“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take it,” London shoots back without hesitation.

“Yes.” I clap my hands in excitement.

“Congratulations. You’re a business owner. Come to the office so we can sign some paperwork,” Paris commands.

* * *

I hang my pink hat and jacket on the coat rack in the living room next to the wide window. The apartment I moved into is not as fancy as the apartment I once shared with Gunner. It’s a small two-bedroom with a spacious kitchen and a fireplace. But I love it; it’s as cozy as a warm blanket. Izzy sits on the purple sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine. Her wet, straight black hair falls down her shoulders and she smells of vanilla as I perch next to her. She isn’t picking up any modeling gigs until February, claiming she needs a break.

“How was work?” she asks. The flat screen television is showing America’s Next Top Model. This woman eats, sleeps, and breathes modeling.

“You’re looking at a business owner,” I say as a smile spreads across my face, causing her to look up from her magazine.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Paris and London want me to take over, so they can leave the city to travel. I’m so nervous and scared.”

She hugs me and kisses my cheeks, getting sticky lip gloss on my skin.

“We should celebrate,” she says.

“Maybe tomorrow. I don’t want to go back out in that cold. How was your day? Are you hooking up with Matt again tonight?”

They’ve been doing random hookups at his place. He gets off at the wee hours in the morning. I asked her if their relationship is serious and she said no, her parents wouldn’t approve of someone like him, but she doesn’t like him in that way. She’s got her eyes set on another supermodel she met when she was in London and wants to ask her out for a date. Izzy dates more women than men. During our friendship, I’ve only known her to date three men but she’s had a dozen girlfriends.

“Not tonight. He’s in Seattle with his family looking at a location for a new club.” She disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a brown, square box wrapped in duct tape in her hand. “Darien dropped this off. He said it’s from Gunner.”

And my heart drops to the white carpet and bounces up and down. I snatch it out of her hand and stare at her for several moments. Slowly, I tear it open. Inside there are stacks of letters, so I grab one and unfold it and I rub my hand on the letters in his sloppy handwriting. Tears leak from the corner of my eyes as I inhale the scent of the paper—it smells like him, cinnamon and heaven.