Page 110 of Ruled By Rivalry

Henry sighed, like he should’ve expected it. “Maeve,” he said scoldingly, like a dad reminding his daughter to say Thank you after getting a present.

“I am sorry!” I explained quickly. “But also, I’m not?” Voice thinner, unsure again. Disapproving murmurs from around me. “I don’t know. It’s not like the playing field was remotely even. I didn’t feel like I had a choice but to play dirty when the competition had his name on the building. I did what I thought I had to do. I don’t think it’s wrong to fight for what I want.”

Camila had said as much, on day one. But she’d also promised that he’d fight back, and in hindsight, he’d done nothing but support me and my ideas. Helped me thrive and enjoy the process.

“It’s not.” Paula patted my head condescendingly. I think I deserved it. “But there’s nothing wrong with apologizing for hurting his feelings and saying that in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have done it.”

“But—”

“That’s how you feel, right? That you shouldn’t have done it?”

I’d love to say I was still the reckless, selfish girl chasing her dreams, not caring about who’d have to suffer for my success. I’d love to make Mom proud, continue to prioritize myself with no regard to the people—the men—I’d leave behind. She’d say, They never care about anyone but themselves either.

But that was only part of her truth. She still allowed herself to be loved and hurt—again and again. She had cried in her mother’s lap the way I had cried in my best friend’s. Knowing I had betrayed Elliot’s trust sucked. He might never speak to me again, and he had very good reason not to.

I missed him, but I still stayed with Henry and Paula for the week. Commuting to work longer, trying to puzzle together outfits with Paula’s very questionable wardrobe contents, and keeping my work calendar clear of his name.

I did everything I could to avoid seeing that look in Elliot’s eyes again. Disappointment, hurt, disbelief.

Chapter 43

I was flying. Or falling. Almost throwing up from pride, joy, and a million other emotions as I watched Elliot close Daphne’s dress. The moment was so fundamental that I knew I would never forget it.

It was engraved. The way she squealed, the way Camila and Oliver stood in the corner, watching, with no complaints. The way Elliot looked at me across his shoulder, despite everything that had happened, and offered a slight congratulatory nod.

Tentatively smiling back, I tried not to remember that I hadn’t only broken his trust but also ignored him for a whole week afterward. We hadn’t so much as spoken a word since then, and we’d been in the same room for at least half an hour for the fitting.

I should have found the courage to talk to him, but every time I was about to (lie, I don’t think anything could’ve gotten me over there), he was speaking to Ryan, Daphne, their assistant, or publicist, or tying his shoe, or very busy on his phone. And whenever he did look my way, I promptly looked anywhere else.

Coward. I was being such a chickenshit, it was embarrassing.

After leaving Daphne and Ryan in the very capable hands of their entire team, plus our team, plus Elliot, I went home for the first time in a week. It felt weird, having to rattle the lock to get inside, when for the past few days, all I had to do was gently let Paula’s key slide into the door.

Inside, it smelled like fresh linen and old coffee and Elliot’s cologne, wafting from the jackets hanging in the hallway. It felt like home in the worst way, like I missed him more than I’d care to admit.

I’d fucked up majorly, and I had no idea how to ask for forgiveness because I’d never really fucked up this badly.

My friendships had always been easy. I’d been lucky, somehow formed this little perfect bubble around my platonic relationships where my friends never did anything wrong and I never did, either. Beyond the arguments over what to have for dinner, we pretty much always got along. And I got so used to the ease of that, I forgot that doing wrong and apologizing is part of life. I just didn’t know how to do it anymore.

If Elliot wouldn’t agree to talk to me—which was well within his rights—I’d simply combust. I wouldn’t be able to take it, and so I’d avoided the possibility by avoiding him.

He hadn’t searched me out for a conversation either, though. So maybe that was answer enough. That’s what I thought, at least, until I closed my door, and on the back of it, there was another dress.

Not as subtle as the last one, but not too much either. Just right. I knew what it was for without having to read the note attached to the hanger.

I know. —E

Meanwhile, I didn’t know anything. What he meant with his note; what it meant for us. I didn’t even have a good guess. I couldn’t figure out why he’d get me a dress when I didn’t have the balls to say a quick, simple sorry.

I let my fingers glide across fabric the same shade as that Bahamian sand we’d considered. I recognized the design immediately because it was straight out of my sketchbook. Tight around the top, fanning out from the hip. Stitched, very delicately, with small bows barely visible from more than a few feet away. There was no tag inside the dress.

My hair ended up in an updo, front pieces framing my face, tickling my nose as I walked, very quickly, up the stairs of the back entrance. I didn’t have time for a more elaborate hairstyle.

The crowd had grown denser around the carpet, waiting for their favorite stars to appear at any moment. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t late. I had worked all night, through the day, and then taken an hour to get ready. I checked with Camila, who didn’t want her intern looking a mess at the Ashwood Annual Gala either. My work for the day was . . . done. I think.

Still, it felt weird, arriving when everyone was already walking the carpet, like I was missing the most important part of the evening.

I made it just in time for Daphne. Thank you, New York City traffic, without which she probably would’ve been long inside that building. I squeezed past C-list celebrities, interviewers, cameramen, and some employees I faintly recognized, until there was nothing but the emerald-green carpet in front of me. And Daphne, walking across it.