If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

He chuckles. “I guess I shouldn’t tell you about the two years in Germany and four years in Edinburgh….”

“I used to dream about going to boarding school when I was a kid, and there you were casually living my childhood fantasy.”

His laugh is disjointed thanks to the bad connection. “It wasn’t so glamorous,” he assures me. “School years on my own with a couple hundred strangers and summers spent being my mom’s sometimes on-trend, sometimes off-trend seasonal accessory.”

I might not have had as much time as I should have with my parents, but they were mine. All mine. Never once did I feel out of place in their lives. The thought of Henry being anyone’s accessory makes me wish I could reach over and squeeze his hand. “Are you close with your mother?”

He barks a laugh. “Yes. No. Too close. Not close enough.”

“You—you said…On that first night, you said you were here for her…. What did you mean by that?”

“I am,” he says plainly. “I’m here for her. I’m here as a last-ditch effort so her life’s work doesn’t do a swan dive into a pool of hot, flaming financial ruin.”

“I thought…LuMac seemed to be doing okay. It doesn’t seem so bad from the outside?”

I can hear him shifting, and it sounds like he’s sitting up. “She dreamed too big, I think…. Cindy, I’m trusting you not to share this with anyone…. My mother was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.”

My jaw drops, and for the first time, I’m so glad to not be in the same room. Arthritis is an awful thing for anyone to have to deal with…but for those of us who very specifically rely on our hands…it’s a death knell. “That’s really awful. I’m so sorry.”

“I guess you can understand why it would be bad for business if word got out. We’re publicly traded at the moment, so stocks would plummet. Accounts would bail. It would be…devastating, and things are already bad. She was diagnosed a few years ago. We thought she could power through and just sort of…lead without being so involved, but I guess once a workaholic, always a workaholic.”

“Wow, that’s so much to deal with,” I say with a yawn as the city lights blur in the distance, and I pull the blanket up over my shoulders. “So what does all that mean for the show? No offense, but if things are so bad, shouldn’t you be there and not…here?”

He coughs out a painful laugh. “You would think, but no, the idea is that the show will drum up support for the brand. Sort of relaunch it for a new generation. Trust me when I say it wasn’t my first choice. There’s also the potential for future partnerships with the network…. It’s just…I didn’t come here expecting to be invested in—Shit, the little red battery light is blinking at me. I think this thing is about to go.”

“Oh, uh—okay, well, I guess—”

“I wasted the whole night talking about me, and I didn’t even ask you about yourself or how you’re doing…”

I laugh nervously. “You didn’t miss much. There’s not a lot worth knowing.”

“So says you. I spend a lot of time thinking about all the things I wish I knew about you,” he tells me, his voice low and earnest.

My heart jumps into my throat. “Well, I’ve never been on a walkie-talkie date, but this is the best one I’ve ever been on.”

“We didn’t even get to order dessert,” he says.

“Blame it on the walkie-talkie curfew.”

“Next time I’ll take you somewhere that requires shoes.”

“Don’t tease me. You know how much I love shoes, but I guess this is good night.” I don’t want to let go of this moment. I’m not ready.

“Or good morning.”

“Good morning,” I say back to him.

After that, the channel goes dead, and even though it was via walkie-talkie, I think that had to be one of the best dates I’ve ever been on. All that was missing was the kiss.





Afifteen-passenger van picks us up and takes us to the LuMac showroom in SoHo, a twelve-story corner brick building with huge, beautiful glass windows stretching up the entire length of the building.

As we walk in, we’re still buzzing with excitement from spending the night in a hotel room all by ourselves.

“I took a bubble bath,” Chloe says dramatically. “I swear that château was giving me dorm room flashbacks and it wasn’t good.”

Sara Claire shivers with disgust. “No one told me I’d need to bring shower shoes to this show like it was church camp all over again.”

Inside, we find ourselves in a long, narrow storefront. All the mannequins and displays have been pushed to the side, and down the center of the room runs a mini runway lined with chairs.

Addison’s eyes widen like a hyena preparing to pounce. “Are we walking that runway?”

“Welcome to LuMac,” Henry says as he steps out onto the runway, cameras rolling.

Everyone, myself included (ugh, I know), cheers in response. His suit is charcoal with light pinstripes, and considering how perfectly it’s tailored, I think it might be custom. He’s forgone a tie and undone his top button, and a crystal-blue silk pocket square peeks out of his breast pocket. As Sierra would say, he looks like a snack.