The Ruin (Convenience Book 3)

by Stella Gray

  Maybe I’m hanging onto enough of our shared past for the both of us.

  “Got some heavy thoughts rolling around in there?” Brooklyn says gently.

  “Yeah. But don’t worry about it,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s just have a good time.”

  She’s been excited about this party for days now, and I don’t want her to worry about me. I love the way her face lights up when she’s excited, and she deserves to have fun with Tori and Emzee. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze as I pull into the underground parking lot.

  When we get up to Stefan and Tori’s place, we find the apartment full to bursting with people. Many I know; many I don’t. Tori’s stepmom Michelle is here, along with a gaggle of Tori’s college friends and her BFF Grace, who I’ve met a few times before. Some of Stefan’s close contacts in the industry are milling around as well.

  They must have hired a professional decorator, because the apartment is transformed. String lights decorate the ceiling, hanging beside big tissue paper balls in pastel colors. There are balloon arrangements and a huge topiary with a rocking horse as the base. A buffet stretches along one wall in the living room, the furniture moved to make way for tables decorated with small bouquets of eucalyptus and baby’s breath, little pacifiers, and a smattering of other things.

  “You’re here!” Tori squeals, making a beeline over to us.

  “This place looks amazing!” Brooklyn exclaims right back, giving Tori a big hug.

  I give Tori’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as the two of them start talking nonstop about the decorator and what came from where. Stefan strolls over and hands me a drink, which I take eagerly, and then stands beside me with a hand in his pocket, two fingers of whiskey in the other.

  “So, this is what dads-to-be have to go through, huh?” I say, eyeing a massive tower of blue, pink, and yellow cupcakes. “You putting your money on team blue or team pink?”

  He smirks. “I already know the baby’s gender. This hoopla is for all of you.”

  I take a sip of my drink. “Well in that case I hope the food is good, because I’m starving.” Turning to my brother, I raise my glass and give his tumbler an awkward clink. “Congrats, dad.”

  We both cringe. It sounded way too much like I’m speaking to our father. I backpedal. “Maybe we should just call you pops, or pop-pop. Big daddy. Daddy-O. Literally anything else.”

  Stefan laughs—a real laugh—and shakes his head. “Pop-pop. What the fuck, Luka?”

  We observe the melee in silence for a bit. But still, I’m dying to know something.

  “How’s all this feel?”

  “Are you a therapist now?” my brother says sarcastically. “Tell me about your feelings. How did you feel about that?” He polishes off his drink and shrugs. “How’s it supposed to feel?”

  I let out a long breath. “I don’t know, man. This stuff is so out of my wheelhouse that I couldn’t begin to tell you how any of it is supposed to feel. I guess I just want to know you’re…okay with all of it.”

  “Hey. Look at me.” His gaze flickers with understanding. “It feels good, Luka. I’m going to have a baby with the woman I love—it’s that simple. And yeah, those are two things I never imagined I’d have or want in my life. But it feels right. Hell, look around. All these people came here today to support us. I’m not in this alone, you know? It’s going to be an adventure.”

  I’m nodding along when someone calls his name from across the room and he excuses himself. Nursing my drink, I’m in no hurry to join the others.

  Brooklyn walks over, champagne in her hand. “Why are you hiding in a corner? Come see the fountain. Tori’s friend Grace ordered it from this glassmaker in Italy. It spouts cycles of blue and pink champagne!”

  I take her hand and let her lead me to it. We make our way around, mingling and laughing and drinking champagne from the ridiculous fountain. Through it all, I feel more and more settled about Stefan and Tori’s future. They’re in this together. Like Brooklyn and I are.

  This is the first event we’ve attended as a real couple, I realize. Not just for show, but as part of a family that’s tight and trusting and looks forward to spending time with each other. It feels like the life I never knew I wanted. A new normal. A wife who has taken on my family’s drama as her own and still loves them anyway. Friends who make the time to celebrate. A new life, ready to come into this world.

  As I look around the room, I find I’m genuinely happy for Stefan, and excited to be an uncle. Does this mean I’m an adult now?

  Suddenly, my sister Emzee claps her hands to get everyone’s attention as two caterers walk around with trays of cupcakes. They hand them out as Tori appears from the kitchen, holding a bouquet of white helium balloons.

  “We’re having dessert first!” Emzee exclaims. “On the count of three, Tori is going to pop the balloons while you all bite into your cupcakes, and the baby’s gender will be revealed!”

  Stefan walks over with a gigantic, cartoonish diaper pin and stands beside his wife. They lock eyes and I can tell how over the moon he is in this moment, like it’s just the two of them against the world.

  Brooklyn takes my hand and I wrap my fingers around hers.

  Emzee steps back to shout, “One…two…three!”

  Stefan and Tori use the diaper pin to pop the balloons, and a cascade of pink glitter confetti rains down everywhere. Brooklyn lets out a whoop and takes a big bite of her cupcake, nudging me to do the same. We get mouthfuls of pink filling as we watch the glitter scatter and shimmer in the air.

  A baby girl.

  My heart flips.

  “Oh, Luka!” Brooklyn exclaims. “A girl! We’re going to have a niece!”

  She pulls me toward her and kisses me. The feel of her lips soothes the tumult going on inside me. Excitement. Worry. Anxiety. Hope. Cupping her chin, I deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth as I try to tell her exactly how I feel without using words. She draws back and touches my face, then turns to congratulate them. Stefan looks at me. I smile.

  My brother and his wife are going to have a daughter.

  I hope like hell that we deserve her.

  Brooklyn

  Chapter 20

  I seriously can’t believe Steffany & Co. are paying me to do this.

  It’s going to be my first time modeling for a luxury jewelry designer, but I hope to God it’s not my last. Not only is the company flying me and my manager (a.k.a. husband) first class to Canada, but they also arranged for a private car to take us directly from the airport to Banff’s ritziest lodge, a chateau that looks like a magic castle against the mountain backdrop. My suite has its own stone fireplace, and the balcony overlooks the turquoise glacial waters of Moraine Lake and the majestic Canadian Rockies. I feel like I’ve been offered a vacation, not a job.

  When Luka initially informed me that the Steffany people were giving me a contract, I’d assumed the shoot would take place somewhere in Chicago, or at least in the continental US. But when he said it was going to be in Banff, I couldn’t stop myself from jumping up and down with excitement. It’s not just a pretty ski town tucked away in Canada’s oldest national park—though it is that—it’s hands down one of the most beautiful destinations on the planet.

  “Is it safe to assume that’s a yes?” he had teased me, and I’d thrown myself in his arms.

  “This is incredible! I’ve dreamed of visiting there, but I never thought I’d be crossing it off my bucket list so soon!” I’d blurted. “Do you think the hot springs will be open?”

  “They’re open year-round,” he told me.

  “Yes!” But then my mood had quieted, as I realized that I’d be leaving town just when we were finally starting to get our marriage back on track. “How long will I be gone for?”

  “Just a few days,” he’d said, avoiding my gaze in a way that seemed suspicious.

  “Soo…what aren’t you telling me?” I asked, stepping back to narrow my eyes at him.

  Clearing his throat, he’d said, “
It’s not that. I just wanted to ask if you’d be interested in having me accompany you on the shoot. But no pressure—it’s your call.”

  Um, what? Luka Zoric was asking my permission to come to one of my photo shoots? For a moment I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say. In the old days, he’d just show up on set if he felt like it. Now it was my call?

  It would be a lie to say I wasn’t wary—he’d definitely made himself a nuisance in the past, arguing with crew and photographers and asserting his artistic opinions left and right—but the truth was, I wanted him with me. Plus, now that we were on more equal footing in our relationship, it was time to see if he could prove himself as both my partner and manager in a professional setting.

  “Of course I would,” I answered. “Honestly, I’d love for you to be there.”

  And now here we are.

  As the plane descends toward Calgary International, I lean over Luka and point out the window at the brilliant blue sky and the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Even from ninety miles away, I can tell that the weather is going to be picture-postcard perfect.

  “Look at the lake!” I exclaim.

  Crystal blue-green water reflects back at us from a heavenly body of water cradled between shallow mountain peaks. The image is enough to keep me smiling even as the plane jostles onto the tarmac with a loud, rough landing. Luka’s arm is around me, our hands entwined, and as the captain comes over the PA to chat with the passengers, I take it as a prime opportunity to pout my lips at my husband and close my eyes for a kiss. Cupping the back of my head, he kisses me slowly, leisurely, neither of us breaking apart until the plane comes to a full stop.

  At baggage claim, we’re met by a driver holding a sign that says my name, much to my delight. The older gentleman insists on pushing our luggage cart all the way to the private car, and then we’re treated to a scenic ninety-minute drive to the fancy hotel where we’re staying. As luck would have it, we check in just in time to make the afternoon tea reservation that Steffany & Co. has arranged for us. I feel like an actual princess.

  Luka is less impressed, clearly not having years of girlhood tea party memories rushing back to him the way I am, but he goes along with it for my benefit, from choosing his tea to sampling the variety of tiny sandwiches, tea cakes, and scones with cream that are presented to us on a tiered silver tray. We take our time, sipping and nibbling and looking out the huge windows at the amazing view of the mountains.

  “It looks like a screensaver,” I murmur with awe.

  I’m not sure what’s so funny about that, but my husband can’t stop laughing.

  We make our way up to the room, which is just as rustic-luxurious as it looked on the website, but before I can throw myself on the bed and pass out, my phone rings. It’s the photographer’s assistant, who says they’re already waiting for us in the lobby so we can talk about wardrobe, location, and staging. The first shoot is scheduled for this evening.

  We’re met downstairs by a tall Frenchman named Remi Duquesne—a photog famous for his stark, iconic celebrity portraits—and his assistant Malia. They welcome us with open arms.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you both,” Remi says, his accent pleasingly thick, air-kissing our cheeks in that classic French way that I find so charming. “I don’t normally work on commercial photography, but I could not turn down this opportunity.”

  With a smile, he gestures at the view out the windows.

  We find out the shoot is going to be really laid back, despite the huge budget. Remi explains that it’s not his style to over-plan things, and that he always gets his best shots by letting his subjects relax and act natural. “Which is why Steffany & Co. hired me,” he adds. “They want something fresh and different, not their usual over-staged, airbrushed ads.”

  “So what’s the angle?” I ask, filled with curiosity. I’d figured I’d be doing the usual S & Co. type of modeling—posing stiffly in a foyer or a ballroom in a black sheath dress with a cold expression on my face, exuding steely confidence and wealth. This sounds very different.

  Remi confirms by saying, “There’s no precise vision for the campaign—they’ve just asked me to capture ‘diamonds in a winter wonderland.’ To that end, we’ve scouted a nearby farm location, where we’ll have access to canoes, some hiking trails. I would love your input.”

  Normally this is where Luka would step in and take charge, but when I glance over expecting him to jump in, he just puts a hand on the small of my back and nods. “I’m sure Brooklyn has some brilliant ideas. She has a great eye for detail.”

  My grin widens, and as I start pitching ideas to Remi, I realize how much I’ve actually learned over the last few months of watching Luka rely on his instincts at my shoots.

  “So you’re not opposed to being outdoors?” Remi asks.

  “Not at all,” I say. “We’ll get better shots the closer we get to the snow. And let’s try the canoe, even if we’re just at the water’s edge. This is the fantasy version of the holidays, right?”

  “Excellent,” Malia chimes in. I notice she already has on her hiking boots.

  Remi nods. “Good. Mother Nature will be the star. And the stones will sparkle just like the snow, reflect the lake and sky, which is fitting since they’re products of the earth, no?”

  Luka tells me, “Just take in all that nature and let the joy play out on your face. That’s what’ll really sell people on Steffany & Co. at the end of the day.”

  I’m loving this shoot already.

  Remi steps away to take a call, and comes back a minute later with a huge grin.

  “I’ve just learned they’re letting us into the barn if we want—how would you feel about riding a horse on the trail?”

  There was a time when I would have deferred to the photographer’s suggestions, insisted I was up for anything—nudity, overtime, dangerous pictures on the side of a cliff, anything to get the job and be seen as an easy model to work with. But now I’m a lot less desperate to please.

  “I’m definitely game to explore the trails, but to be honest, I’ve never ridden a horse, and my first time isn’t going to be up a snowy mountain pass.” I laugh a little, and the others join in. “But other than that, I’m down for whatever. Let’s do this!”

  Luka and I head up to our room to grab a few things and then meet back up with Remi, Malia, and the small makeup and wardrobe team.

  As we head out to a pair of waiting SUVs, Remi continues throwing out pitches for the shoot. How do I feel about nudity or lingerie beneath my outerwear? Am I comfortable wading into the pond at the farm? Climbing a tree strung with lights? Remi and I brainstorm back and forth, and I set clear boundaries. To my total gratification, no one gives any pushback.

  What about lying on the snow? Holding a newborn lamb?

  That last one floors me, so I look to Luka, wondering what I’m about to get into.

  Remi goes on, “Nothing says ‘fantasy’ more than a woman draped in diamonds with a lamb in her arms, non?”

  “As long as I’m not in my underwear for that part,” I say.

  Luka and I can’t help but laugh.

  Malia pulls out her phone to call the wardrobe team in the other SUV. “We’re going to start with the gown and the long coat,” she says by way of greeting. “And Brooklyn is okay with lingerie, but it’s still a maybe depending on Remi’s vision. Keep it on standby, just in case.”

  We arrive on location at the farm, and it’s breathtaking. Mountains surround us, the air is crisp with the smell of pine needles and fresh earth, and the lake stretches out as far as the eye can see. Though it was a balmy seventy degrees today, it’s much colder at this altitude, and the temperature continues to drop as nighttime approaches. With drifts of snow higher up the mountainside, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting a “winter” vibe in these surroundings. There’s a weathered dock reaching out over the blue water, where canoes are tied up waiting for us. Near the barn I see two trailers set up, one for wardrobe and makeup,
and the other for Remi.

  First things first, I head off to get primped. The stylist, Becca, twists my hair into a complicated braided masterpiece like I’m a Viking warrior. Then the makeup artist takes his turn on me, applying heavy black liner and silver eyeshadow, my false lashes long and thick.

  After I slip into the beaded, Roaring-20s-type gown, I look in the mirror and grin. I really do look like some kind of fantasy snow queen.

  When I step out of the trailer, my husband looks at me and does a double take. He raises one brow, once again doing his best to hold back an amused grin.

  “I like the hair.” He winks.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I just…like the hair. Are you supposed to be a snow elf or something?”

  I pretend to slap him, but he darts out of the way. The stylist returns with the finishing touches—an elaborate bib necklace that resembles a spider’s web strung with brilliant diamond droplets, some delicate stacking rings for my fingers, and a pair of earrings in gleaming platinum, fronted by flower-shaped clusters of more diamonds.

  Once I’m fully decorated, Becca holds up a hand mirror so I can admire the jewels. I’m amazed at how well they pull this otherworldly look together.

  “Now those, I like,” Luka says, tracing my earlobe gently and making me shiver.

  “Me, too,” I say, turning my head this way and that to make the earrings sparkle.

  The stylist grins. “I have a feeling these are going to be the star of the entire collection. They go with everything, the design is timeless, and they’re comfortable enough to wear every day.” She lowers her voice as if telling a secret. “They’re seventy-five hundred a pair!”

  “I’ll be very careful with them,” I say solemnly.