Page 54 of State of Ruin

“Oh, shoot.” I cut the vacuum and call her right back. “Hey. Sorry.”

“Hey, girl.” She sounds breathless and less chipper than usual. “How soon can you get to NoLIta? It’s, like, really urgent.”

“Is it a casting call?” I ask, my hand going to my hair automatically. I haven’t washed it this morning, but it’s still sleek from the ballet blowout I gave myself last night.

“No, but it’s an emergency, babe.”

I glance at Sylvie, who raises her eyebrows in a question. I shrug. “I can be there by eleven?” I tell Olivia. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s all good. I just need to see you in person, stat. I’ll text you an address.”

“What was all that?” my sister asks after I hang up, resting her elbows on the table.

“No clue. She just said she needs to see me super urgently.” I hesitate. “Will you be okay?”

“Go, go.” She brushes me away impatiently. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need to go to the bathroom before I go?”

“I can get myself there. Just go, and text me and let me know what the hell is going on, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree unwillingly. She’s getting more mobility, more strength, every day. Getting out of bed is still a big challenge, but she can get herself onto and off the toilet now. I kiss her head. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

I make it into Manhattan as quickly as is humanly possible and head to a coffee shop in NoLIta. It’s on a quiet street just off Broadway and is almost completely white inside. It feels more like Miami than New York.

Olivia is sitting at a corner table with a woman I don’t recognize. The other woman is sleek and beautiful and severe-looking: all black clothing, dark hair slicked right back, and a strong red lip. As I approach, her face softens. She smiles at me as if she knows me, and I hastily pull my beanie off, embarrassed that I don’t look more put-together in front of these two fashionistas. Olivia, as usual, looks immaculate. She’s in a fluffy pink sweater, her honey-colored hair falling in perfect waves. She stands and hugs me.

“Hey, babe. Thank you so much for rushing in. This is my friend Vanessa. Vanessa, meet Elyse.”

“Hey,” I say, leaning forward to shake Vanessa’s hand while trying to smooth the static out of my hair. I bet she’s never had a static moment in her whole sleek life.

She’s still smiling at me, though. Smiling and shaking her head. “You’re adorable.” She turns to Olivia. “She’s even more gorgeous in person.”

“You know it,” Olivia says.

Having people talk about your appearance as if you’re not right there is very normal in the modeling world, but this feels a little strange—mainly because I have no clue who Vanessa is or why I’ve been summoned here. But Olivia points to the free seat across from them.

“Sit. I got you a cappuccino.”

I slide gratefully into my seat. The barista has drawn a beautiful leaf on the foam of my coffee, and it reminds me of our walks around Fairwater. I can barely stand to ruin it.

“So, first up,” Olivia says with a little smile, pulling something up on her phone, “girl. What the actual fuck? You’re dating Sinclair Voss?”

She shoves it in my face, and I gasp. Oh my God. It’s a photo of Sinclair and me from last night. I stare at it in shock. Was that—were we leaving the ballet? Jeez, we look so happy. We’re smiling at each other, and it’s so goofy. But wait⁠—

“You made freaking Page Six,” Olivia says. “You hadn’t seen this?”

“No,” I say, still gaping at the image. “Shit. I had no idea.”

But she’s right. Sinclair and I are the lead freaking article on the Page Six website. My mind is racing. He told me it would happen eventually—he warned me that dating him would lead to a lot of public interest—but we were careful last night, or so I thought. We were super discreet.

“Hey,” Olivia says. “It’s okay, babe. Congratulations! This is a big fucking deal.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess?” I pick up my coffee cup with two hands. I’m a little shaky.

“So,” Olivia says, setting her phone down, “I’m glad you saw it here first. This might be a good time to tell you that Vanessa works with Sinclair.”