Ciao (15 page)

Saturday is a busy day with back-to-back
shows. As a result I never really get a private moment with Paige. And by the end of the day, I think maybe it’s for the best. She seems so happy and oblivious that I think Dylan has either completely covered up what I saw yesterday or else has mentioned it in a dismissive way, like it was nothing. So if I mention it, she’ll probably laugh and say I’m overreacting because I’m so moralistic and old-fashioned. Whatever the case, I decide to just bide my time.

“You and Gabin have to come to the after-party with Dylan and me tonight,” Paige tells me as we’re heading to our suite.

I already told her about spending time with Gabin last night. It was my only way to excuse having missed Dylan’s after-party last night, although I’m sure he was relieved at my absence.

“It’s a big party,” she tells me. “Everyone will be there.”

I can’t even recall which Italian designer is hosting this particular event, but I know I don’t want to be there. “I’m tired,” I tell her. “I think I’d just like to spend the evening in.”

“No way,” she insists. “You played the hermit last night.”

“I was out on the town with Gabin last night,” I remind her. “Hardly a hermit. In fact, we had a wonderful time.”

“You know what I mean, Erin.” Paige is getting that stubborn look now, like she’s about to pull a princess fit. “We are here for our show. Part of that includes making appearances. I need my sister by my side.”

“You have Dylan by your side,” I say in a flat voice.

She narrows her eyes slightly. “And that’s a problem?”

I shrug then turn away.

“Mom said you were kind of down on him yesterday, Erin.”

I feel slightly betrayed by this. What did Mom tell her? And why? Still, I’m not sure I want to go there right now.

“Mom said you thought his show wasn’t very good.”

I turn to face Paige, studying her closely. “What did
you
think of his show?”

She looks trapped—like no matter what she says, it will be wrong.

“Come on,” I gently press her. “You’re the fashion expert. If Dylan weren’t your fiancée, what would you have said about his spring line? I’d like to know.”

“Okay. I don’t think those were his best designs.”

I nod.

“I don’t get why you’d hold that against him, Erin. That seems pretty mean and judgmental …
even for you.”
I blink. “Even for me?”

“Well, you know how you are. You’ve admitted it before. You can be pretty harsh and judgmental sometimes.”

“So can you,” I point out. “If a woman’s purse is all wrong with her outfit, I’ve heard you—”

“I’m not talking about fashion now,” she says loudly. “I’m talking about the way you judge someone’s character.”

“What if a person has
no
character?” I ask. “Am I supposed to simply pretend that he does have character?”

She looks stumped.

“Remember the old fairy tale ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

She shrugs, but I can tell by the look in her eyes she does remember it.

“Everyone was supposed to pretend the emperor looked fantastic,” I say quickly, “but the foolish dork had been duped by a devious designer and he was actually parading around in his underwear. Remember?”

“And your point would be?”

“That’s like Dylan.”

“What?”
she sputters.

“In fact, Dylan is like that in two ways.”

“Explain yourself.” Paige’s voice is tight and high and I can tell she is about to explode. Even so, I continue.

“First of all there’s Dylan’s spring line, which is, in my opinion, ho-hum, unremarkable, and just plain boring. And yet you acted like it’s inspired and amazing. I know you know better, Paige. You know it’s not good, and yet you’re acting like it is.”

“It’s because I believe in him,” she insists. “He’s an excellent designer. He got an early start and blew away some of his contemporaries. He was said to have the brightest future in the American industry and—”

“Maybe that was true then, but not so true now — “ “Who died and made you a fashion expert?” She glares at me.

“I’m just being honest, Paige. You’re acting just like one of the emperor’s subjects, pretending Dylan still has talent. And I know if it was anyone else’s show, you would have cheerfully torn them to shreds.”

“That’s not—”

“Let me finish. Second of all there’s Dylan himself— more specifically, his character, which in my opinion is seriously lacking. He plumps up his ego however he can. For all we know that could explain the decline of his creativity—”

“He’s just having a little slump.”

“And you’re covering for him! That’s my whole point, Paige, you’re acting like one of the emperor’s lame subjects. You’re bowing down to Dylan and pretending like—”

“I am
not
bowing down to him!”

Suddenly I know I’ve gone too far. I’m not even sure how it happened. I’ve totally thrown Gabin’s advice to the wayside. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“How can you say things like that, Erin?” She’s right in my face and looks close to tears. “I’m your sister and you treat me like—”

“I’m saying it because I love you, Paige — “ “It’s a strange way to show love, Erin!” “It’s because I don’t want to see you get hurt.” “I’m not going to get hurt!”

“Yes.” I nod firmly. “You are going to get hurt. Dylan is not who you think he is. He is definitely going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Even if I did …” I pause, steadying myself, “would you listen?”

“You’re just jealous,” she says as she turns away, heading to the bathroom. “Just like all the other females in my life.
Everyone hates me because I’m successful and pretty and — “ She slams the door so loudly that I can’t hear the last word. And now water is running.

I sit down, wondering if I could’ve messed this up any more, even if I’d tried. Once again, I pray. I pray that God will somehow salvage my mess and help me communicate with Paige in a way she can understand. Her shower finally ends and I can hear the fan running, but she spends such a long time in there that I feel worried.

By the time she emerges, looking fresh and perfect, I’m pacing. “Look,” I say to her, “I’m really sorry for the way that went.”

She smiles, but it’s not genuine. “That’s okay. I’m fine now.”

“Good.” I sit down and try to think.

“Should I assume that you and Gabin won’t be going to the after-party with Dylan and me tonight? I mean, I wouldn’t want to subject you to being seen with a second-rate designer who has no character.” Her voice cuts like acid.

“Oh, Paige.” I stand and look at her. “Can I just explain something to you? I mean calmly and without fireworks?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs as she tightens the belt of her bathrobe. “Can you?”

“I’d like to try.”

“Fine.” She sits on the sofa and I sit in the chair across from her. “Go for it.”

I begin by telling her what Taylor told me outside the bathroom at the Nina Ricci after-party.

Paige looks stunned. “Seriously? Taylor said that?”

I nod. “She didn’t say it proudly, and I can tell she still cares about Dylan. She said he helped launch her career.”

“That’s true enough.” She frowns. “I thought Taylor was pretty ungrateful for leaving him in the lurch like that.”

“Taylor is a Christian,” I tell her. “And she didn’t approve of Dylan acting like that toward her when he was engaged to you.”

Paige folds her arms. “Well, to be fair, a lot of flirting goes on in the fashion world, Erin. People have to expect it.”

“It sounded like more than flirting,” I reply. “Dylan was coming on strong enough that Taylor was uncomfortable working for him.”

“And a big opportunity just happened to come her way about the same time,” Paige says dismissively. “Pretty handy if you ask me.”

“I don’t get that.”

“Taylor wouldn’t want to look selfish—dumping a designer who’d been good to her for one with a bigger name.”

“But you know this industry,” I point out. “Everyone is moving up, if they can.”

“Maybe.” She still looks unconvinced.

“I wasn’t even going to tell you about that,” I confess. “In fact, Gabin didn’t think I should say—”

“Gabin knows about this?”

“Gabin’s my friend,” I say calmly. “He’s been a good listener. A good adviser. And he admitted that he knew Dylan was like that.”

“Like what?”

“Gabin said that Dylan spoke openly in France, admitting he loved beautiful women and—”

“Well, of course he loves beautiful women, Erin. He’s a designer. Certainly you didn’t think he’d love ugly women?” Her face registers more than a little impatience.

“That’s not what Gabin meant.”

“I would think you and Gabin could find more interesting things to talk about than Dylan and me.”

“You’re getting mad again,” I point out. “I thought we were going to discuss this calmly.”

“Whatever.” She stands, going into the kitchen and getting a bottle of water.

“I have one more thing to tell you,” I say slowly. “But I’m not going to tell you if you’re already upset.”

“Of course I’m upset, Erin. You’re making some serious accusations about the man I love. Why wouldn’t I be upset?”

“Okay.” I stand, heading to the bathroom. “Let’s just leave it at that then, because I’m sure you won’t hear the rest of it anyway.” And before she can respond I go into the bathroom, close the door, lean against it, and pray for help.

I stay in there about ten minutes and it’s so quiet in the suite that I think Paige might’ve gotten dressed and left. But when I go back out, she’s still in her bathrobe, sitting on the sofa again, sipping her water. “So …?”

“You want to hear the rest?” I ask cautiously.

“Might as well get it over with,” she says easily. “Then we can just forget about it and move on.”

“Okay.” I sit down again, taking in a deep breath. I tell her exactly what happened after Dylan’s show yesterday, in detail, almost as if I’m in a court of law. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything. She just sits there with a blank expression. I honestly don’t have a clue how she feels. “Anyway …” I hold up my hands. “I just thought you should know. I would want to know. I mean, if it were me.”

“For your information, Dylan already told me about it.”

“Oh.” I nod stiffly. “Well, that’s what Gabin said he would do.”

“You told Gabin about this too? What else does Gabin know?”

“Sorry. I just needed to talk to someone.”

“Anyway, for your information, Dylan explained the whole thing. He said that Cybil—that’s the model he was comforting — was extremely upset because she had just found out her sister had died.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Really?”

She nods with a somber expression. “She was completely shattered by the news. And Dylan was simply comforting her. He said he saw you when you saw them and that he tried to say something to you, but that it looked like you’d assumed the very worst and ran off before he could explain what was going on.”

“He said that, did he?” I’m trying to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“He even said he could understand your reaction, Erin.”

“Really?” I can’t believe she’s buying this.

“Yes.” She makes a satisfied smile. “He was very gracious in defending you. He said that after all that Eliza nonsense, it was understandable that you would jump to a wrong conclusion. He knows you’re protective of me. And he doesn’t hold it against you. In fact, he suggested I discuss it with you.”

“So this woman, did you meet her? Was Cybil at the after-party last night?”

“Of course not. She flew home to be with her family.” Her brows arch as if to say, I told you so. “I would think you—
a Christian
—wouldn’t be so quick to judge and condemn a person so unfairly.”

“I see …” Now I’m second-guessing myself. Is it possible I perceived the situation wrong?

“I know you probably don’t believe what I just told you,” she says in a weary tone. “But, hopefully, you’ll come to your senses.”

I nod. “Yes … hopefully.”

“I suppose I can’t talk you into going to the Baggatio after-party with us now?”

“I don’t think so.” I let out a long sigh. “I really am tired.”

Paige looks at the clock. “Well, Dylan is taking me to dinner first. If you change your mind, just give me a call. We can always meet up later.” She smiles in a sad way. “And, really, no hard feelings. Dylan is right—it’s understandable that you would feel defensive of me, Erin. I mean, seriously, if you caught Dylan doing something—well, like you thought— I would want you to tell me. I would want you to come running.”

“Really?” I’m surprised by this. “You wouldn’t just think that ignorance is bliss?”

Paige looks like I’ve lost my mind. “Are you kidding? What girl wants to be involved with a cheater?”

“Not me,” I tell her.

“And most definitely not me.” She shakes her head. “Now I need to get dressed.”

I experience a mixture of feelings after Paige leaves. On the one hand, I’m glad we ended on a relatively peaceful note. On the other hand, I’m confused. Is it possible that I read this whole thing wrong? And what about what Taylor said? And Gabin? Finally, I decide there’s nothing else I can do —well, except to pray for Paige and Dylan. After that, I need to just let it be.

It’s a little past seven when my phone rings.
Once again it’s Gabin, and when I tell him I’m not interested in going out tonight, he is disappointed.

“Are you going to stay in and be sad?”

“Who says I’m sad?” I ask.

“I can hear it in your voice, c
heri.”

“Oh.” I tell him about my conversation with Paige and how it turned out Gabin was right. “Or maybe I was wrong,” I admit. “Dylan actually seemed to have a pretty good explanation for what I saw.”

“And you believe him?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m not sure I have a choice.” “Perhaps not.”

“At least Paige and I are okay,” I tell him. “And yet you are sad.”

“Maybe so.” I realize my sadness is twofold now. Part of it’s related to Paige and Dylan. And part of it is Blake’s silence — and this strong sense that we are really over.

“Come out with me,” he urges. “I will help you forget sad.”

I have to chuckle at his English. “I’m not sure you could do that, Gabin.”

“Come on,
cheri,”
he pleads. “This is Milan. Perhaps not as beautiful as Paris. But no place for sadness.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“Splendid! I know just the place. Put on a pretty dress,
cheri.
We will dance tonight.”

I’m not sure how I feel about dancing, but it might be a good way to forget about Paige and Dylan. So I hunt through the closet and the freestanding clothes rack until I find what looks like a decent dancing dress. It’s a Nina Ricci lacey number in a soft periwinkle blue. Very feminine, with a skirt that can swirl. I find a pair of bronze-colored platform shoes and, although I’m not sure what Paige would say, I think they look okay. I may not be ready for the cover of
Couture,
but I’ll bet I’m more stylish than anyone in Dylan’s last show. Not that I want to obsess over that.

In the elevator is a dark-haired woman in a hot-pink cocktail dress. She’s very beautiful and obviously a model, but something about her is strikingly familiar too. And then, somewhere between the third and second floor, it hits me. I know who she is.

“Is your name Cybil?” I ask pleasantly.

“Yes.” She nods and smiles happily. Perhaps a bit too happily. “That is me—Cybil.” Her accent is thick, and I’m guessing she’s from an eastern bloc country.

“I’m Erin,” I say, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation. “I cohost an American TV show about fashion.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh! That is nice!”

“Yes. Did I see you in the Marceau show yesterday?”

“Yes!” She nods eagerly. “That is right.”

“You’re very good,” I tell her as the elevator doors open. “Very talented.” “Thank you!”

We step outside the elevator and I place my hand on her arm. “I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

Her dark eyes cloud with confusion. “My
sister?”

“Oh. Maybe I’m thinking of someone else.”

“I have
no
sister. Just three brothers.” She laughs and holds her hand above her. “Such big boys, they are. All more tall than me.”

I laugh to imagine brothers taller than her — she must be close to six feet. “I’ll bet they’re protective of you.”

“Protective?” She considers this word then nods eagerly.

“Yes!”

Suddenly I get an idea. “Hey, are you going to an after-party tonight?”

“Yes!” She smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Baggatio,
no?”

“Yes.” I smile back. “That’s the one I’m going to.”

“I
am
going.” She nods eagerly.

“Great,” I tell her. “I will look for you there.”

“Super!”

She walks across the lobby, joining a small group of other models, and I wave to Gabin. Hurrying over to him, I breathlessly explain my brief elevator conversation. Then I tell him about my sudden change of plans. “I’m sorry, but I have to go to that after-party now.”

“I understand. It is like
fate.”

“Or God,” I say.

He nods soberly. “I believe God controls fate.” “Hopefully God will help me do what I have to do.” I make a stiff smile. “Because I know it won’t be easy.”

“So … no dancing tonight?”

“I have to do this, Gabin.”

“Perhaps you need an escort?”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

He smiles. “If it makes you happy.”

“We don’t have to stay long,” I promise him as we head out to grab a taxi. “But I
have
to do this, Gabin. Paige told me if I ever caught Dylan cheating on her that I was supposed to run to her and tell her.”

“Then we will run.” He waves to a taxi down the street, and we literally run and hop into it. After about fifteen minutes, we pull into a circular driveway in front of a beautiful stone mansion. I’m not even sure my name’s on the guest list, but I’m hoping, between Gabin and me, that one of us can gain access. Otherwise, I’ll use Paige’s name. But Gabin steps up and, after a few words with the gatekeeper, has no problem getting us into the party.

“I don’t want to go directly to Paige,” I say as we make our way through the oversized foyer.

“You have a plan?” he asks with interest.

“First I want to make sure Paige is here. Then I’ll need to find Cybil again,” I say. “After that I want to introduce Cybil to Paige.”

He makes a nervous smile. “I am at your disposal.”

I lead him around from room to room, checking out the guests and looking for my sister. Finally, I am fairly sure that Paige and Dylan must still be lingering over dinner. So I point to where a jazz ensemble is playing by the entrance to an enchanting courtyard that’s magically lit with strings of fairy lights garlanded around the trees. A few couples are already dancing.

“You said you wanted to dance tonight,” I remind Gabin. He takes my hand and leads me out. As we dance, I try to keep an eye on people moving in and around the rooms. It’s not long before I see Cybil and her pretty friends milling about, but I still haven’t spotted Paige and Dylan. I just hope they haven’t changed their minds.

After a few dances, we take a break and sample the food, which is mouthwatering, as usual. “I’m worried,” I tell Gabin. “It’s possible that Dylan and Paige aren’t coming.”

“It is possible.” He tips his head toward the foyer. “Except that is them, coming in now.”

“Really?” I feel my heartbeat quicken.

“Yes. They have stopped to talk with the host.”

“I need to find Cybil,” I say quickly. “Will you wait here and keep an eye on them from a distance? Please, don’t let them leave if you can help it.”

He nods. “I am your partner in espionage.”

I make my way through the room, which is growing increasingly crowded, searching through the hordes of beautiful tall women for Cybil and her friends. I know Cybil has on a hot-pink dress, which should be easy to spot. After a few minutes I locate her. Taking a calming breath, I casually approach the chattering group of women. They are speaking in another language, but to my relief, Cybil notices me and smiles.

“Oh, here you are,” she says cheerfully. “This is the woman,” she tells her friends. “The one with
American television show.”
She introduces me to her friends, who greet me in equally thick accents. I visit briefly with them then turn my attention back to Cybil.

“Were you at the Dylan Marceau after-party last night?” I ask her.

She shakes her head no, then giggles. “I was at
after
after-party,” she tells me in a confidential tone, and I think I get her meaning.

“In that case, there is someone you
must
meet tonight,” I declare.

Her eyes widen hopefully. “Yes?” “Do you have a few minutes?” She smiles.
“Oh, yes!”

I have mixed feelings as I lead Cybil through the throng, searching for Paige and desperately hoping I can pull this off without making a horrible mess. It’s not that I want anyone to get hurt … not any more than they’ve hurt themselves already. But I do want to enlighten my sister. Finally, I spot Paige talking to one of the Baggatio under-designers. To my relief, Dylan isn’t with her.

“There she is,” I tell Cybil, without pointing directly to Paige, just in case Cybil knows who she is. “An American fashion expert.” I move in quickly now, stepping right next to Paige. “Excuse me.” I tap her on the shoulder, interrupting her conversation in mid-sentence.

She turns to me with surprised eyes but then smiles. “I’m so glad you came tonight, Erin.”

“There’s someone you
must
meet,” I say with manufactured enthusiasm.

Her eyes brighten.
“Who?”

I nod to Cybil.
“This
is Cybil,” I say calmly.

Paige’s brows arch.
“Cybil?”

Cybil seems oblivious. “Yes. I am Cybil.”

“This is my sister,” I tell Cybil.

Cybil takes Paige’s hand. “I am most pleased to meet you.” Paige looks confused.

“Cybil is a very talented model,” I say quickly, glancing at Cybil, who is still smiling. “But Cybil’s not as lucky as I am. Cybil does not
have
a sister.” I turn to Cybil, who seems a bit confused. “Right?”

“Right …” She nods. “I have no sister.”

“But you have three brothers?”

“Yes!” She smiles. “Three brothers.”

“Cybil.” Paige speaks slowly. “Did you model for Dylan Marceau?”

Cybil’s pretty smile gets even bigger. “Oh, yes. Yes, I did.”

Dylan steps up with two glasses of champagne, handing one to Paige with a smile. I’m sure he hasn’t noticed Cybil yet and I’m not sure of my next move, but I’m determined not to let him slither out of this. “Dylan,” I say pleasantly, “I was just introducing Paige to Cybil.”

Dylan’s jaw stiffens as he barely tips his head toward me in a silent greeting. His eyes dart toward Cybil, then away.

“Cybil was just telling us how she has
no sisters.”
I shake my head sadly. “It’s a shame too, because Cybil’s sisters would probably be as beautiful as Cybil.” I smile at her.

“You are too kind,” she says to me.

“You have no idea,” I tell her.

“But you are right,” she continues. “I have no sister. Just me and my three big brothers.” She smiles at Dylan, her eyes twinkling as if she’s extremely glad to see him tonight.

I tap Cybil on the arm, redirecting her attention back to Paige. “Now that you’ve met my sister, did you know that she is engaged to marry Dylan Marceau?”

With a creased brow, Cybil looks from Dylan to Paige. She’s clearly confused — probably as blindsided as Paige,
which makes me sad. “No … I did not,” she says. All the sparkle is gone from her eyes.

“I didn’t think you did,” I tell her.

Suddenly Cybil looks at Paige with frightened eyes. It’s obvious that she knows that Paige knows. “I am— I am
sorry.”

“No …” Paige says slowly. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” She puts a hand on Cybil’s arm, looking up into her eyes.
“Do you want Dylan?”

Cybil looks like she’s about to pass out or make a run for it, but she just stands there.

“Because you can have him.”

“I — uh — I —” Cybil’s hand flies to her mouth.

Paige turns to Dylan. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

Not surprisingly, he is speechless.

Paige lifts her glass of champagne as if to make a toast, but instead she tosses the contents onto Dylan. Then she hands me the empty glass, twists the big diamond off her finger, and shoves it into Dylan’s hand.
“We are finished!”
Paige glances around to see that everyone within about a twenty-foot radius is staring at us. She turns back to Dylan. “And my sister and I are of the opinion that your design career is finished too.” She stands tall.
“Ciao!”

Paige nudges me to turn around then links her arm through mine, probably to steady herself as we walk away. I’m shocked to spot Eliza in the crowd of onlookers — her jaw is literally dropped. I toss her a look—like
see what kind of person Dylan really is.
Or maybe she knows. I don’t really care. I just want out of here.

To my relief, Gabin hurries straight to us, moving to Paige’s other side. He takes her free arm, and together we escort her
toward the foyer. I can feel how wobbly her steps are and by the time we’re outside the front door, where we find a bench in a shadowy spot alongside the driveway, Paige collapses.

While Gabin calls for a taxi, I hold my sister, letting her cry on my shoulder as I tell her, “It’ll be okay … it’ll be okay.” And I believe it will be okay — in time, anyway. But as I hear my sister sobbing, I’m not so sure about the short term.