Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

Saylor

I've never been happier to be in New York City than I am right now.

The last few days have been a whirlwind, with Canyon on the road and me trying to get as much done as possible before leaving for a week. I feel bad that I have to postpone next week's art classes, the last of the six, but I've promised everyone that I'll add an extra week onto the end to make it up to them.

Frankly, I can use the break.

I'll be working in New York, but I feel safer here.

Those flowers had been jarring, and once again, there were no fingerprints on the box and whoever sent them had used a fake name and address. I'd been aggravated and worried before, but that's morphed into genuine fear now. Rage is in the process of installing a panic button at the gallery and another in my bedroom at home, which makes me feel marginally better. We've also arranged for me to have round-the-clock security until we figure this out.

It's a huge expense, but I feel better knowing I'll have someone with me. Especially at the gallery. I have both customers and the kids on Thursday evenings to think about, so it's worth it to have some peace of mind.

Not in New York, though. I'll be with Canyon tonight when he's done playing, all day tomorrow, and then until he has to leave on Sunday morning. Once the guys are gone, a group of us girls are going to Stevie's house to help her pack and exorcise some demons. She's already contacted a realtor who's going to help her sell both the brownstone and the furniture, and the plan is to make L.A. her home going forward.

"I'm so glad I'm finally going to pack up my house," Stevie says to me as we head down to meet the guys after the game. "I want to sell it and move on with my life, you know?"

"And I'm glad we can be here with you."

"I might throw up when we walk through the front door, but at least I'm finally getting it over with."

"Don't think about that. We have an amazing day planned tomorrow, so let's focus on the good."

"Have you told Canyon about the roses yet?" she asks.

I hadn't and I make a face. "No. I hate giving him anything else to worry about. He's got so much going on with Ally, plus the team just clinched a playoff spot, he doesn't need anything else."

"I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how relationships work."

"I think it is," I counter. "I'm protecting him right now. Later, when things settle down, it'll be his turn to protect me."

She shakes her head. "This is different, though. Someone has threatened to hurt you. That's different than stress from work or dealing with a hormonal pre-teen."

I know she's right, but it's hard to count on anyone.

Especially a guy.

"I think there's a part of me that doesn't want to scare him off," I admit. "Like, he has all this shit already going on. The last thing he needs is for me to add to it. I don't want to be another stressor in his already stressful life."

"That's not fair," she says. "I made a lot of excuses with Damien like that too. Because I was afraid of losing him. Turns out, maybe if I'd done something to make him show his true colors sooner, instead of placating him all the time, none of what happened would have happened."

"I want him to get through the playoffs. That's all. Then I'll tell him everything."

"The playoffs could go until mid-June!" she says, her eyes wide. "That's two months from now."

"I'll figure it out, okay? Just please don't say anything."

"I won't. Not yet. But I'm serious, Saylor. If you can't share the bad along with the good, you're not in a healthy relationship."

Luckily, I spot Canyon and hurry in his direction.

"Hey, baby." He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me close, lightly pressing his lips to mine. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

Our eyes meet, and all the doubts suddenly melt away.

When he looks at me the way he is now, nothing else matters.

I can't explain it, but no one's ever looked at me the way he does.

With his soul in his eyes.

It makes my heart flutter against my ribcage.

Another reminder of why I was willing to give him a chance in the first place.

"You ready to get out of here?" he whispers.

"Very ready."

We link hands, say goodbye to our friends, and head out a back door that takes us to the street where I have a car waiting.

"This is great," he says, once we're inside.

He loosens his tie and leans back.

"You look tired," I say, stroking my hand down his chest. "We can get a good night's sleep and won't have to rush in the morning. I don't have to be anywhere until two."

"That sounds amazing. I'm looking forward to some alone time where we can just be together. I've missed my girl."

His girl .

Those words are music to my ears.

* * *

Backstage before the start of the show is chaos.

Makeup artists, hairdressers, stylists, Alexa herself, and of course, a plethora of models.

I'm in my element, happy to sit in a chair while someone fusses with my hair and someone else dabs gloss on my lips.

This is the part I'll miss.

Most of it is boring, but the excitement just before a show is palpable.

And Canyon is here.

He's never seen me work.

Not like this.

It's not Paris Fashion Week or anything, but it's Alexa Humboldt, and she doesn't half-ass anything. If she's putting on a show, she's making it a huge production. The press is here, and one of my marketing people "leaked" word that I was retiring, so now there's a buzz both about me and about the show. That's done by design, of course, because I don't have anything to hide and there's always strategy for things like this.

I'll probably get requests to do interviews, maybe even some more modeling work because, you know, it makes perfect sense to try to convince someone who's decided to retire not to retire.

I don't mind.

If someone wants to pay me a lot of money to delay retirement, I'll do it and be perfectly up front about the reason why. Anyone who says money doesn't talk obviously isn't listening.

"I'm nervous," Stevie whispers, fanning her face as we wait for the start. She's both starting and ending the show since this is her comeback, so there's probably a little more pressure on her than the rest of us.

There had been no rehearsal—Alexa trusted us to wing it—and that's what we're going to do.

Personally, I love the mermaid style turquoise dress she put me in. It's sophisticated but a little edgy, in a vibrant color that looks great on me. In my opinion, this dress epitomizes Alexa's designs. She's not the type of designer who's going to put on a show featuring a dress made out of toilet paper or any other gimmick. Her clothes are meant to be elegant but unique, made specifically for certain people or events.

She has quite a few rock star clients, both male and female, and I love the way she can mix a lace-up leather bodice with satin or taffeta or some other traditional fabric that brings a look together.

It's fun.

Maybe I can retire but only come out of retirement for Alexa.

I love her clothes, and her shows are exciting.

The lead singer of a platinum-selling rock band called Onyx Knight is here tonight, performing as we walk. Kingston Knight is gorgeous and enigmatic, with a rich, velvety voice that has sold millions of albums. He and Cheyenne had a thing once, but apparently had ended on good terms and now are chatting animatedly in the far corner as we wait for the signal that it's time to line up.

"Are we ready, ladies?" Alexa calls out, clapping her hands. She turns to Kingston. "And gentleman."

"Ready to rock, baby!" He gives her a thumb's up.

"All right. The announcer is going to introduce Kingston," Alexa says.

"And I'm going to introduce Alexa," he says with a grin.

"And then I introduce all of you. Let's line up. Magda has the order."

It's a little less organized than other fashion shows because it's Alexa and this is her thing—she rarely succumbs to the norm with anything—but it's also fun. The energy in the room is off the charts, and we can hear the audience start to clap and whistle when Kingston starts talking.

"Someone hold my hand," Stevie gasps, her face suddenly pale.

"I've got you." Bailey slides her hand into Stevie's.

They smile at each other, and I watch Stevie visibly relax.

"You got this," I say, rubbing Stevie's shoulder.

"I'll be right behind you," Chey tells Stevie.

"And I'll be behind you, Bailey," I add. "If you stumble or panic, just give me a signal."

"You guys are the best." Bailey smiles shakily.

Then we're walking, lights shining brightly, the music and Kingston's voice filling the room as he sings one of the band's biggest hits called "Break Your Promise." It's a fun, energetic song that matches the vibe of the show, and I'm able to relax as Stevie steps into the light—literally and figuratively.

A smile breaks out on her face as the audience starts to clap, and I see Harper and the guys from the team in the front row cheering for her.

Ivan stands up and whistles as Chey walks by and she blows him a kiss. To my surprise, when I get close to where Canyon is sitting, he gets up and lifts his arm, extending a rose in my direction.

His eyes shine with…appreciation? Love? Adoration?

I'm not quite sure, but I have a job to do, so I wink, grab the rose, and keep walking, doing a turn at the end of the runway and then heading toward the back.

I have two more dresses to wear, and then we'll all come out on stage to present Alexa with flowers and champagne, thanking her for twenty-five years of clothing designs we love.

The rest of the show is a blur.

Clothing change.

Makeup touch-up.

Back on the runway.

Another rose from Canyon.

Cat calls and cheering from the Phantoms.

Before I know it, it's over and Stevie's a blubbering mess backstage while Bailey is radiant.

"This is one of the best nights of my life professionally," she says as we start to change into our street clothes.

"It was fun," I agree.

"Are you sure you want to retire?" Chey asks me, pulling on a pair of tight black jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck.

"I'm ready," I say, "but I'll always model for Alexa. Any time, any place, even for free."

"Will work for dresses!" Stevie calls out, laughing.

"I love you guys," Alexa yells, holding up her glass of champagne. "Thank you for being here tonight."

"Thank you for doing this for me," Stevie says quietly, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know that I ever would have come back to New York if you hadn't found a way to lure me here."

"Like she said, she'll work for dresses!" Alexa teases.

Everyone laughs and I turn to find our friends in the adjoining reception area.

And Canyon.

Who is more than a friend.

The most gorgeous, kind, and caring man I know.

And he's mine.