“No,” I said right away, “I’m not. I’ve just been dealing with all of that stuff. Needed some me time.”
Jane shot me a mischievous look. “With Penn Kensington I hear. Oh look, we’re both with Kensington men!”
“I suppose we are,” I said faintly.
It was so…strange to think that Penn and I were together again. And we were. We spent all our time together. But there was so much left unsaid between us that I wasn’t sure if we were entirely on the same page. The transition to us again had been almost too easy. Being with him had always been effortless. But it felt unfinished in a way. And I didn’t know how to fix that. If I even could. Or if time was the only healer.
“All right. Tell me everything that you’ve done since getting back into the city.”
I followed Jane through the department store. “Well, I moved into a new apartment, the thing with Penn, and I’ve been talking to Elizabeth Cunningham.”
“I saw that stunning dress you wore to my event. Is she dressing you now?”
I nodded. “Yes. For some occasions. But she said she’d hook me up for Fashion Week.”
Jane squealed, turning her wide eyes to mine. “You’re coming to Fashion Week?”
“Yes, though I’m not entirely clear on what I’m going to do while I’m there.”
“It’s only the best week in the entire world for fashion enthusiasts. Fashion converges on Manhattan, and the most brilliant designers in the world showcase the best they have to offer.” Jane’s ambiguous accent lifted with her excitement. “Everyone who matters will be seated in the front row of the most exclusive shows. We’re there as much to be photographed watching as the models are to wear the clothing. Both look good for the designer. And then there’s the gala! Which is to die for.”
“That sounds like…something I can handle,” I admitted. It was nice, getting the rundown from Jane.
I didn’t have to pretend with her. She had liked me for who I was from the beginning. And that was refreshing.
“You’ll totally handle it. And I’ll be there with you the whole time. Elizabeth has me on the seating chart for her event.”
“Oh good,” I said as we reached the personal shopper, Sandra, that Jane was familiar with.
“Hello, ladies. How can I help you?” Sandra asked.
Jane looked like she was about to answer for me, but I jumped in. I steeled myself for this encounter. Readied myself to act like the other Upper East Siders and not flinch from the cost of a damn thing.
“My old wardrobe is so last season,” I told Sandra with a bored smile. “I need all the latest and a special cocktail dress for tonight.”
“Of course,” Sandra said, not missing a beat. “Right this way. Let’s get you started. How many pieces are you looking to fill out this season?”
Jane raised an eyebrow at me in question.
“All of them,” I replied. “Let’s start fresh.”
Sandra’s eyes glittered. “Well then, I’m so pleased with what we just had come in. With your coloring and that hair, I know exactly where to start.”
Hours and hours later, I had a new wardrobe. Between Sandra and Jane, I had been in impeccable hands. They knew exactly what to pair with what, when I would wear each piece, and which styles were most flattering. I hadn’t even looked at the sum at the bottom before I signed my name with a flourish. The clothes would be delivered that afternoon. I hadn’t even known that was an option.
Jane’s eyes glittered with mischief by the time we were done. “I cannot believe he gave you his credit card.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. Even though it was.
“Are you kidding? Court hasn’t even given me his. We’ve been dating for, like, two years.”
“Yeah, but you have your own money,” I said with a shrug.
“True. True,” Jane said.
It was weird to even be talking about this with her. If Penn was to be believed, money wasn’t discussed between Upper East Siders. Maybe Jane was different with me because she knew where I’d come from. Or maybe it was her weird European roots.
“Come on,” Jane said, leading me down Fifth Avenue. “While we were shopping, I called for an afternoon at the spa. If you have a sexy date with Penn, then makeovers are a hundred percent in order.” She ran her fingers through the ends of my silvery-white hair. “Maybe we could dye your hair.”
I pulled my hair back from her hand. “My hair?”
“Yeah. To go with your new wardrobe and boyfriend. It would all fit. A little bit more…respectable, you know?”
“The silver is kind of my signature.”
“Yeah, but it does stand out,” Jane reasoned. “I love it. Don’t get me wrong. But it went with your old clothes and old vibe. This new Natalie could use an update, and this silver takes any color.”
My brain screeched to a halt. The clothes, the boyfriend, the apartment. It was all too new. Too different. So, so not me. And I knew that it was a sacrifice that I needed to make to achieve what I wanted. That the ends justified the means. Still, I couldn’t let go of my hair.
It was me. It was more than just a color.
Maybe people saw it and thought Hollywood model, but I couldn’t give it up. It felt like the last thing that I refused to leave behind. I loved it way too much.
I shook my head. “I can’t part with it.”
Jane shrugged. “Just a suggestion. Could you imagine Penn’s face if you showed up at his doorstep tonight as a blonde?”
Yes. He’d probably lose his mind. He loved my hair as much as I did. It was a concession I wasn’t willing to give to this cause.
“He loves my hair.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll back off. But we are doing intense eyeliner,” Jane said with a laugh.
She went off on a tangent about some French makeup artist she knew who had insisted that winged eyeliner was a staple to any outfit. Jane could talk about people she’d met all day if I let her.
I pulled out my phone to check my messages while she chatted away. I had one from Penn that said he was regretting going into the office, which I responded to with devil horns. And then an email from my agent, asking if I could chat real quick.
I furrowed my brow and made an excuse to Jane before dialing Caroline’s number. I hadn’t heard from her since she told me my career was effectively over.
“Hello?” Caroline said into the phone.
“Caroline, it’s Natalie. You asked if I had a moment to talk.”
“Yes, Natalie. How are you?”
“I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.”
“That’s wonderful. I actually called with some excellent news.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise.
Since when did my literary agent have good news to offer me? I’d thought my time had passed. That they wouldn’t touch my Olivia Davies books, and now that everyone knew Olivia and Natalie were one in the same, they wouldn’t take my literary novels either. I’d burned both bridges. Also because of fucking Lewis.
“Yes. I heard from Gillian. I guess there was a mix-up.” Caroline was silent a second as if she still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been in this business thirty years, and this has never happened to me, but Warren wants to purchase It’s a Matter of Opinion. They’re offering the same advance as Bet On It.”