Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Instead of being miffed, Kendall laughed. “Promise me you’ll never change, Shae Shanahan. You might not know what to do with your life, but embrace your talents.”
“My talent for sticking my foot in my mouth?” I winced and looked away. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”
“Eh, it’s hard not to notice. Not all relationships are cut and dried. Some are complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” I said at the exact same time Rowan came into the room, holding a snakeskin blouse for Kendall, which had been sent over as part of the new Gucci collection.
We just stared at each other, and Kendall laughed.
“Jinx. You owe me a Coke,” I told him.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Something my mom used to say when we were kids. Isn’t that your decade?”
“Very funny. Must be a Midwest thing.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You’re not trying to get me to wear that, are you?” Kendall asked, spying the blouse. “Snake is just a different animal print.”
Rowan’s shoulders deflated. “Well, I tried.”
“I was your witness,” I said, and Rowan actually snickered.
It was the first moment of levity between us all week.
But it didn’t last. Soon after, Rowan went back to acting like I was practically invisible. It was going to be a long few weeks.
20
It figured that the first time I decided on using a car service in midday traffic instead of the subway, I was stuck in a traffic jam. But there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The problem was that I had shoes in my possession. Good shoes. The Louboutins Rowan was waiting for because he had to have them for Kendall’s shoot with Vogue. It was his fault on so many levels, though. First, because he wouldn’t invite me into his place last night to go over the designs like we’d gotten in the habit of doing. And second, because he’d left the heels in the shoe closet at the Midtown office, which was so unlike him.
He’d been off-kilter since our LA trip and more irritable than usual, so having him dismiss me at his apartment last night had hurt. It was obvious who was having the bigger problem getting over our fling or whatever it was, and it was not me.
Hell, who was I kidding? My stomach was in constant turmoil every time I was around him, and most days, I didn’t know if I’d be able to deal with it, let alone breathe properly when he was near, but knowing my plans for the end of the season pushed me forward.
Rowan, on the other hand, was almost unreasonable. Take this morning, for example. The photographer was on a schedule and had made it clear that everything needed to be on time. But upon realizing his mistake about the shoes, Rowan had sent me on a last-minute errand to retrieve them, and now the only reasonable option was to sit in the car and wait. There were other shoes available, of course, other choices, but those just would not do, apparently. This was the kind of stuff I simply didn’t get and probably never would in the world of fashion. In the meantime, he was constantly texting me, checking on my status, and I’d had it with that impossible man.
My cell is dying, I texted. Will see you when I see you. And then I shut off my phone, and fuck, that felt good. Screw him and his pressure campaign. It was only shoes, for fuck’s sake.
I snickered to myself. Who the fuck would notice if he used another brand or style of heels? The whole fashion world, that’s who. Christ, I had no idea how the hell I’d hung on in this job for this long.
By the time the traffic jam cleared, the first portion of the shoot was over. I walked into the photographer’s studio with the shoes, but it didn’t matter anymore.
While Kendall greeted me with a huge smile, Rowan looked morose, like someone had died.
I placed the shoebox near the rack of clothing. Kendall would be making an outfit change that matched different shoes with look and color—I knew that much, at least.
“I know you think I’m a god, but I do not control the traffic,” I said, going for sarcasm. “There was nothing I could do.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You could’ve gotten out and walked or jumped on the subway.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. As if I hadn’t considered all my options while stuck in the car?
“Wouldn’t have mattered. I was clear across town and would’ve been late regardless.” Plus, I would’ve killed myself to get there, and he wouldn’t have been happy no matter the situation. This man was hard to please, and I wasn’t going to bend over backward for him anymore. I’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.
“What did you end up using for footwear?” I asked, glancing at the rack and attempting to decipher the answer myself.