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I nod, stupefied into staring at her.
She arches her brows. She’s not inviting me to talk much or acting welcoming. Still seated, she makes no move to greet me like she used to.
Which is no one’s fault but mine…
“How are you doing?” she asks neutrally.
“I’m fine.” Not fine. I can’t get you out of my mind. “I’m all right. You?”
I hate this stilted talk.
She shrugs again.
“What are you doing?” The question doesn’t satisfy my need to get close, but I blurt it out, interested in this mess and her creation.
“Framing the dress.” She states it simply, like it should be obvious.
It’s not obvious at all, not to me, but it’s incredible to witness her in her element, working so passionately. She’s open and comfortable, laid-back even. I want to ask more about her creative process, but I can tell how I threw her off, arriving unexpectedly like this.
“Well…” I lamely hold up the tape measure and sigh as I turn. “I’ll head out.” I do. I hurry to the door before she can say anything that would make this more awkward. It’s cowardly, running from her after giving in to the urge to see her, but I no longer have the time to dawdle and not make up my mind about her. I still can’t figure out what getting a glance of her could do other than ignite my need to see her more and more, but I shelve it. I set aside all thoughts of her and try my best to focus on the jobs today.
I find Dalton and Caleb inside the first cabin to be demoed, and I’m surprised. Dalt’s not a micromanager, and Caleb is usually busy on his property closer to the bed-and-breakfast. They’re not unwelcomed, though.
“You don’t mind if we stick around?” Dalton asks after I greet them.
I shake my head. “No.” It’s his place. His call, anyway.
“We’re in the mood to destroy some stuff.” He pulls his work gloves up his fingers and glowers at the old, wallpapered wall.
“Bad day?”
He rolls his eyes at me, nodding. “My aunt has been hounding me the last few days.”
I raise my brows. “Your aunt? As in…Claire’s mom?”
He nods again. “I, uh, I might have to go to New York with Claire next week.”
“So soon?” I ask, instantly hating the whininess in my voice. “Why does she need to go to New York? She said with all the samples she got in Denver, she’ll be super busy on Lauren’s dress. Is something wrong with her mom?” That would stink. I’d hate for Claire to be distracted from her first big job of her dream career with a family emergency.
“Plenty is wrong with that woman,” he mutters darkly. “My aunt is essentially trying to sell Claire off to a Rothschild. Some antiquated crap about the ‘old money’ marriages and needing to keep with the lines and all that.”
Sell Claire off? Like fricking chattel? I see red. Anger immediately sweeps through me. My muscles tense, and I grind my teeth together to ensure my mouth stays shut long enough for me to keep my cool.
Claire is going to New York to be sold to some rich punk over my dead body.
Chapter 20
Claire
I don’t have a lot of time to perfect Lauren’s dress. Since it’s my first “real” design, making it as close to what she envisions is critical. The pressure of the deadline looming closer and closer adds another layer of stress as well, but I’m glad for it.
Waking up every day with something to work toward is the drive I need to get through the first several days after the trip to Denver with Sawyer. It’s also the project I devote my brainpower to so I don’t dwell on how things went rotten with the man I can’t keep out of my thoughts. More than that, though, having Lauren’s dress to design grounds me from getting carried away with worry and anger about my mother.
Demanding me to come to New York. Like I’m a dog trained to heel and stay! I already vowed not to forgive her for contacting Owen and turning him against the idea of eloping with me. In hindsight, I realize that was a blessing in disguise. Having moved on to meet Sawyer and see how a real man makes love, I’m glad I evaded that marriage. I won’t hold a grudge against Owen. I wish him well. But I am happy I avoided a loveless and subpar marriage with a man who doesn’t challenge me at every turn and excite me during every minute of the day.
I deleted my mother’s email with the flight information, and if she dares to send it again, I won’t see it. I’m so fed up with her that I finally took the ultimate step of canceling her right out of my life. Her emails are on my spam list. Her calls are blocked from my cell. This complete and total act of ignoring her summons is the lifeline I’ve needed. Not dreading her calls or texts is a beautiful and freeing experience. Never seeing her email address in my inbox has me breathing easier.
Between the closure of communications with her and Lauren’s design, I’m seeing to my own happiness as well as I can. Sawyer is a whole other matter, but I refuse to let him dominate my mind now.
