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It came out before I could stop it.
His eyes darkened and his pupils dilated but he kept silent. The past two months, I had never repeated those words out loud, although I said it in my head every minute I was with him. I did not need to hear it back.
I knew Kyle loved me in his own weird way.
My love did not need validation from his saying three words.
My love was unconditional.
One of my hands tangled his crisp hair and the other cupped his jaw. I held his lips in a loving hold, kissing him gently and then hard until we were barely breathing. He slowly got up and pressed me back on the bed. A wild hunger ripped through us, a ripple of electricity shifting the very air.
“Are we—”
Kyle caught my mouth so that the end of my sentence was lost. He sucked my lips so hard I gasped and he drew away, eyes scanning my face. Silhouetted against the low lamplight, he no longer looked like a hostile obsidian pillar, but a bronze and craggy sculpture carved by Rodin.
He took off his shirt, pulled mine off and whispered, “Get ready to be wall-banged.”
I twisted excitedly in my seat. “Where are you taking me? Where are you taking me?”
“Simmer down, kiddo. It’s surprise time.”
Kyle expertly navigated the snowplowed Chicago roads teeming with downtown traffic.
It was almost evening and in two hours we were expected at the Proto-Smash red carpet banquet. Kyle and I had stayed awake in each other’s arms all night and woken up past noon. We spent the rest of the day exploring Chicago. After we walked through the snow draped public art of Millennium Park, I gave Kyle a breathless tour of the Art Institute. Then we parked by the Adler Planetarium and braved the frozen tundra for the superb lakeshore views and topped it all off with the best deep-dish pizza in town.
And now, I had no idea where we were going. I needed to go back to the hotel to get ready for the evening.
“So where are we going? Tell me. Tell me.” I turned to him with puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.
With a sidelong glance at my face, he laughed. “A wise girl once told me patience is a great quality.”
“A smart man told me impatience gets things done.”
“All right, smartass.”
Kyle pulled up in front of a tall Gothic building and parked the car alongside a valet service. He gave the valet the keys and jumped out to open the door for me. I took a step out but he reached inside and grabbed me in his arms and lifted me over the gray crud of the snow banks lining the pavement.
I giggled. “Put me down, Tarzan. The valet guys are laughing at us.”
“I will never put you down.”
Kyle carried me over a few more snowbanks. Under a green awning dripping with melted snow, he slid me to the ground. On my toes, I kissed the tip of his nose.
We stood by a storefront with gold letters: ALVINA COUTURE. A bell tinkled as Kyle pushed the glass door open and we stepped inside the luxe space. I caught the impression of posh and über-feminine décor—shimmering geometric wallpaper, hanging crystal chandeliers, silver-gold finishes, sparkling mirrored furniture, silk tufted sofas and walls. The white polar bear carpet was so thick, I was glad I was wearing boots for fear of sinking in.
I looked around in wonder. “Wow. Shortest horror story. Made with the souls of a million dead Barbies.”
“It was built on a mass Barbie grave.” In jeans, rough snow boots, and a Safari green, burly jacket, Kyle looked like the antithesis of this place. His height, wide shoulders and considerable bulk, disheveled jaw and scruffy hair made it seem all the more bizarre.
“Hello, my dah-links!” A woman in her fifties came swiftly towards us. Wearing a white slinky gown that shimmered with every step, she had over-bleached platinum hair piled on her head into a giant snail design. She clasped Kyle’s hand in both her hands. “Mr. Kyle. Too too too good to see you again. This is young lady we wait for?”
“Wait for what?” I said, confused.
“I am Alvina Babka and theez iz my one-stop style shop.” She spoke with a marked Polish accent.
Kyle whispered in my ear, “Don’t get mad. It was Evan’s idea. You are going to get spoiled. Alvina has clothes and whatever else you need for tonight’s banquet.”
My brow furrowed. “Kyle, I would so rather spend the time with you.”
Noting our private conversation, Alvina discreetly drifted to the corner of the shop.
“Alvina will get you ready for tonight. Just enjoy.”
Panicky at the idea of parting from him and being stuck in this Barbie burial chamber, I threw my arms around his neck, my lips on his ears. “I love that you did this. Too too too kind. But I have the dress Evan sent me. The one I wore on Christmas. Will that not do?”
“Of course. A cardboard box will do on you, June-Bug. Look, I have a meeting with the Proto-Smash board at the hotel. Evan is at the conference setting it up. Then I’ll put on my tux and come here.”
“Alright.” I pressed my lips on both his cheeks. “I’ll get princessed.”
“I’ll pick you up in two hours,” he whispered.
Heart sinking low, I watched him go out of the store. He blew me a kiss from the storefront and I caught it in the air.
Gulping, I turned to Alvina. “I’m all yours.”
She grinned. “Kotku, you look like lamb in slaughterhouse, not girl I make like Vogue cover.”
“Okay. But you need magic to turn a nerd into a cover girl.”
“Oh, no, no, no, magic. You are beautiful. Like Kotku. Cat in Polish. Nature’s beauty. Not fake beauty, you are. Think me like your magic Babushka.”
I followed Alvina to a long dark hall and down narrow stairs to a basement. It opened into a bigger part of the shop with aisles of dresses and shelves of shoes and purses. At the far end was a glitzy glass display of jewelry behind which stood a young man and a girl.
I twirled around. “This is stunning.”
“Velcome to Alvina’s style vault,” Alvina said. “Mr. Evan, very nice man, sent me your size. Here you see too too too beautiful dresses for you. We pick what you like. Sammy and Helena, come here.” The two young people standing by the wall came forward. “This is Sammy, he help pick your dress and accessories. This Helena, will pamper you. Hair. Makeup. Perfume.”
The curvy, raven-haired Helena rocked her 1940s pinup girl look. She gave me a hug and ran a finger down my head. “Love all that hair. Can’t wait to style it.”
Sammy had a man bun, a sharp beard and wore a navy blazer over purple skinny jeans. With a distant smile, he shook my hands. “So good to have you here, Miss Mills. We keep the latest and best couture collection. Elie Saab. Gaultier. Valentino. And my favorite, Zuhair Murad. Let’s have you try on a few dresses and accessorize accordingly.”
Sammy made me try on a dozen or so dresses—a flurry of silk, satin, velvet, brocade, and crinkle georgette creations—out of which two dresses were selected. One of them was a peacock blue Zuhair Murad creation with a clenched bodice and a long flared skirt. The other one was a beige and bronze Elie Saab dress that slinked over my body snug as a snake’s discarded skin. I liked the second but it made me look so sexy, I was almost unrecognizable.
As I modeled the beige dress, Alvina shrieked in delight.
“You too too lucky, Mr. Kyle is wonderful also handsome man. And tonight, he lucky.”
Sammy nodded. “What a gentleman. They don’t make men like that anymore.”
“Yes. And he always treats all his girlfriends so well,” Helena murmured absently.
Pausing in mid-twirl, I came to a standstill. “Girlfriends, did you say?”
She flushed and looked down. “I meant girlfriend.”
“Go fetch purse from back store,” Alvina snapped at Helena.
“It’s okay,” I said with a warm smile. “Kyle and I are very close.”
“I’m so very sorry,” muttered Helena.
“Go, Helena,” Alvina repeated.
With a pained expression, Helena left and Alvina and Sammy looked at me in the awkward silence.
Dread spiked my heart.
I swallowed. “It’s fine. I know about all of Kyle’s exes and he about mine. She must be talking about Izzy. I’m sure she came here last year.”
“I know not Izzy.” Alvina shook her head. “We dress other one last year.”
“Which one? You can tell me. Was it Linda the lawyer?” I smiled encouragingly.
“No, it was all tall girl...with black hair. I think Indian. And English accent.”
“Oh, Anu. The British model?”
“Yes. That was name. She spent a few months in America with Kyle.” She looked away and said, “But now, you are lucky girl. He cares too too much. Always tells me carte blanche.”
Always?
How many other girls had come here with Kyle? And this wasn’t even his city. Had Kyle lied to me about how many girls he had been with in his past? I wracked my mind over what Izzy had told me about Anu and surmised she was probably his Winter last year.
I looked out of the high basement windows. It had started to snow again.
I shivered instinctively and held my arms out as Sammy unzipped the dress.
“Let’s try one more,” Sammy said to distract me.
He reached for a long gold dress with fluted fish fins that I knew was way too extravagant for the occasion.
“Here. Just for fun.”
On wearing it, I looked at the cheval mirror and paused. I twisted my hand behind my back as Sammy and Alvina oohed and ahhed over my dress.
Who had I become?
Who was this kept girl staring back at me?
Was she the same one who had spoken on a panel at Loyola University yesterday? I did not belong here. Not with dresses that cost more than my monthly salary and shoes that could break my bank and overpriced jewelry that could break a baron’s bank.
Izzy belongs here.
Anu belongs here.
Denise belongs here.
Marissa and Willow belong here.
These are things they love.
So what?
Kyle is with you. And he wants a future with you.
Let go of his past.
Lifting my neck up, I vowed not to let negative thoughts ruin what Kyle and I had.
My vow was short-lived.
Helena appeared and led me to a small luxe salon in the back of the fashion vault. As she shampooed my hair, I stared vacantly at the tiny crystal rainbows on the ceiling made by the chandeliers. Though I tried, I could not delete my toxic thoughts. Mixed in with my self-aware insecurity was the reality of our unbridgeable lifestyles.
For the past two months, I had been beyond happy to be with Kyle. I had murdered the man-hater inside, and somehow, in that time, I had managed to keep my doubts and fears at bay. Just when I was so sure about us, the edges of my happiness curled like burnt paper.
Yes, Kyle said he wanted us to last, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew parting was inevitable. For, how far could Kyle and I go? How long would we last? I recalled his words from just three months ago.
Don’t you think, Juniper, everything comes to its natural end? Friendship ends, lovers fall out of love, marriages break, people die, cities fall, stars implode and turn into supernovas, and even this planet will crumble one day. Nothing lasts forever.
My throat ached. Like I had swallowed bird beaks.
I wasn’t blind. I saw the predatory way other girls stared at Kyle when we were together, some even going so far as to slip him their phone numbers, in front of me. It was gratifying to see him not be cocky and dismiss them instantly. But how long would that last?
Ultimately, he’d tire of me and fall back into his old ways.
One day, another girl would replace me. She would stand here...and maybe someone would tell her about me. A girl younger and prettier than me, because that was the Paxton way. It was the way of the world. It was a way I had avoided until I met Kyle. It was a way my mother had blocked for me. Ironically, her lifetime pledge of protection had done little good. As soon as I had entered the real world, I found my way back to where my lot was leading me.
To a dark, dangerous man who would break me one day.
Oh why, oh why, did I not fall in love with someone uncomplicated?
Someone as sweet and kind as Lila’s Sam or as simple and intellectual as Dr. Dean Dillon? Dean was my type.
Kyle was not.
Why am I attracted to the special brand of crazy that is Kyle Paxton?
As Helena teased my hair into loose glamourous ringlets, tears pricked my downcast eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked in concern.
I nodded. “Yes. I’m just tired.”
All right, Juniper, enough with the clinical level neurotic rants.
I had to trust Kyle. He had changed a lot for me. He was not going anywhere. He loved me. He just did not know how to express himself.
Yeah. Keep telling yourself that. If he loves you, he would say it.
I was stirred out of my thoughts by Alvina’s face inches from my nose. “Ah. Too too pretty. Like kotku doll.”
“Thanks.”
“Up-do or down?” Helena asked.
“Whatever you think.” My voice was flat as paper.
“Event makeup or natural?” Helena asked.
“Whatever you think.”
“Which dress we pick?” Alvina asked.
“Whatever you think.”
“Madam no pleased with us?” Alvina’s glistening strawberry lips made a moue of discontent.
My head snapped up. “No. No. You all have been more than wonderful. I had so much fun.” I forced a smile at my style team. “Why don’t you all pick the dress?”
“I have idea. You get ready. When Mr. Kyle pick you up, we give him show and he pick dress.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
An hour later, when Kyle arrived, Sammy led me up and whispered, “I don’t know you, honey. But I like you. Remember what Mark Badgley said, ‘The most glamorous accessory you can wear? Confidence.’ Own it, girl.”
I beamed at him. “Thanks, dear.”
Alvina, Sammy and Helena waited in the fashion vault and I went alone upstairs. On seeing Kyle, I felt shy as I had not seen him in anything but casual weekend gear for a long time. He stood by the white couch, looking sleek and smooth in a tux. He had shaved and his hair was slicked back and shiny. He looked exactly like the man I had first met at the museum gala, five months ago. Maybe he was even wearing the same tux.
I had on the sexy beige and bronze dress that wrapped my body like a thin spring roll. I catwalked to him in my tall heels as if I was born in them.
“Hi, Kyle.”
His lips parted and his eyes darkened. “Sorry, lady, I’m taken. Have you seen my girlfriend?”
I giggled. “Silly. What do you think?”
“Wow. You are a smoking hot goddess.”
“Thanks. Gonna show you two dresses. This is exhibit A. You like?”
“Come closer.” Eyes glued on me, Kyle fell back on the large tufted armless sofa. With his outstretched legs and hands on relaxed knees, he looked every inch the medieval overlord ready to select a peasant girl to enslave. “You know I wear glasses and I need you to come closer.”
I got closer and tilted his jaw with one finger and kissed his neck, my mouth travelling up to his lips. In the lingering remnants of my fear and anger, I teased his lower lips in my teeth and bit him. Hard.
He gasped softly. “I thought we were here for fashion, but if you have other ideas in mind, I’m game. I’ll take one for the team.”
“Hardy har har.”
His hand caressed the small of my back. “This dress is unbelievable on you.”
“Great. On to the next one.”
I tried to move away but he grabbed my hands. “I’m a very helpful guy. I’ll help you undress. Zippers can be tricky, you know.”
“Don’t worry. I have the delightful Sammy and Helena helping me.”
“Please tell me Sammy’s not unzipping you.”
“Grow up, big baby.”
My heart pulsed fast. Why did Kyle have such freaking double standards? I'd never so much as been with another man and he could not stand the idea of me being tailored by one. Yet he'd had the gall to bring me to the place where he'd gotten all of his ex-buddies dolled up.
Goddamn whited sepulcher.
“So, yes to the dress?”
“No to this dress. Every red-blooded man will gawk at you and I will not be able to deliver my speech. Right now, all my blood is rushing to one place.”
The blood in my cheeks collected and I looked at my hands—that were instinctively caressing his thighs. “Kyle this one will do, because you want me to win hearts tonight.”
“No. Win hearts, not slay them. Show me another one.”
“Fine.” I got up and walked back.
“Yeah. Work it, girl,” he said, whistling.
Ignoring his catcalls and whistles, I stuck my tongue out at him. “Voyeuristic bastard.”
“It’s the way you like ‘em.”
I gulped and stopped in my tracks. His words echoed in my head. They were the exact words he’d said to Izzy when I had overheard them....so long ago...at the gala when I had first met him.
Oh God.
I ran down the stairs. Back in the basement, Sammy and Helena got me ready in seconds. Gold heels were swapped with black, my lipstick color went from red to taupe, my chignon was loosened, my hair flipped, and I was ready to go.
I stepped out wearing the blue peacock dress and flounced up to Kyle.
“Still a goddess,” he said with a lazy grin. “This is perfect for the occasion. I love it because it covers up more of you.”
Frowning, I went up to him and put both my knees on his thighs and my hands by his neck, not caring about the dress getting crushed.
“Seriously, Paxton. I’m getting a misogynistic, xenophobic vibe from you right now. Not to mention hypocritical. Do you recall what your other Summers and Winters used to wear? Did you give a crap about that?”
With a swift movement, Kyle jerked my knees back and had me lying in his lap. “Listen, I’m sick and tired of you talking about my past. You are not my Summer and you’re not my Winter.”
“Why not? The past slips away...but it’s always here.”
“June-Bug, this is the present.”
“History repeats itself. I should know. It’s my job. So why should my history be any different?” My forlorn voice made my worries obvious.
“You’re my girlfriend. My only one.”
I snapped my fingers. “And one day, just like that, you’ll find someone else.”
He shook his head, eyes full of navy concern. “What brought this on? What if you find someone else?”
“Kyle, I’ve never been attracted to another man in my life. Except you. Not. A. Single. One.”
“Well, you do have excellent taste.”
“And you have an excellent ego.”
He put a hand under my neck and lifted my face to his lips. Kissing me tenderly, he gazed into my eyes. “You’re not just my girlfriend. You are the love of my life.”
Time stopped.
I finally found my voice. “Kyle. Oh.”
“I am not hypocritical, sweetheart. I just don’t want anyone to see you the way I do.”
With stars in my eyes, I sighed contentedly against his arm. “I’m sorry. Everything else you’re saying is gobbledygook. All I can hear is, love of my life.”
He grinned. “Alright, punk. Let’s get back. Sixteen minutes till red-carpet at the event.”
“All I can hear is, love of my life.”
A publicist held up a blank sheet of paper under my nose. “J-u-n-i-p-e-r M-i-l-l-s. So are you Mr. Paxton’s date for today?”
Kyle and I stood by the red carpet entrance of the Proto-Smash conference. Evan had just introduced us to the event publicist and she was getting us ready for the gaggle of press lining one side of the red carpet.
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Kyle said. “She is my girlfriend.”
“Great,” she said. “Mr. Paxton, they’ll talk to you about BirdsEye, and you, Miss Mills, mostly about your dress.”
Kyle and I smiled at each other. As we walked up to the flashing lunacy of the red carpet, I whispered, “I guess I’m your best accessory tonight.”
“Possession. You’re my best possession.”
Before I had a chance to respond to his disturbing comment, the flood of flashes and questions took over our attention. There were local Chicago TV stations, worldwide TV science shows, tech magazines, tech bloggers, and YouTube channels eager to grill Kyle Paxton—keynote and award recipient of the Proto-Smash conference.
Kyle patiently answered all the questions about BirdsEye, his inventions and his company’s global growth, while I hung on his arm. Some of the photographers asked me to move so they could take his picture alone. Some asked us to pose together. At one point, Kyle slipped an arm around my waist and attached me to his side, grinning down at me. This drove some of the press crazy. A few began to notice me and asked who I was and Kyle introduced me as his girlfriend.
Then they started to question me. But the only thing they asked was who made my dress. I felt like saying, Little fingers in a third world country, but I bit my tongue and named the designer.
Soon the flashes, the heat of the spotlights and the cluster of press against the velvet rope began to take its toll and I felt claustrophobic. I eased away from Kyle and waited at the end of the rope and smiled at him. I’d never been more proud of him.
Of us.
I was the love of his life, after all.
