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I sank into the chair in front of my computer, and screamed wordlessly until my breath ran out. Then I inhaled and started again.
It didn’t matter. My thoughts were still as much of a wreck as my life. I needed control. To dosomething, anything, that I had power over.
My phone buzzed. A text from Chase. I deleted it without reading it. I couldn’t deal with him right now. With what he’d done. It didn’t matter that it was so long ago. The discovery, the hurt, was fresh.
And I wouldn’t let myself think about Jax or Grayson. That was the path toward a swirling pool of insanity, because I had no answers.
I also refused to wallow and do nothing. Next year’s design schedule was open, in anticipation of me picking up and moving. Time to fix that. I’d create new, more unique than ever designs, and fuck being stonewalled by Hollywood, I’d find another avenue for my future. I’d redefine everything.
I grabbed my sketchpad and colored pencils, rolled my chair to the clear part of my desk, and started to sketch. This was a project I’d wanted to do for years, a custom piece of female armor, but it wasn’t work and it wasn’t pressing, so I’d put it off.
Today I poured everything into it. Notes about textures. Fabric. Shapes.
Anne texted me.You all right?
I sent her back a quickYes. :)and kept my focus on my work.
Chase sent me another message, and then called. I ignored it all. The horror movie date with Grayson and Jax was presumably off. Assumptions let things go this far. What was one more?
I lost track of time as I spilled different angles and dozens of notes onto one page after another. Then I moved onto a male version. A rough sketch. I wanted to see them together. I turned to a fresh page, and let my pencils fly over the paper.
Who was I going to have model this for me? The picture in front of me blurred. I scrubbed away the tears with the back of my hand, and turned to a new page. Time for a different outfit. Something white. Maybe with gold accents. The faintest pink. Lace.
The rough outline of a wedding dress stared back at me. Forget worrying about two grooms, I didn’t even have one.
I ripped the page from my sketchpad, crumpled it up, and tossed it at the wall. It hit without a sound and dropped to the floor just as silently
“Sadie.” Lyn’s quiet voice yanked me from whatever I was stuck in.
I looked up to find her standing next to my desk, studying me with concern. I tried to grin, but it came out more like a grimace. “Hey. How was your Christmas?”
“A lot better than yours, from what Anne tells me. What can I do?”
“Nothing. What’s done is done.” I flipped back to the armor I’d started on. “I need some opinions about this.”
“Of course.” Lyn crossed the room, rather than looking at my sketchpad, and picked up the crumpled page I’d tossed away. She smoothed it out against her leg, then looked at me. “This is gorgeous.”
I clenched my jaw and tried to collect my thoughts. “That’s not what I’m working on.” My voice cracked.
Lyn returned to crouch next to me, to look me in the eye even as I stared at the carpet. “Tell me,” she said.
Talking about that wouldn’t accomplish anything. I showed her the armor. “What do you think of this?”
She took my sketchpad from me, set it on the desk, and tugged me to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. Without my distraction in front of me, the rest of the day was free to rush back in.
“What if I never get to wear one?” The question tumbled out without my permission. “It’s a stupid question. It’s not like I won’t date other guys.” Except that the thought made my stomach churn. “And yeah, I can make one any time, but what if I never get to wear one for the intended purpose?” It was only one piece of my plan for the future, but it had been the impetuous for so much else, and with my plans crumbling around me...
“What are we assuming is the intended purpose?”
I looked at her skeptically.
Lyn gave me a tiny smile. “Humor me. Answer the question.”
“Getting married. Obviously being someone’s wife isn’t going to define me, but a girl has her dreams.”
“Getting married is a lot of things to a lot of different people. For instance, I don’t see you as being someone who will be happy purchasing a license, and then letting a justice of the peace process you in the next room over. Where the only thing that sayswe’re marriedis signing your name on a piece of paper.”
That sounded horrible. So bad, it almost made me smile. “No. That’s not me.”
