1

SUMMER

I didn't recognize the reflection glaring back at me with her perfected smoky eye, fake lashes, and black gown that hugged every hidden curve along her body. Her shoulders were left bare, twisted art wrapped around her collarbone and disappearing beneath the neck of her dress. Sleek, black hair was wrapped into a bun at the back of her head, accentuating her high cheekbones and dark green eyes.

She was perfect. I, on the other hand, was not.

This woman in the mirror wasn't me, but rather a façade I hid behind when it came to the world of fashion. She was confident and strong and beautiful and ready for yet another gala to save the kids or whatever lie rich people were spouting this time. I would have rather been curled up on my couch with a pint of cookie dough ice cream and a crime documentary. Unfortunately, my assistant would hear none of the repeated excuses.

"Summer! My love! Are you ready? Gah, you're gorgeous. Brought in the mail and I found this," a petite woman just under my 5'5" wiggled an overdue notice in the mirror. My eyes snagged the addressee and I just sighed.

Money.

That's all it came down to. Money. Those pesky green bills.

At the end of the day, it made or broke my will to live. And right now? I just wanted to crawl into a ball and die. I snatched the letter from her and ripped it open, the words threatening to end what little happiness my week had brought me.

Overdue.

It wouldn't have been so bad had this not been the third and final letter sent to my apartment. The worst part was that it wasn't even my fault this fucking bill was overdue.

It was my ex-boyfriend's, a piece of trash I should have never gotten involved with, but I had been weak, and drunk, and he was a good fuck which had translated into a good man at the time. He had long since been kicked out of my apartment that I had bought with my money, but his fucking mail still got sent to my address from time to time.

I didn't even know what this bill was for.

Just the fact that it was over $15,000 and that it had been due almost six months ago.

Right in the heart of our relationship.

What the fuck were you doing, Robert?

The shrill ring of my phone vibrating on the edge of the sink drew me out of my head, a small smile spreading across my lips as I stared at the name that popped up on the screen. Archie.

My best friend. My confidant. The weird kid next door with bug eyes, scrappy brown hair, and braces. It worked for him, though. Archie still dragged in all the girls and boys for that matter, his charm overshadowing any flaws that the fashion world liked to pick on.

I hadn't seen him in years, our jobs taking us to different places in life. My education took me to Paris and landed me a job as an editor at one of the largest magazines in NYC – Manifest. And Archie, well, Archibald Morgan inherited an entire stock trading company from his father – Morgan Industries.

I didn't hate him for the money literally pouring into his pockets, but I couldn't say I wasn't jealous about how easy it was for him to just… exist.

"Pick up, shithead."

I grinned at the informal language that popped up on my screen as the call ended. Even as rich and important as Archie was, he was still crude as fuck.

"Maybe I was doing something important." I texted back.

"I'm bored."

My smile grew wider as I leaned forward against the sink, propping my elbows up on the porcelain, forgetting about the bill and focusing on Archie.

"How is that my problem?" I attached a few laughing emojis on the back end and eagerly waited for his response.

Three dots waved across the bottom of my screen, disappeared, and then reappeared before the same inevitable words showed up. I fucking hated them.

"Oops, work is calling. I'll reach back out."

The excitement bubbling up in my chest dissipated and I shoved the phone back onto the counter with a heavy sigh. Archie would call again in a week or two, but I wouldn't pick up and then we'd share a few texts before he ended it with how busy he was.

I envied him for all the emotions he wasn't having. I kept getting caught in the same damn spiral, trying to figure out my life, keep my head on my shoulders, and find a partner worthy of my affections.

So far, I was having shit luck with everything I tried.

Every man that graced my threshold turned out to be less than worthy of anything I had to offer. I was beginning to think it was me and not them.

"Was that Archie?"

An embarrassing squeal left me as I stared into the mirror, having completely forgotten that Natalie was still standing there, watching every emotion and cataloging it for later. She had her thoughts about Archie, ones that I didn't particularly like. He was supposedly a distraction to all my hard work and the image I had built for myself.

When I told her that he was my closest friend, she shot back that I hadn't seen him in 15 years so he couldn't have possibly meant that much to me.

"Are you going to meet up later?"

I frowned and shook my head, "No. He doesn't even know I'm back."

And that was the real problem, wasn't it? I'd been back for nearly three years and I had never reached out to the man who I called my best friend, the man who worked a few blocks from the magazine I slaved over every day.

How we hadn't bumped into each other was a complete mystery to me.

I wasn't even sure why I hadn't reached out to him, to meet up. We were friendly over text, but I didn't really know Archibald Morgan Jr anymore.

"Then forget him," Natalie grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the living room, throwing me a pair of silver stilettos to match the smoky makeup I was covered in. "We have a gala to be at and while being fashionably late is a good thing, we're on the borderline of making it an Olympic sport." Annoyance flashed through her expression as she hurried me along, the very thought that my mind was on anything other than Manifest and finding sponsors a bother to our cause.