“I want to write for a fashion magazine,” I admit. “Not—not like the bloggers online, but a real one! The kind of journalist that goes to the big-name fashion shows in Paris and New York, whose articles get printed in Vogue. I’ve always loved that sort of thing, and I just… I think that if I could do anything, that would be it.”
Even though I’m braced for the laughter to come anyway, it doesn’t. Grant looks me over. “I can see that.”
“You can?” I ask, surprised.
Grant nods. “Sure. I won’t lie. I don’t know a damn thing about that industry.” He reaches up and tugs at the bright red tie that he’s wearing. “This was a gift from Brooke. I just put in an order to my secretary, and she puts in the right sizes for my suits, you know? The big names, I know those. But I couldn’t actually tell you anything about them.”
I listen with rapt attention, the window to the sky at my back. Even in first class, the seats are on the small side, but I manage to pull one leg up onto it, tucking it up between my body and the dividing armrest. It’s a little cramped, but I like being able to look at the person I’m speaking with.
Grant continues, “But I’ve always thought that you pulled off everything you wear. You seem to have an eye for it, is what I’m trying to say. Why didn’t you ever pursue it?”
“Between the fact that I would need to spend so much time traveling and that it doesn’t really give anything to the family name…” I shrug. “It’s not the kind of thing that my family ever encouraged. Well, except for Heather.”
“And what did Heather think?” Grant asks.
“She thought it sounded like exactly my kind of job,” I say with a huff of laughter. Heather’s always known I love fashion, with my constant influx of magazines and my vigilant reading of articles online—the credible ones. The day I told her that I wished I could make a career of it, we spent so much time looking through my many fashion catalogs, with Heather talking about this designer and that one, asking me questions. I know that she was just humoring me—my sister has never been interested in fashion—but I appreciated it more than she will ever know.
As for her dreams and desires… Heather doesn’t want much, not the way I do. Or maybe she has never felt like she could dream about wanting something. By the time she started high school, our father was thoroughly embroiled in the world of politics, which meant that she spent her last two school years at a private academy, and didn’t get a chance to go off dreaming about this job or the next.
Maybe Grant is right. Maybe now that the focus is shifting onto me because of our relationship, Heather will finally get the freedom to explore the world around her the way she deserves. I want her to have the space to figure out if she really wants to be in politics like our dad, or if that’s just a creation of our stifling home environment.
Grant doesn’t really say much about the subject after that. It’s like him needing to find someone to be with in order to get the CEO position. Some things just need to be sacrificed for the family. And some things just can’t happen, unless they happen in a specific way.
I turn back to the window, and the sky is just as beautiful now as it had been before. Grant rests one hand against the top of my thigh. I can feel the warmth even through the fabric of my dark-wash, skinny jeans. The floral print shirt that I’m wearing is pretty, but it’s also comfortable to be sitting on a plane in.
Now that I’ve started talking about it, fashion is on my mind. Fashion, and the way that my life has been shaped; the way that my sister’s life has been shaped. This leg of the trip is the longest, almost seven hours, there will be plenty more time for talking later on.
But for now, I think that it’s fine to just look out the window and muse over the fact that so far my life hasn’t turned out like I wanted… But I have this feeling in my belly—I think this thing with Grant is going to change that.
It’s going to change it for the better.
Chapter seven
Grant
Theflightgoessmoothly,and so does collecting our luggage when we land. Outside the airport, there’s a car waiting for us, arranged and paid for by my father. I know that he’s trying to show off for Ashley, which amuses me. Don is a flashy kind of person— he likes to live in luxury. As a boy who started with nothing to a man who built a multi-billion-dollar business, you could say he’s earned it.
Shockingly, I don’t have any business calls to make on the drive, so I spend the time filling Ashley in on what she can expect. It’s a good thing there’s a screen separating us from the driver.
“I know that you’ve met Charlie, and I’ve told you a bit about my dad.”
Ashley nods. “And I’m fully prepared to play up the doting girlfriend, don’t worry.”
I flash her a smile, one hand moving to press against the curve of her knee. “Right. But you haven’t met my mom, have you?”
Ashley thinks on it for a moment and then shakes her head. “Unless articles online count.”
“Yeah? You’ve read about her?”
“I mean, Cheryl’s a pretty big deal in the journalism world,” says Ashley. “I know she only covers things happening in big business, the stocks, that sort of thing but she’s still a pretty big deal.”
I almost can’t believe it, but—I guess when you want to have a career as a journalist, you try to stay on top of the big names out there, even if they happen to be from other fields of interest. Either way, it’s nice to hear that I won’t have to give the whole back story on what my mother does.
“Well, she’s going to be here, too. Don doesn’t like traveling too far without her, especially not on these longer trips. And since she can do all of her work from pretty much wherever—”
“It works out well,” says Ashley, with a nod. She gives an almost dreamy sigh, turning to look out the window. It’s late, and the whole of London stretches out around us—though mostly, we’re just looking at the traffic right now. I’ve been out here before, and I always forget how much time you end up staying in the car, just because you’re backed up behind twenty other cars.
“Exactly.” A pause. “Are you tired?”