Everyone was worried. Jules caught herself exchanging nervous looks with Simon more than once as they watched Vivian struggle to remember a name or an appointment. Jules tried to be more vigilant than ever, doing her best to anticipate Vivian’s every need. This wasn’t any easier than usual, and she was afraid she was going to give herself an ulcer.

By the end of the week, it was obvious—to Jules, at least—that Vivian wasn’t just stressed out or unhappy. Something was really, really wrong.

It was half-past midnight on Sunday, and she’d canceled her brief appearance at Marc Jacobs’s party that evening in favor of working. So of course Jules was working on a Sunday night as well, sitting at her desk within sight of Vivian so she could leap into action at a second’s notice.

Vivian seemed even less happy than her. More than once, Jules caught her staring off into space and appearing unaware of her own surroundings. Was she losing it? No wonder, with the way her life was falling down, and she wasn’t giving herself a moment of peace and quiet.

I’m not like you. She watched Vivian glance out the windows for what seemed like the thousandth time. Nope, not me. Definitely not.

Even Simon wasn’t here at this hour. Jules and Vivian were the only ones in the office, and Jules had nothing to do. She couldn’t call anyone, and Vivian was fully updated on everything. To be fair, she wasn’t just killing time—she was inundated with emails, with copy, with decisions she had to make. The LA shoot was in a week, and everyone was panicking. But Vivian didn’t actually need Jules for anything except, apparently, silent company.

Jules had a copy of This is Not Fashion hidden in her desk drawer, though, and with a little luck, she could hide it in her lap and read it without Vivian noticing. King Adz’s history of streetwear was something she’d been meaning to get to for a while. The pictures of cityscapes grabbed her imagination, especially those in Europe and Asia. There was something about the way towers and skyscrapers coexisted with older, even ancient, buildings. Might that not be reflected in style as well? Clothes and accessories that seemed to clash at first but combined to tell a unique story about the wearer?

It wasn’t too different from what Vivian had said about fashion being completion, not compromise. There might be an article in there somewhere. Jules had just started making notes when Vivian called out, her voice hoarse (though she hadn’t been talking to anyone), “Water!”

She sighed silently, tucked the book back inside the drawer, and hurried to fetch a bottle of Perrier from the mini-fridge. When she headed into Vivian’s office, she froze inside the doorway.