"Guess who just opened a design boutique two blocks away?" Victoria asked without preamble, poking her head into my office at the studio. I looked up from the fabric samples spread across my desk. "Who?" 'Phoebe Graham. Or should I say, Phoebe Graham-Atelier now. Apparently, she got married while studying in Milan." The name hit me like a physical jolt, calling up memories I'd pushed aside during my time in Paris. "Phoebe's back in Northbrook?" Victoria nodded, leaning against my doorframe. "Opened a high-end textile design studio. Specializing in sustainable luxury fabrics, according to the write-up in the Business Journal." She studied me curiously. "Did you know she was in Milan? That's not far from Paris." "I had no idea," I admitted. During my time abroad, I'd deliberately avoided news from Northbrook, especially anything that might connect to Lucas or our shared past. "I haven't thought about Phoebe in... a long time." This wasn't entirely true. In the early days of my pregnancy, alone, and uncertain in Paris, I'd often wondered what might have happened if Lucas had chosen Phoebe instead of suddenly declaring his feelings for me. Would they be together now? Would she have given him the family he seemed to want so desperately? "Well, her opening reception is tonight," Victoria continued, oblivious to my internal turmoil. "Industry only. We should go-scope out the competition." "I don't think that's a good idea," I said quickly. "Things are complicated enough right now with Lucas and the baby." Victoria raised an eyebrow. "All the more reason to see what your former rival is up to. Besides, her textiles might be perfect for the Henderson project. Two birds, one stone." Despite my reservations, Victoria's business logic was sound. If Phoebe was creating the kind of sustainable luxury fabrics the Henderson group valued, it would be professional malpractice not to at least consider then for the project. "Fine," I relented. "But we're making a brief appearance, purely professional." Victoria grinned triumphantly. "I'll pick you up at seven. Wear that navy dress with the dramatic neckline-you know, the one that makes your collarbones look like they could cut glass." I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. Victoria's blunt enthusiasm was one of the things I'd missed most during my Parisian exile. That evening, after arranging for my father to watch little Lucas, I found myself standing outside Phoebe Graham-Atelier, a sleek storefront with minimalist displays showcasing richly textured fabrics in jewel tones. Through the windows, I could see a crowd of Northbrook's design elite mingling over champagne. "Ready?" Victoria asked, linking her arm through mine. "As I'll ever be," I muttered, smoothing a hand over my navy dress-which I had, in fact, chosen specifically for this occasion, though I'd never admit it to Victoria. Inside, the boutique was even more impressive than it appeared from outside-a carefully curated showcase of textiles and small home goods, all bearing the distinctive aesthetic I remembered from Phoebe's early work at Crawford Publishing. The space was buzzing with conversation, waiters circulating with trays of champagne and elegant canapés. "Autumn Shepherd," a voice said from behind me. "I heard you were back in town." I turned to find Phoebe Graham-now Phoebe Graham-Atelier-watching me with an unreadable expression. She looked different from when I'd last seen her-more polished, more confident, her honey-blonde hair cut in a sophisticated bob, her simple black dress clearly designer. "Phoebe," I acknowledged, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Congratulations on the opening. Th space is beautiful." "Thank you." She glanced at Victoria, who was eyeing the exchange with poorly concealed interest. "Would you mind if I borrowed Autumn for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss privately." Victoria shot me a questioning look, which I answered with a slight nod. "I'll just check out those silk-wool blends by the window," she said, tactfully retreating. Phoebe led me to a small office at the back of the boutique, closing the door behind us to mute the sounds of the reception. Up close, I could see the changes in her more clearly-not just the external polish, but a calmness, a centeredness that hadn't been there before. "I wasn't sure you'd come tonight," she said, gesturing for me to take one of the chairs by her desk. "I sent the invitation to your studio more as a professional courtesy than an expectation." "Victoria thought your textiles might work for a project we're designing," I explained, keeping my tone neutral. "It was a business decision." Phoebe nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "Always practical. That's one of the things he admired about you, you know." The unspoken name hung between us, impossible to ignore. "Phoebe, I don't think-" "I owe you an apology," she interrupted, surprising me. "Several, actually. But let's start with the most recent. I'm sorry for avoiding you in Paris." I stared at her, confused. "You were in Paris?" "For six months last year. I was studying textile design at École Maison. I knew you were there-Lucas told me when he was trying to find you. I even saw you once, at that café near the Luxembourg Gardens. You were Chapter 29: Phoebe's New Beginning with your son." She looked down, fiddling with a ring on her left hand-a wedding band, I realized. "I walked th other way. I wasn't ready to face you." The revelation that Phoebe had been in Paris, had seen me and my son, left me momentarily speechless. "Why are you telling me this now?" She looked up, meeting my gaze directly. "Because I'm done running from the past. Done pretending that what happened between all of us didn't matter, didn't shape who we've become." I nodded, understanding despite myself. Wasn't that exactly what I'd been doing in Paris? Running from the past, from feelings too complicated to face? "I heard you got married," I said, changing the subject slightly. Phoebe's expression softened, a genuine smile lighting her features. "Yes. Alessandro Atelier. He's a textile engineer I met in Milan-brilliant, kind, completely outside the Northbrook social scene. We got married six months ago." "Congratulations," I said, meaning it. "You look happy." "I am." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Happier than I would have been with Lucas, I think. What I felt for him wasn't... it wasn't built on anything real. Just rebellion and fantasy and a lot of misplaced pride." The candid admission caught me off guard. "You don't need to explain-" "I do, actually." Phoebe leaned forward, her expression earnest. "Because you need to know something. Luca loved you. Even before he realized it himself." I shook my head, unwilling to hear this from her of all people. "Phoebe-" "I saw it in how he talked about you," she continued, undeterred. "How he'd mention something you'd said or done, this note of respect in his voice he never had for anyone else. How he'd get this look when your name came up-annoyed and impressed all at once." She smiled ruefully. "I was jealous, though I wouldn't admit it even to myself. You were everything I wasn't- educated, sophisticated, from his world. You belonged at his side in a way I never could." "That's not true," I protested. "I was never really part of that world either. My mother was-" I stopped, realizin I was about to share something deeply personal with a woman who had once been my rival. But Phoebe nodded, understanding. "I know. About your mother, about how you came to live with your father later. Lucas told me once, when he was trying to explain why he felt so protective of you in high school." The revelation that Lucas had discussed me with Phoebe, had remembered his protective instincts from our school days, sent an unexpected pang through my chest. "The point is," Phoebe continued, "whatever happened between Lucas and me was never going to last. It wasn't built on anything substantial. But what you two had-have-that's different." I studied her, trying to reconcile this mature, insightful woman with the proud, defensive girl I'd known. "Why are you telling me all this?" "Because I'm happy now," she said simply. "Really, truly happy with Alessandro. And I want that for Lucas too. For both of you, actually." She smiled, the expression warm and genuine. "Life's too short to let pride or fear keep you from something real, Autumn. Trust me on that." Before I could respond, a knock came at the office door, followed by Victoria's voice. "Autumn? The Henderson people just arrived. They're asking about the textile options." "I should go," I said, standing. "It was... good to see you, Phoebe. Truly." She stood as well, extending her hand. "Likewise. And Autumn? Your son is beautiful. He has Lucas's eyes." I shook her hand, feeling the strange sense that something important had just happened-some final closure on a chapter of my life that had remained unresolved despite time and distance. "Thank you," I said. "And congratulations again on all of this. You've built something impressive here." As I rejoined the reception, fielding questions from the Henderson representatives about fabric options and design timelines, I found my thoughts returning to Phoebe's words. Was she right about Lucas? Had his feelings for me developed earlier than either of us realized? And more importantly, was I still letting pride and fear keep me from something real? I didn't have answers yet. But for the first time since returning to Northbrook, I felt ready to start looking for them.