The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 12

The Belated Bride: Becoming My Own Muse Chapter 12

My hand paused.

Three years ago.

Back then, I didn’t know Christian.

Or rather, back then, I had just met Christian.

But Grant and I had crossed paths much earlier.

At the Parsons School of Design graduation show. I’d scored the highest marks in the entire class but almost got cut because I couldn’t afford to produce the ready-to-wear samples.

An anonymous buyer purchased my entire design portfolio and left a single note with it: Don’t let a lack of money destroy your hands.

I found out later that the buyer was Grant Ashford.

But by the time I wanted to thank him in person, he’d already gone back to London to take over the family business.

The next time we met was six months ago.

My second year running the studio. I received the invitation from Ashford Group for their Bridal Design Week.

Grant was sitting in the conference room. He recognized me instantly.

He said, “Claire. Welcome. Glad to finally see you standing at your own table.”

I smiled, very politely, that day.

He said, “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know me. I’m that sucker who bought your work back then.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed too.

“Mr. Ashford. Are you looking to be a sucker again this time?”

“I am.”

“What do you want to buy?”

He looked at me.

“I want to buy your freedom from ever having to bow your head for someone else again.”

I had taken it as a joke at the time.

Now, looking back, some people see you when you’re in the mud and pull you out. Others see you standing on your own two feet and assume it’s only natural.

The difference between the two is vast.

At three in the morning, Christian showed up at the studio.

Tara ran in from the front and said, her voice hushed, “Claire, Mr. Van Ness is downstairs. He says if he can’t see you, he’s not leaving.”

I still had the needle in my hand.

“Let him wait.”

Grant looked up. “Do you need me to step away?”

“No.”

I sewed the last bead into place.

“He likes making people wait. It’s about time he learned what it feels like from the other side.”

Christian waited downstairs until dawn.

At seven in the morning, I went down to get coffee.

He was standing by his car. His eyes were bloodshot, and his shirt was wrinkled.

The second he saw me, he walked straight over.