Chapter 11
Everything I want, you got it.
âCiara, “Other Chicks”
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Cancelling some appointments to jet-set around the world to Paris and take a few days to herself before Paris week had been the best decision Farrah made in months. She was supposed to style Lana Del Rey for H&M's Christmas campaign, but Farrah really needed the time to get away from everything. If she hadn't gotten out of St. Louis as fast as she had, she was sure to have lost her sanity. Mills would've continued bombarding her with calls and unwanted pop-up visits and once the media got wind of their separation, a media circus would have ensued.
Farrah didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with that. She had to put her mind on pause. She needed a change in scenery and different air to breathe. She didn't need Mills all up in her ear trying to convince her to come back to him. If she did decide to go back, it would be on her own merit. But running back into Mills's arms was the furthest thing from her mind.
Farrah didn't even want to breathe the same air as him. The mere sound of his name made her head hurt. Paris was the perfect distraction and stress reliever. Farrah, London, and one of their assistants were staying at the glamorous Four Seasons Hotel George V. The Four Seasons in Paris redefined luxury at its best and it was just steps away from the Champs-Elysées.
Farrah and London both had their own suite. Upon walking in you were greeted by an entrance foyer that led to a large sitting room with period furniture, while the bedroom was secluded by sliding doors. They even had their own terrace overlooking the city. Since they'd arrived earlier than scheduled, Farrah used the extra days to ponder over her marriage.
She often found herself on the terrace alone, absently staring out at her surroundings. She'd cry, question, wonder, wallow, and more than anything, pray. The only person who could bring her through this was God. Her heart belonged to Mills, but since she'd met him their relationship had been plagued with nothing but drama.
Thank God, Paris always brought a smile to her face. Every time she visited, she instantly fell in love with the city. The trip this year was a bittersweet one for Farrah because of everything going on in her personal life. She was enjoying herself, but the joy of it kept getting short-lived when she thought about all the drama that was waiting for her back in the States.
As a celebrity stylist, though, Farrah had to stay on point because Paris Fashion Week was essential for her business to continue its success. The clothes shown during Paris Fashion Week set the tone for what the entire industry followed that season. Although it was a never-ending cluster fuck of show after show, networking, fake air kisses, parties, late dinners, and no sleep, Farrah loved every second of it. This trip was one she looked forward to every year.
She and London attended all of the major shows like, Christian Lacroix, Ungaro, Chanel, and John Galliano. You name the designer and they were there. On a starry Parisian night Farrah sat front row at the late, great Alexander McQueen spring-summer fashion show. The new designer for McQueen, Sarah Burton, said in interviews that the collection was inspired by bees, so Farrah was beyond excited.
Hundreds of industry insiders, including Joe Zee from
Elle
magazine, Anna Wintour, Grey Rose from
Haute Couture
magazine, and actress Amanda Seyfried were there. Everyone looked effortlessly chic and put together. Before the show began, Farrah and London stood in front of their seats, posing for photographers.
“Farrah, what are you wearing?” one of the photographers asked.
“McQueen, of course,” she said, winking.
She was in head to toe McQueen, to be exact. To wear any other designer would've been incredibly rude and disrespectful. She wore a striking, silver twill, double-breasted suit adorned with Jacquard dragonflies. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and sparkling gold shadow on her eyes and matte nude lipstick completed her look. Despite the ongoing pang to her chest, Farrah put on a strong face and pretended that everything in her life was peaches and cream.
She wouldn't dare let her peers see her in a vulnerable state. This was business and in business you put your personal shit aside. Besides, she'd had enough of hurting. She'd been hurting for the last four years. As the music cued and the lights went down, Farrah held out her camera to take pictures. McQueen's new designer, Sarah Burton, was a master at crafting exquisite pieces and always put on an amazing show, so she never knew what to expect.
All of a sudden a green orb of light shined bright and snowflakes began to fall from the ceiling, creating a winter wonderland. Models like Coco Rocha, Sessilee Lopez, Jessica Stam, and the number-one model in the world, Joan Smalls, proceeded to stomp the blood cells out of their feet in some of the most spellbinding creations Farrah had ever seen. While Farrah took in the show, she noticed out of the corner of her eye someone staring at her. Wondering who was watching her instead of the show, she gave the person a full view of her face.
Farrah nearly dropped her camera when she realized it was the rapper J.R. undressing her with his eyes. She would've never thought she'd see him again, let alone run into him in a whole other country. She couldn't help but notice that he looked even cuter than before. He could've been a model with his fine self. He donned a black-and-white square printed Staple shirt buttoned all the way to the top. Three thin, gold rope necklaces lay underneath the collar of his shirt. The rest of his look consisted of black, fitted Seven jeans and all-black Christian Louboutin rollerball spikes loafers. On his left wrist, he was sporting a gold submariner Rolex. This man was dripping with fashion swag.
Pursing her lips together, Farrah cocked her head to the side and shot him a look that said
really?
J.R. simply hung his head and grinned that charming, boyish grin of his, then looked back up at her. Unable to focus on the show because she was taken in by J.R.'s presence, Farrah pretended to concentrate on the rest of the show, even though all she could think of was how fine J.R. looked tonight.
“Sarah Burton just gave me life,” London said, standing up to leave.
“Yeah, it was good.” Farrah smoothed down her suit as J.R. made his way over to them.
“Is that . . . ?” London whispered out the side of her mouth.
“Mmm-hmm.” Farrah placed her shoulders back and her breasts out.
“You miss me?” J.R. wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
“Why are you stalkin' me is the real question.” Farrah kept her composure.
Not paying any mind to her statement, J.R. turned to London.
“I never thought I'd see London in Paris,” he said jokingly.
“Damn, you remember my name?” London smiled.
“Yeah, anybody that's important to her is important to me. Ain't that right, girlfriend?” J.R. smirked.
“I'm not going there with you today,” Farrah giggled.
“You look cute. You look like dessert.” J.R. slid his index finger across Farrah's cheek.
It took every bit of willpower she had not to take his finger into her mouth.
“Aww, isn't that sweet.” London nudged Farrah on the arm.
“Stop.” Farrah shot London a stern look.
“Let me give you two lovebirds a minute.” London stepped away grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“What are you doing in Paris? Are you just here for Fashion Week?” Farrah asked, trying to keep the conversation on the surface.
“I'm here for the shows and I'm finishing up my France tour. I have three sold-out concerts at Le Bataclan.”
“That's what's up.” Farrah gave him props. “Did you like the show presentation?
“Nah,” J.R. shook his head. “It was too much weird shit. You, on the other hand, yeah, I like you. But I made that clear the first time we met.”
“You sure did.” Farrah turned beet-red.
“You still married?” J.R. gazed at her left hand.
“Yep.” Farrah looked down at her ring and sighed.
“What was that?” he asked, concerned.
“What was what?” Farrah replied, confused.
“I saw you take a deep breath. What, your happily-ever-after turning out to be a nightmare already?”
“You are so nosy! You do realize I barely know you? I mean, you cute and all, but we ain't cool like that.”
“So you finally admit it. You think I'm cute.” J.R. got in her face.
His lips were inches away from hers. All Farrah had to do was lean forward and place hers upon his. Farrah couldn't front, if she was a single woman she'd allow herself to fall head over heels for this guy. On the surface it seemed J.R. possessed everything she ever wanted in a man. But Farrah was off limits.
“You going really hard for somebody you hardly know. For all you know I could be crazy.” She gazed into his eyes and became lost.
“Stop being afraid. You ain't gotta be scared of me. I ain't gon' hurt you,” J.R. said, seductively placing both his arms around her waist and pulling her into him.
“I'm a grown woman. Grown women don't get scared,” Farrah challenged.
“If that's the case, then quit bullshittin' and let me take you out to eat.”
“Oh my god,” Farrah's voice cracked. “I can't with you today. It was good seeing you again, J.R. Enjoy Paris.” She slightly brushed his arm with her hand before sauntering off.
“You gon' be mine sooner or later!” J.R. shouted after her.
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Complete and utter silence surrounded Jade while she slept peacefully underneath the covers. Sleep had never felt so good. She'd tried getting up numerous times, but the fluffiness of her king-sized pillow and the security of her Egyptian cotton sheets kept her snuggled up in bed. As she slept she had no idea Mills was there. He'd been there for over two hours, getting acquainted with Jaysin.
Once Mills let his guard down and released his ego, he found himself madly in love with his daughter. The sight of her gorgeous little face instantly brightened his day. She was the instant mood-booster he desperately needed. When he looked at her adorable little face he saw a pinch of Jade and a whole glass of him.
He hated that he'd missed her birth and her first few months. It upset him to know he let so much time go without being around her. He'd never get those moments back, but Mills was there now and he would never leave his daughter's side again. He would raise her to be a better, stronger version of himself.
By noon, Mrs. Whitmore, Jade's next-door neighbor, had taught him how to change Jaysin's diaper and he'd given her a bottle. Mrs. Whitmore was a godsend. Ever since Mills asked her if she'd be willing to come help Jade with the baby, she had almost become Jasyin's unofficial grandmother. She'd been a great help to him and Jade. Deciding it was time for Jade to get up, Mills headed to her bedroom, while Mrs. Whitmore gave Jaysin a bath. Being inside Jade's bedroom brought back so many memories that Mills tried to bury. Jade was still living in their old apartment. Except for the baby items scattered throughout the house, she hadn't made many changes to the place since she and Mills broke up and he moved out. Memories of them making love until they weren't physically able to move, late-night talks, arguing over the remote, and more came flooding back.
He remembered when things started to go downhill for them; the nights she didn't come home and wouldn't answer his calls, and the way they'd ignore each other if they were home at the same time. He remembered when he started lusting after Farrah, and after being faithful to Jade for six years he finally cheated on her with Farrah. Walking throughout the house, he could still hear all the screaming and and hurtful words they said to each other. A lot had transpired in this apartment and among those four walls. but now all that was left of everything was just mere memories. There was no use in thinking about the past. Now that they had a child together, they both had to move forward and work things out for the sake of baby Jaysin. Mills had moved on and was a married man and Jade was just the mother of his child and nothing more.
But then why was Mills getting urges to hug or caress her? He found himself wondering if she had any love left for him. And as Mills watched her laying there, sleeping in their old bed, he was nostalgic, remembering why he'd fallen for her in the beginning. He longed to reach out and trace his fingers along her beautiful soft, skin.
Resting had done Jade wonders. Her skin went from sickly and pale and back to its radiant glow. Her blond buzz cut shone underneath the rays of the afternoon sun. Over the sheets, Mills could see the silhouette of her curvy hips and thick waist. He could see her plump breasts through the thin material of the sheets. It was undeniable how sexy this woman was even in her sleep. As quiet as he could, Mills slipped into bed behind Jade, wrapped his arm around her waist, and said, “Damn nigga, you sleep late.” Jade flinched and swiftly turned her head to see who was behind her. She was beyond relieved that it was Mills and not some intruder whose ass she'd have to kick.
“What are you doing here?” she asking, feeling his hard dick pressed up against the crack of her ass.
“I told you I was gon' be back.” Mills hopped out of the bed and adjusted his dick.
“What time is it?” Jade sat up and pretended like she hadn't felt the stiffness of his dick and that it didn't turn her on.
“Time for you to get yo' ass up and fix me something to eat.” Mills opened the blinds.
“You have lost your damn mind and where is my baby?”
“She straight. I already fed her and Mrs. Whitmore is giving her a bath.”