"How does it feel to officially be the baddest bitch in fashion?"
"Like Vogue should've picked someone other than you to conduct this interview..." I laughed a little, taking a sip of my steaming hot vanilla latte.
France always knew how to make a fucking coffee. I wasn't sure if it was the cream or the workers, but somehow it just tasted better.
The quaint Paresian cafe with the lavender and silver swirling wallpaper and tiny white China, was only a block and a half from Chantel's flat. Still, we garnered more than a few stares on our way over from Paris' most snobby elite.
"Whatever, you know you wouldn't have half as much fun with some typical douche bag reporter..." Chantel tapped her cigarette into her fine China, despite the no smoking sign posted in her native language...three feet to her left.
"That's true." I smirked, watching as the shop owner glared, but ultimately said nothing. The kind of foot traffic Chantel could provide this place, with one social media post, was insane.
Over the past three years, since my birthday party at The Santa Monica Pier, Chantel's career had boomed. She was the face of Louis Vuitton Haute Couture, and had dated her way through most of the Ligue de Football Proffesional.
"So...tell me, how does it feel to be so incredible?"
"You first." I grinned around my coffee.
"Please, chienne." She ashed her cigarette again, her French accent thicker when she cursed. "I'm nowhere near your level. What did Forbes just call you? The next big fashion icon? Billionaire body image?"
"That was just to sell magazines..."
"So you're really not worth a billion dollars?!"
I glanced down at the blinking red light between us. As much as I would like to think of this as just a casual chat between friends, we were being recorded to sell even more magazines.
Truth be told, I didn't really know how much money was in my various bank accounts. That shit never really mattered to me. My happiness was dictated by myself, and my health, and my family and friends. Not a stack...or several million stacks, of paper.
"All I'll say is that I've been extremely lucky." I replied carefully. "Between my family and friends, I've never had to go without."
"Is Katrina Park involved in that friend group?" Chantel raised a challenging eyebrow, ashing her cigarette directly onto the recorder.
I eyed the flashing red light, my mind replaying months and months of turmoil. Years of tears, and inadvertent trashing one another in the media. Tearing apart our empire. The empire we built together, starting with that park bench in the heart of Paris over ten years ago. The one twenty blocks south of the cafe Chantel and I were currently parked in.
"There's a lot of history there." I allowed slowly. My mind flashed to the way she let me go after Ethan died. 'Giving me my space' while she grew her own name on the back of my image. There had been years of litigation and hurt feelings, most of which had been on my end. I felt like she'd used my own sorrow and personal drama to publicize her less than exciting fall line. The leggings and the over-sized sweaters didn't quite hit right, something she later blamed on my lack of involvement. My deepest apologies for grieving my dead fiancé. So sorry it inconvenienced your line...
"Katrina Park and I are...in a different space now. Lots has happened, but we've both agreed to bury the hatchet."
"At your solo show tonight?" Chantel winked as she lit another cigarette. She knew for a fact that Katrina would be in attendance. We'd been talking a lot these past few weeks, deciding it was time to move forward. Women supporting women and all of that.
"We'll see how it plays out..." I grinned, motioning one finger in a circle to say 'let's wrap things up'.
"Well, Avery Eileen Adams, it was nice getting to sit down and speak to you." Chantel did a hand job motion above the table with her free hand.
"You too." I matched her rhythmic pumping. If Vogue only knew...
"One last question before we conclude."
"Okay." I finished my coffee and gently placed the mug into the receptacle which faced the window. A solid hoard of faces and hands cupped around the glass to get a peak inside. The policia should be here any moment, breaking up all the fun.
"When's the wedding?!" She motioned to the massive, flawless oval cut diamond on my left hand. I leaned forward and snapped off the recorder, watching as the diamond glittered in the LED lights.
"Where the fuck is your journalistic integrity, Chan?!" I groaned, collecting my purse and shoving a healthy tip onto the table.
"I left it at that guys flat last night."
"Along with your panties?"
"Those really were my favorite La Perlas." She sighed as we each pushed pairs of dark sunglasses onto our eyes.
"I'll buy you some more for your bridesmaid gift."
"Crotchless?"
"Is there any other kind?!" I feigned shock as she dug around in her purse. I did my best to hold in my laughter as she looked once at the shop owner, and leaned into the non-smoking sign reapplying her cherry red lipstick in the reflection.
"You. Are. Evil."
"Guilty as charged."
I linked my arm with hers as we pushed the doors open and walked directly into the swarm of people. "I would love to continue the discussion about your soul, but I have five hours until my first solo show and I have a lot of shit to get done." I felt the anxiety bubble up in my gut until it clawed across my chest.
"Well, let's fucking get going! I have to make sure my shit still fits anyways." We both climbed into the back of an all black Rolls Royce.
"It will. You're absolutely perfect."
"So are you."
*************
Bulbs flashed brilliantly against my green eyes, and my porcelain smile until I felt like I might just crack right apart.
"It was absolutely epic!" Katrina gushed, hugging me closely until I felt like she might snap me in half. Our embrace was equal parts apology and recognition. We'd both made mistakes over these past three years, but we'd also both grown professionally and creatively...without one another.
"You think so?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely." Katrina squeezed me again. "I'm really proud of you, Adams."
"Thanks, Park. It means a lot that you're here. Truly." I hugged her again.
"I, for one, can't wait to order myself one of your rain coats." Donatella Versace gushed from my other side.
"And a pair of your combat boots." Tory Burch piped up, embracing my hands on the other side.
The entire thing was too much. These women of fashion that were dynasty players. I felt like a small fish in a vast ocean, but these ladies weren't sharks. They were just bigger fish who were willing to be here for me, and help me grow with their wisdom and support.
"Thank you all for being here." I choked. "I just think I need some..."
"Air?" Katrina smiled knowingly.
"Yeah."
The women made a way for me, and I took it, escaping past all my best friends who were wearing my clothing, and out the side door.
As I bent at the waist, sucking in greedy pulls of the crisp Parisian night air, I felt a manic giggle bubble up in the back of my throat. It continued to rise, until I was in full-fledged hysterics, clutching the waist on my flowey red taffeta gown.
I'd chosen the gown for my collection because it was whimsical and romantic - entirely fitting for this point in my life. I was in love again. Living part-time in the city of love. With best friends who I adored, and a fashion industry that finally adored me back. My life had come full circle, and things were looking pretty damn sweet.
"Miss, are you okay?" A heavily accented French accent called to me and I righted myself, pushing my fingers through my short blonde curls.
"Yes, I'm fine!" I called back, but my voice cut a little short when I saw who the voice belonged to.
There. Across Avenue Winston Churchill was a woman with a quaint cherry red cart, housing very delicious croissants.
"Madame Delphine?!" I all but shouted, making my way across the sporadic traffic, to her station. Her short dark hair now held a smattering of grey, and her hands had more than a hint of arthritis as she hugged me to her. "How many years has it been?!" I pulled away to examine the fine wrinkles around her smiling eyes, and her modest white dress.
"Enough years for you to grow into a woman." She smiled warmly. "And a very successful one at that."
I waved her off, but she pointed behind me to my name in lights. Oh right, my show.
"I always knew you were going to make it. Even when you were so poor, and so tired that you could hardly stand up straight. You have something different than the rest of the girls that come through. You've got a shimmer."
"A shimmer?"
"Like a fine diamond." She held my hand closely, examining the engagement ring that proudly sat there.
"I always knew you two would end up together."
"You did?"
"Yes. You were fighting it so hard that night I met him. But when I saw the way he looked at you, like you hung the moon and the stars, I knew he was done for. I just didn't know if you felt the same way."
"I do. I always have." I admitted, grinning at her.
"Good." She released me, remembering her French formalities. "A croissant for old times sake?"
"I'd love to, but I don't have any money on me."
"Consider this one on the house." She reached into her cart and pulled out a steaming handful of buttery goodness.
"I can't accept that." I waved her off, even though my mouth was watering.
"I insist." She held it out to me, and after a few moments of hesitation I accepted it.
"Thank you." I smiled widely as I took my first bite. "It's just as good as I remember."
"Well of course." She mocked offense. "I still make the best in the city."
"That you do." I took another bite and made a mental snapshot of the name printed on the side of her cart, planning to send her a healthy IOU, and post about her expertise on my social media.
After we said our goodbyes and hugged twice more, I made my way through the gates of the Toulieres Garden.
As I nibbled on the buttery goodness of the croissant and walked easily in my white block heels, I admired the way the city lights shined. When I did this same walk over ten years ago, I'd felt so lost. A twenty year old version of myself who was so desperate to be loved while not loving herself at all.
I'd searched for acceptance and recognition in all the wrong places. When in the end, I only had to find it in myself. It was such a simple answer, but one that evaded me for over half of my life.
Couples moved around me in the warm evening air, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings, and I smiled. The city of love was truly in love, and I was lucky enough to be another participant.
As if on cue, I rounded a large hedge and found my old park bench. The one I'd sat on all those years ago with Katrina. That night in the park had changed my life, and tonight was yet another life changing moment in my career. I'd launched something beautiful and brilliant, and something entirely my own.
I sat down on my bench, and watched as the world ebbed and flowed around me. No one payed any attention to the girl in the red dress, lost in her own moment. They just moved, and loved, and lived as I watched.
I was so lost in my own head, that I didn't notice the man until he was standing right next to me, the pants leg of his black tuxedo skimming against my bare left leg.
"Is this seat taken?" He asked and I shifted over immediately to accommodate for his large size.
"How did you know where to find me?" I smiled as I leaned into him, breathing in deep his smell. Like citrus, and the ocean, and my entire life. It was the same way he'd smelled since he was sixteen, back when I used to fantasize about what it would feel like to be held by him.
"I knew you'd need a minute or two after that fiasco. And this was the place you took me, so I figured it must've been special to you."
"I wouldn't have brought you if it wasn't."
"I know." He smiled and leaned in to kiss my hairline. His lips sent a zap of energy through me, making my heart race and my flesh goosebump.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
"Are you kidding me?! It was incredible. I loved every minute of it!"
"You did?"
"Of course!" He feigned shock over my insecurity. "Everything you do is incredible, Avery." His large fingers brushed through my hair as he leaned in and took a bite of my croissant. "I just can't wait to make you my wife."
"Only two more months now."
"Two months too long."
I grinned at him, thinking how lucky we both were to be here in this moment. In love. Together.
"We should probably get back. It's only a matter of time until someone notices I'm gone." I stood and extended my hand, which he accepted, but instead of standing he pulled me back down onto him.
"They can miss you for five more minutes..." His full lips were on mine in a second, and we were kissing, his tongue deep in my mouth, and my hands tangled in his hair.
*************
Two months later -
"You ready, sweetheart?" My father, Asher Adams, squeezed my hand a little as we waited by the glass double doors. All three hundred and fifty guests were already seated, anxiously awaiting my grand entrance.
It was the 'Event of the Season' as Page Six had dubbed it, accompanied by media helicopters over head, and security ramped up to the tee. But I didn't care about any of that. I only cared about the man standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me to make my way over to him.
"If you're having cold feet, we can run now." I elbowed my dad in his ribs a little as I looped my arm through his.
"No cold feet here." The music from the wedding processional wafted through the glass and I turned to face him, watching his eyes water in admiration. "I've known I wanted to marry him for as long as I can remember."
"Even so, he's not good enough for you."
"Dad - " I protested, but he shook his head.
"He's not good enough for you." He repeated. "No man will ever be." His large tattoo'd hand found mine through the loop in his elbow. "But he's a good man. He loves you and he'll take care of you forever. He promised me as much when he asked for your hand, and he knows I'll kill him if he breaks that promise...or breaks your heart." He grinned wolfishly, and I knew he was only half-joking.
"Good to know." I giggled. "Now are you ready to get me married?"
"Never. But let's do it anyway." He nodded once to the wedding planner, who in turn signaled to one of the ushers, and he pulled the doors ajar. We were immediately welcomed by the early evening sunshine, and the gasp of the guests.
"So beautiful."
"Absolutely stunning."
"Did you hear that it took her a year to design the dress?"
"Well it was fucking worth it..."
I could hear the collective whispers surrounding me like a second veil, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the end of the aisle, and the man waiting for me there. His deep blue eyes were pooled with moisture, and his smile looked like he'd won the lottery...twice over.
The journey toward him seemed to take an eternity, and also like it was over in the blink of an eye.
"Who gives this woman?" Our officiant, Uncle Theo asked just like we'd rehearsed, but I didn't realize it would feel this so real this time around. The way my father pulled me into his embrace one last time, before he joined my hand with my beloved.
"Her mother and I do." My father choked and half the guests sniffled. He could still command a room.
"Thank you." I heard my future husband whisper, and my dad patted him once on the back before leaving us alone together at the alter.
The rest of the ceremony went so quickly, the vows, the offering of rings, the biblical passages and message of always loving above all else. My eyes wandered past the officiant to my bridesmaids who were all crying. Marissa, Chantel, Fi, Rox, Collins.
I smiled at each of them before glancing to the right side at the groomsmen, one of whom looked pretty damn good in her tuxedo.
You look beautiful. Leisha mouthed with a subtle thumbs up.
I winked in return, before my attention was brought back to the ceremony again. The rings had been exchanged, the wisdom had been bestowed. Now all that was left was the pronouncement. And god was I ready for that. I'd only been waiting my entire life to be his, for him to be mine. Belonging to ourselves and to each other.
"By the power vested in me by the great state of California, I'd like to pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride!" Theo beamed down at us, and I spun on my heel to look at my husband.
His deep blue eyes were swimming with tears, and his bright white smile was proud, flashing the dimple on his right cheek. He looked ethereal - his tan skin physically glowing.
"I love you." I whispered as my fingers found their way onto the back of his neck, tangling into his dark glossy locks.
"I love you too. Always." His deep voice was thick with emotion.
Before either of us could say anything else, we both leaned in, our mouths meeting in our first kiss as a married couple. And boy what a kiss it was. Our lips moved in unison, giving and taking, loving and lusting, and he dipped me backwards.
The crowd came to their feet as he righted me, whistling and clapping, but he never took his eyes off of me. Not once.
"It's my pleasure to introduce..." Theo shouted over the commotion. "Mister and Misses Elijah West!"
We walked hand in hand down the mile long aisle, past all of our guests, as one combined unbreakable force.
After all the years of will they, won't they?!After Denise and Ethan, and love and loss, and tears and heartbreak, we were finally in this place. A place of love, and respect, and understanding, and trust. A place that wasn't easy to get to, but now that we'd arrived, there wasn't any other place I'd rather be.
All of our friends took turns hugging and congratulating us around the massive reception space, until our wedding planner politely shoved them to the side.
"It's time for your first dance." She hissed, practically shoving us forward toward the polished wood 'dance floor'. The floor consisted of a slab of wood nestled in the middle of the white linen tables, and under the glow of several strands of string lights. It was strange that something so understated could cost so much.
Ed Sheeren's Perfect began to play via our live band, and Eli pulled me into his strong arms. The melody surrounded us as we swayed, and suddenly everything else vanished. All the people and pressure of the day disappeared, until it was just Eli and I, holding each other in the dim evening glow.
"So, Mrs. West, what comes next?"
I grinned into his smirking eyes, pulling his face down toward mine until I could feel his hot minty breath against my lips.
"Whatever the fuck we want, Mr. West." I replied, pressing my lips to his.
**The End**