"Am I?"
"Consider it an early wedding present. To me. From you."
Sebastian sighed, but he was smiling in that helpless way he got around her. "Whatever you want."
Xavier materialized at my other elbow, already shaking his head. "Actually, I'm buying the finale dress. For Kim."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "I called it first."
"You called the silver first. The last one is fair game."
"I called both. Sebastian, tell him."
Sebastian held up his hands. "I'm not getting involved."
My mother appeared, still dabbing at her eyes. "Darling, that was beautiful. Your father would have been so proud."
I doubted that, but I hugged her anyway. "Thank you for coming, mom."
"As if I would miss this." She pulled back and cupped my face in her hands. "My brilliant girl. Look at what you've built."
My grandmother was next. She didn't hug—she never did—but she took my hands in hers and held them firmly. Her grip was stronger than it looked.
"Well done," she said simply.
From her, that was everything.
The conversation fragmented into overlapping voices. Aria defending her color choices with passion. Xavier insisting that Kim definitely wanted the dress Naomi wore. Kim protesting that she didn't need Xavier to buy her clothes. My mother mediating with practiced patience. My grandmother offering unsolicited opinions on everyone's complexion and body type.
Normal. Chaotic. Overwhelming in the best way. Home.
I was laughing at something Sebastian said when I noticed Matteo approaching. His sister walked beside him, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Isabelle." He stopped a respectful distance away, hands in his pockets. "Congratulations. The show was incredible."
"Thank you for coming. Both of you." I extended my hand to his sister. "You must be Sofia."
She shook it vigorously. "I cannot believe I'm meeting you. I've followed your work for years. The spring collection last year? The one with the asymmetrical hemlines? I wrote a paper about it for my fashion history course."
"You wrote a paper about my collection?"
"It was either you or Alexander McQueen." She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "You won."
"I'm incredibly flattered."
Matteo was watching me with that quiet amusement I remembered from the vineyard. "I told you she was a fan."
"A fan is a massive understatement." Sofia was still gripping my hand. "I have questions. So many questions. About your process, your inspirations, how you choose your fabrics?—"
"Sofia." Matteo put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps let her breathe? She's had a very long night."
"Right. Yes. Sorry." She released my hand, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm being intense. I know I'm being intense. It's just—you're Isabelle Dubois. In person. Looking exactly like you do in photos, which isn't fair, by the way. Most people look worse in person."
"Thank you. I think."
Sofia glanced between me and Matteo. Something flickered in her expression—curiosity, maybe. Speculation. The look of someone who'd just figured out a secret.
"I'm going to go look at the dresses up close," she announced. "Leave you two to... catch up."