Never Enough | Luke Hemmings

Epilogue

"And more than anything else in the world, I admire the way you carry your pain, even the air around you stills, humbled by your bravery and your grace."
- Nikita Gill

**

Three Months Later

Luke's Point of View

New York City in November is bitterly cold and windy but the slow seasonal change from Autumn to Winter is breathtaking to watch. The orange leaves fall and litter the busy streets below. 

I stare out at the city from Sierra's new office on Bradford's sixty-eighth floor. It's the opening of her label today and frankly, she was losing her mind. "She needs to go on now." Sierra's new assistant, Noah, a guy with rainbow dyed hair and a squeaky voice says from the doorway, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

I sigh with a nod and knock on the bathroom door for the fifth time. "Baby, you can't hide in there forever, please, come out."

The door finally clicks open and Sierra walks out, her heels clicking against the marble floor and her face a little pale. "You have absolutely nothing to be worried about, everything is in place." I cup her face, giving her forehead a lingering kiss.

"There are so many people out there, what if they don't like the designs?" She groans and wraps her arms around my torso, laying her head on my chest like she would love to disappear into it.

"You are brilliant my love, there is no doubt of that. I mean, I know zilch about fashion but even I can proudly say it's amazing. They will love it." I rub her back comfortingly and she straightens a little, tucking her hair behind her ears and taking a deep breath.

I adjust the lapels of her burgundy suit coat and she manages a nervous smile. "Thank you for everything."

"I love you and don't thank me, I have done nothing but maybe whine at you sometimes to let me fuck you on those tables in your office while you work—ow!" I complain as she whacks me in the chest, laughing. "Watch your filthy mouth!"

"We're surrounded by the French, you should see the shit they say. Plus, you love this filthy mouth." I point at my own lips.

She groans in that way she does when she knows I'm right. "Stop before I jump you and miss the opening of the biggest moment in my career." Her smile is contagious as she says this.

"There is that smile, go get 'em, tiger." I slap her ass and she rolls her eyes, walking out of the room in a better mood and instantly being swallowed up by photographers and a whole lot of other people I'm annoyed at about getting her anxiety levels up.

I trail behind, the photographers sneaking pictures of me as we get into the elevators to go down to the floor with the stage where the fashion show is being held today. Designers from all around the world have been coming in all morning, Lilian Bradford proudly shouting orders up here at everyone as Sierra hid her face in my leather jacket and managed to keep her anxiety at bay. It hasn't been a frequent visitor for awhile now so when it did come to check up on her, it came at full force.

We make our way backstage, aka mayhem, it's much worse than a bloody concert multiplied by a hundred. There are people everywhere, models prancing around, their limbs flying all over the place. One almost pokes my eye out with her get up as she spins for a camera and I lose sight of Sierra in the frenzy.