at a bar, drunk...Wouldn’t Shelby have a fit about that? She went down for the first time ever, and I slipped.

  I was lucky to leave the bar’s bathroom with my dick intact. Not that it means a damn thing anymore. Literally a fucking joystick for a game I call Which Picture of Autumn Can Get You Off the Quickest.

  Okay, so maybe I am...a bit deviant.

  Oh fucking well.

  I have, however, been able to avoid showing up at her door now that she’s back and in charge of de la Porte U.S. Oliver has taken leave and gone back for some special detail for the US Army.

  Dad had a fucking cow that it was a paid leave. I told him if he kept talking shit about men he didn’t know, I’d join. He shut up.

  “Mr. Cartwright?” the professor calls on me, and I look up from the screen.

  “I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

  “Your thoughts?”

  “Right. Well, I think in all case studies, it’s best to get both sides of the story.”

  “Which rarely happens.”

  I nod.

  “Can you tell me your thoughts from the notes taken on the subject?”

  “I think that, until the person is ready to accept what they can and can’t control, then they may as well be floating in space.”

  “Very philosophical. But as a professional psychologist, a patient may expect more direction on how to move forward. How would you advise?”

  “I’d tell them to change the things they can change, accept those they cannot, and find happiness within those parameters.”

  “He hates you.” Claudia, my new and only friend in class, laughs as she takes her drink off the bar as I sling my coat over the back of my stool. “How unfair is it that I got paired with you?”

  I laugh as I sit down. “I would apologize, but it’s beyond my control.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” I say as I grab the menu from the bar.

  “Was that case study that started the Professor Fullman slash Eric Cartwright feud yours?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  She palms her face in embarrassment, and I laugh.

  “Not a deviant; just got my heart broken by the only woman I ever really wanted to love.”

  “What made her different from subject two?”

  “She has a heart the size of the sky and room enough for all the stars she holds in it to shine. I wanted to be one of them.”

  “So, Jennifer, who said Mommy issues, was correct?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you craved her love.”

  “And more than that. I craved showing her the same in return.”

  “Th
at’s it?”

  “We shouldn’t go into any further details, because then you may think your theory holds weight.”

  “Deviant.”

  “I don’t think it’s devious to crave constant contact and fenceless borders between two consenting adults.”

  “I think you could have that with anyone you choose.”

  “Which is possible until you meet the one who was meant to be yours.”

  “Fate.”

  “Love written in the stars.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I laugh. “What?”

  “We’re going to need one hell of a case study to show him your philosophical views hold water in the field of psychology.”

  “We’ll make it happen then.” I stand up. “If the bartender gets around to us while I’m in the bathroom, order me a strip steak, medium, would you?” She nods.

  “I’m buying, so get whatever you want.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t—”

  “You got stuck with the worst possible partner in this, so let me buy you a damn steak, girl.”

  When I walk back from the bathroom, I nearly trip over my own feet when I see Autumn sitting next to Claudia, both smiling and chatting like best friends.

  She looks gorgeous, as usual.

  When she looks up at me, Claudia turns, too, then smiles and waves me over.

  I walk over, and Claudia introduces me to Autumn.

  I shake her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “I told her to join us until her date arrives. You don’t mind, do you?”

  I shake my head and sit down. “Not at all.”

  Claudia shoots back, “I just had a brilliant idea for our project.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, looking at Autumn, who shifts uncomfortably then takes a drink.

  “You have an ex that you’re still hung up on, right?”

  I choke on my water then set the cup down to cover my mouth, so I don’t spit the entire contents across the bar.

  “You okay?”

  I nod and hold up a finger.

  She continues, “Autumn is dating because an ex told her she wasn’t accepting of love.”

  Autumn shrugs, cocks her head, and holds up her glass as if to say cheers, and then takes a drink.

  “What do you think?” Claudia asks me.

  “About what?” I ask back, wiping the water off my chin with the back of my hand.

  “We promise to go on one date a week then meet here once a week to talk about how it went, what we felt, and see if it took us a step closer to getting over the past and finding the person you described as your one true love. Or love written in the stars, as you said.”

  “I say we cut out the middleman and just date each other.”

  Claudia smacks me. “No threesome shit. But case in point, you are a deviant.” She looks at Autumn. “Called out a girl’s name while—”

  “Claudia...” I try to stop her.

  She looks at me. “Well, if we’re working together—”

  “I don’t think we’ve all agreed to it.”

  “Well, then do it for me. I haven’t dated in three years.”

  “Why?” Autumn asks, sincere as shit.

  “My one true love died.”

  “Aw...fuck, Claudia. I am so sorry.” I wrap an arm around her and hug her.

  “So, let’s do this.” She smiles and looks at Autumn.

  “You in?”

  Without even thinking, Autumn nods. “Of course.”

  Now Claudia looks at me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, but I get to screen your dates. A lot of shady assholes out there.”

  Autumn interjects, “Then we get to pick yours, too.”

  “Fine by me. And we should try to line them up at the same place, date, and time.”

  “Really?” Autumn laughs.

  “I think he’s right.” Claudia nods. “No one needs to put themselves in danger.”

  Claudia leaves before us; she needed to get her cats fed. That left Autumn and me alone.

  “Let me see your phone.” I reach over and hold my hand out.

  “Um, no.” She laughs.

  “I wanna see your dating profile and the idiot who stood you up.”

  “I’m still going to have to go with no.”

  I pull mine out of my pocket and put it in front of her. “It’s part of the project you just agreed to. Go ahead and set me up on one of the apps.”

  “You aren’t taking this seriously.” She tries not to smile.

  “I’m gonna have to hit pause on this thing we agreed to and tell you I’m sorry.”

  She taps the bar. “I just hit play. I don’t care to relive that moment.”

  I tap the bar. “I’m sorry, but seeing you fucked with me.”

  She taps the bar. “It’s in the past.”

  I tap it several times. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She rolls her head around like she’s not sure whether to say yes or no to a question requiring neither answer.

  “Talk to me,” I whisper a plea.

  “I think this is a horrible idea. I already feel bad for poor Claudia not knowing that you’re the guy I’m going to prove wrong.”

  “Don’t feel bad. She needs this just as badly as you and I do.”

  “No sabotaging or this is an insult to her and your studies.”

  I reach my hand out. “Deal.”

  She looks at my hand, blinks a few times, and then taps the bar. “No matter what, Eric, you and I will never be together. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I miss just being around you. You’re easy and real.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t look at someone every day and wonder what they would miss out on in life if not for me.”

  “Autumn—”

  She puts her fingers over my lips. “I know I’m foreshadowing here, but you and I are—”

  I nip at her fingers, and she pulls them back.

  “Written in the stars.”

  “—a tonic of toxins and lust,” she finishes.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Eric

  She still wants me, I think as I lie in bed, looking up at the ceiling and trying like crazy to fall asleep.

  And let’s be honest here; her profile is a shit show. The About Me section basically describes a workaholic, and no matter how hot she looks in her pics—all very professional looking as well—it just screams uptight and no fun.

  Total shit, but hey, I’m not saying a damn thing.

  When she showed me the man who stood her up, I couldn’t even stop myself from laughing.

  “Babe, no. Fuck no.”

  “Eric, it’s what I want, not you. And babe doesn’t work for us.”

  “You’re right; us and work just don’t fit.”

  And that’s the issue. Us isn’t work. It’s just fucking good —all of it. I wouldn’t give up a second of it. Even the pain.

  I walked her home. She looked at the sky a lot.

  “Hard to see the stars in the city.”

  “Luckily, there are a million other beautiful things to look at.”

  “Just one that—”

  She elbowed me, and I laughed.

  “You need to turn it off,” she scolded me.

  I stayed at the bottom of the steps and watched her punch in her code, slip through the door, and then wave out the window.

  I waved back, turned around, looked up, and saw a billboard of my half-naked ass.

  I turned around, laughing, and she cracked the door open. “Go away.”

  I pointed up. “Never.”

  “Goodnight, Eric.”

  “I’m gonna be here all night.”

  “Like hell you are.” She laughed.

  I pointed up again. “Oh yes, I am.”

  She slammed the door and turned off the light.

  Tonight, I will sleep, because not only do I know she wants me, I know damn well she’s in love with me, and I am going to show her that for every reason she feels she’s unlo
vable, there are ten reasons as to why she is and the only one that counts.

  I will have to hug the hell out of Claudia for this genius plan and the group chat we’re now in. We shoot each other screenshots of the top three choices then narrow it down in the chat before meeting and setting up the dates. Oddly, none of us have a social life.

  Today is the day we meet.

  I messaged Autumn to meet ten minutes early to discuss a side project.

  She told me no.

  I replied simply, I need you.

  She didn’t respond.

  Sitting at the bar, fifteen minutes early, I order an appetizer platter of sliders, loaded fries, and nachos. And I’m drinking a beer for the first time since the incident at the bar with Kylie.

  Beer isn’t my preference, but whiskey will get me frisky, and the bubbly can wait until I have a reason to celebrate.

  I hear her sigh and look up from my phone.

  “You came early.” I stand up and pull out her stool. When she turns her back to me, I help her remove her coat and whisper, “No regrets.”

  She whips around and scowls at me. “This is a bad idea.”

  I laugh because I was fucking with her on purpose.

  She rolls her eyes and tries not to laugh.

  “I just wanted to talk about Claudia before she got here.”

  “Well, we need to set up some”—she clears her throat —“parameters.”

  “Sure thing.” I put her coat on the back of the stool then hold it, so it doesn’t swivel when she sits. “Let’s make a list of rules, shall we?”

  “Ha, ha.” She sits back and releases a long, sweet breath.

  “Rough day?”

  She sighs. “I love my job.”

  “I love that about you.”

  She looks at me from out of the corner of her eye.

  “Sorry, babe—I mean, Autumn—but it’s amazing. Most people hate what they do while the lucky ones look like they wish they had more hours in the day.”

  I look at the bartender. “She’ll have a glass of—”