Page 62 of Edge of Heaven

I’m whisked away with Stevie trailing after me, immediately stripping down to my underwear.

“Let’s get body makeup over here!” the stylist, Susanna, says. “Girlfriend, you have a wicked bruise on your back.”

“Do I?” I feign innocence. That bruise didn’t come from Callum’s spanking but from me stumbling into the bathroom afterward. I was in so much pain I just wanted to get into an ice-cold shower, and lost my balance as I was getting in. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”

There’s a weird look on Stevie’s face, but I smile and chat with everyone like it’s no big deal because I’m not going to bring the drama of my life into an exciting opportunity like this. And I sure as shit am not going to tell them about Callum.

“Oh, that color looks amazing on you,” Alexa says about an hour later when I walk out in an emerald-green, form-fitting dress that flares mid-calf. “And it fits you perfectly—let me adjust that strap on your shoulder.” She steps on a little stool and starts fussing with the strap, eventually calling for a needle and thread and actually detaching it and sewing it back on.

“What did I tell you?” Cheyenne quips, walking past us.

“You’re lucky my hands are full,” Alexa tells her without looking up.

“Yeah yeah.” Cheyenne is laughing, talking on the phone to someone as she waits for her turn with the stylist.

Everything is so casual here, it’s hard to believe Alexa is one of the top designers in the world. She isn’t a Versace or Gucci, but she’s become increasingly popular over the last decade and I’m still a little shocked that I’m here.

Cheyenne and Stevie are literal supermodels. There are a handful of other ladies here that are well-known as well, having appeared inSports Illustratedor the covers of magazines likeCosmopolitan.

And everyone is chill. No one seems to question my being here or that I’m not nearly as successful as they are, and Alexa spends a long time making sure the dresses I’m going to wear fit me perfectly.

She’s also paying me a lot more than Diane told me so that makes me happy.

“You doing okay?” Stevie asks me around three in the afternoon. We’ve been at this all day and while it’s a lot of work, it’s also fun.

“I’m great,” I tell her. “This has been incredible.”

“Alexa is wonderful. That’s why I mentioned your name when Joanna had to drop out at the last minute.”

“I appreciate it,” I say, turning to look at her. “Truly. I owe you one.”

She shakes her head. “Like I told you before—you owe me nothing. I recognize the pain in your eyes… and those bruises that don’t really tell a story, but for those of us who’ve read the book, we know.”

I swallow. “Please, I don’t want anyone to pity me or?—”

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “No one here will judge. Chey is my best friend in the world, and she’ll have your back if you need her to. Don’t let the lighthearted blonde persona that’s always messing around fool you. She is one of the strongest, most loyal people you’ll ever meet. When my ex tried to kill me, she literally threw herself at him, trying to help me. She was there even though I was too stubborn to ask for help.” She meets my eyes. “And I know damn well you’re not clumsy. So if you need help, ask for it.”

I look down at the diamond glittering on her left hand, opting to change the subject. “Are you…engaged now?”

She smiles. “Yes. Marty Nadeau plays for the L.A. Phantoms. We’re getting married in Paris in June.”

“Congratulations.”

“He was my light at the end of the tunnel.”

And Mick is mine.

Two more months.

* * *

The show is amazing.

The clothes, the lights, the music—it’s a magical cocoon of new friends and endless possibilities. At least, that’s how it feels until I go backstage at the end and see Callum standing there with a huge bouquet of flowers.

What the fuck is he doing here?

I manage to paste a smile on my face even though I feel sick to my stomach and hurry over to him.

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