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It’s official.

I’m a lovesick sap.

And the worst part?

I don’t think I even want to be cured.

The suite is absolute chaos. Stylists rush past with garment bags, makeup artists argue over palettes, and someone is threatening to murder a steamer.

I sit in the middle of it all in a white silk robe, gazing out at the falling snow outside from an oversized cream chair.

“Left hand, please,” Orly says.

I extend it without looking away from the window.

“The nails are gorgeous.”

“Of course. I’m amazing.”

That earns a smile from me.

Orly gasps. “Oh, absolutely not. I can’t get used to this. You’re smiling.”

“How tragic…”

“I think you need an exorcist.”

I roll my eyes, still smiling.

My phone buzzes.

Human Rain Cloud: You left me…

I smile before I can stop myself.

Me: Who is this?

Human Rain Cloud: Don’t even, princess. I saved my own number in your phone.

Me: That’s deeply concerning.

Human Rain Cloud: You miss me.

I glance at the enormous white wings waiting beside the fireplace, then at the army of people preparing me to walk the runway tonight.

Me: I’m busy.

Human Rain Cloud: Didn’t ask, love.

Another message follows.

Human Rain Cloud: I miss you.

My heart does that stupid little thing again.

I stare at the words, my smile softening.

Me: Good.