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I arrived back at my place later than normal. JoAnn showed me every inch of the warehouse and Carter followed, taking photos of me with all the completed gowns and helping the producers. My drawings were scattered on boards through the workshop and people would go and refer to them all the time. My small little ‘OF’ was in the corner in all the designs. The small issue they were having was just that—small. A simple change in the stitch fixed everything, and getting to step in behind that machine, watching my creation come to life was everything.
My mind was reeling, happiness bursting through every vein. This was real. This was happening. I was one hundred percent in my element.
I fell back onto my bed,mybed. I didn’t realize how much I missed my bed. I sighed and gave the ceiling a soft smile before pulling myself up, sitting on the edge. I had ignored my phone all afternoon, dinner and the workshop giving the perfect distraction, but I needed to text Madeline. She needed to know everything.
Unlocking my phone brought all sorts of notifications. Hundreds of them. I didn’t even know a phone could get that many notifications. A few texts from Madeline, showing me Depoe Bay and the hotel we would be getting ready at and a photo of the coast, a small Clay off in the distance but from her, that was it. The rest were from social media. The boutique Instagram feed had exploded, gaining new followers, and all the photos from today had already been posted. Starting with me at the restaurant, relieving the new logo and name of the boutique. That post had been pinned to the top, being followed by photos of me at the workshop, walking the rows and rows of gowns. Everything was just. . .
I sighed.
Magical.
And. . .
At the top of the list of likes. . .
Clayton Nolan liked your photo.
Every single one.
I closed the app, locked my screen, and hugged my phone to my chest. Closing my eyes, I felt yet again more tears form. I wished he was here with me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
-Clay-
My dad can’t sit near the stage. He may like Elliot, but if he sits there, he will moan and groan the entire time,” Milo said from the kitchen, pointing at the large piece of paper he and Madeline were hunched over. “He’ll want to sit with Holly.”
“The other option is at the table with Hannah and Donald. Does he get along with them enough to sit there?” Madeline asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.
I knew from Ophelia that Jamie had done the seating chart, which, let's be honest, once all the guests arrived and people began to mingle, that seating chart would be completely forgotten about. The summer weather coming to an end created the perfect setting for their outdoor reception, that is, if the coastal wind didn't pick up. The open tent would cause even more chaos to the seating chart that they were currently bickering over.
“He gets along with Hannah. It’s Donald that's the issue.”
“Well, they responded, and they are eating chicken.” Madeline argued. “Holly is sitting with them, so if Wallace wants to be near Holly, then he has to be at that table.” Madeline's finger hit the table with a thud.
“I’ll text him, but he won’t be happy about it.”
“He can hate me for it.”
“Impossible,” Milo mumbled, standing straight and pulling his phone from his pocket. “He loves you more than he loves me.”
Madeline chuckled, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. I shook my head, rolled my eyes at them, and returned to my phone. I was comfy on Madeline’s couch, facing them, my elbows on my knees and an uncompleted email on my phone screen.
I have decided not to move forward with an appeal against Jackson and Rye. Thank you for your advice. If I ever need legal help in the future. . .
I hopefully wouldn’t need legal help, but isn’t that the way you broke up with your lawyer? After the call from Mrs. Krass offering me a very cushy job, every piece of my future came together, and I had the best support system to get me there. All I needed to do was close this chapter of my life to move forward.
“He doesn't like that idea.” Milo's voice broke my concentration.
“Does it really matter?” I asked loud enough for them to look up.
Milo furrowed his brow, and Madeline’s jaw was slightly open.
“Would you want to sit next to your son’s ex?” Madeline folded her arms.
“If I had a son, and that son had an ex, I probably wouldn’t care,” I admitted. “Plus, you guys all get along with Hannah and Donald. I bet your dad would have respect for that.”
Milo pinched his brow, and Madeline raised a corner of her lip.
