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Madeline: I have a feeling it will turn into an overnight thing. You two have a lot of time to make up.
I rolled my eyes, responding:That’s not going to happen anytime soon. I just want to take him on a date and enjoy some alone time with him. Next Saturday? Just plan on a late night with Milo?
Madeline:100%. I’ll need all the details when I get back.
Ophelia: Of course.
Satisfied and less a nervous wreck than I was fifteen minutes ago, I slammed my laptop closed and looked up at Clay, lacing my fingers together to rest my chin on them. He stopped what he was doing and mimicked my pose.
“Wanna go grab some lunch?”
“Let me finish this email to my lawyer, and I’d love to.”
I was tempted, so very tempted, to lean over the table to give him a kiss. But I refrained. I pushed myself off the desk and went to gather my things. A few Instagram messages answered, an annoyed Carter, and a date in my future. I felt good, almost on top of the world good. I could probably jump off another bridge good.
Hours after Clay had left, I stood in my empty studio. Just me, my glass of wine, and music serenading me in the background. The blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows were open, the Portland city lights flickering in the background. I raised the desk as much as I could and angled it so I could stand and sketch, bringing more wedding gowns to life.
For a brief moment, it felt like home.
I gripped my pencil, the blank sheet of cream paper in front of me, but suddenly, something else called me.
I turned to the trunk that held all my fabrics. Every piece of cream, ivory, and white was gently placed in the trunk that came all the way from home, and underneath the pieces, was the dress.Thedress that landed me JoAnn as a client. The showstopper that earned audible gasps from the audience last summer here in Portland. The dress that Madeline was going to wear during this party.
I pulled it from the garment bag and pulled it over the mannequin. I had Madeleine’s exact measurements, and all I needed to do was take off a bit to get it to fit her perfectly. The deep purple seemed darker in the mood lighting in the studio, but the soft light that surrounded me made the crystals sparkle. This dress was simple, this dress was stunning, this dress defined who I was as a designer, and I was proud to call it mine.
The tighter bust would accentuate her every curve dipping down to the lower neckline, giving Milo enough room for imagination. The crystals that circled her waist would give it enough flare, but not enough to take the eye away from the woman wearing it, and the knee-length slit up the floor-length skirt made it just sexy enough. This dress was going to make Madeline shine brighter than her wedding gown, and I could not wait to get her in it.
Once it was in place, and a few pins were ready to go, I lifted my camera and took a photo, the soft light hitting it just right. My first thought was to send it to Maddy, let her know what she would be trying on, but instead, my fingers found Clay’s name. I sent the photo with no captain.
Clay: That’s beautiful. Your design?
Ophelia: For Madeline to wear at the party. Do you think she’ll like it?
Clay: I think she’ll love it. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.
I locked my phone, not returning his message, and held it close to my chest. I didn’t plan on this. I came to Portland with the hopes of staying locked in a room, getting dresses ready and creating designs for my next line. Instead, I was here, in an amazing studio being rented out by an investor, mannequins surrounding me with gowns and a view to die for. With every design having been accepted and the manufacturing of the gowns in various sizes beginning, everything I wasn’t expecting was coming to life.
A store front, wedding gowns, and a little flutter in my heart.
I knew something amazing was going to happen when I signed that contract with JoAnn months ago, but I never expected this.
And I didn’t plan on Clay.
I didn’t plan on having these feelings return for a man I thought I wanted nothing to do with ever again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
-Clay-
“O
kay, I have a question for you,” Elliot said as he and I walked around the Piano Bar’s venue. Ophelia was mapping out where tables would go, and Elliot was standing right where he said the makeshift stage would go. I shoved my hands in my jeans pocket and looked up at him, ready for his question. “What do you think of Jamie?”
My face instantly warped into confusion. I raised an eyebrow and stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Jamie, that girl from the Piano Bar, the one you danced with?” he asked.
“I, um. . .” I mumbled, “that wasweeksago.”
