Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I realized I don’t have the same drive to prove myself I had before. Remember how pissed I was at Cocci Borroni when I first came to you?”
“Of course I do. That fucker stole your designs and cashed in on them, Oz.”
Aiden’s belief in me warmed my heart. “Yeah, well, I was so angry, you know? I just wanted to prove to the world I wasn’t this bubble-headed pretty face, that there was more to me than a chiseled jaw or whatever. But now… now I kind of feel like I really just needed to prove it to myself. And I have.”
“So what are you saying? You don’t want to design your collection anymore?”
I shrugged. “No, it’s not that. I love designing, and I’m excited about this collection. But what I’m not sure about is whether or not I want to be the face of it.”
Aiden looked at me in surprise before his face softened in understanding. “You want to design, but you don’t care about creating a brand and getting the recognition from your designs.”
I shrugged. “I guess so. Is that possible?”
Aiden looked over at Ash. “Remember that woman we met at the firm holiday party? The one who came with the head of accounting?”
“Trina something or other?”
Aiden snapped his fingers and looked back at me. “Yes. Trina Tiller. She has contacts at Vogue and Neiman Marcus in the city. She’d be the perfect person to ask about this. Maybe I can set up a time for us to meet with her when you’re in town in a few weeks.”
Again with the twisted-gut feeling. “February. I’m not in town until then.”
Ash reached out and squeezed my arm. “Oz. Fashion Week is in five or six weeks.”
Without me realizing it, Fashion Week had become synonymous with doomsday, because that was when Jake was going to fuck on out of here as if none of this mattered. Not Haven, not his patients or co-workers at the clinic, not Xander and Bennett and Lucky.
Not me.
I excused myself and went and hid in the coat closet so I could feel sorry for myself in private.
After several minutes of trying to control my pathetic sniffles, Jake found me.
“Hey. What are you doing in–wait, are you crying?” He walked into the closet and closed the door behind himself before gathering me into his arms with a light chuckle. “Baby, what’s wrong? Weddings are supposed to be happy times. I hope these are happy tears?”
I let myself lean into him and inhaled his familiar woodsy scent while I reveled in the sensation of his strong arms around me and the muffled thump of his heart beating against mine through his dress shirt.
“That was pretty amazing about Lucky, huh?” I asked, without looking up at him. I wasn’t exactly lying. I had, after all, been touched by Xander’s gesture at the end of the ceremony. I had been overwhelmed by how lucky, well, Lucky was to have two such amazing men in his life who adored him unconditionally.
Jake’s voice rumbled through his chest. “Yes. Xander is a good man. They’re all so perfect for each other. Such a loving family, you know?”
I nodded against his shirt.
“Did you see Lolly take off her bra on the dance floor and fling it at the fireplace?”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh, which I’m sure had been his goal.
“No, what the hell? I didn’t even know she owned a bra,” I admitted.
“No kidding. None of us did. But it actually ignited the minute it hit the flames and… well, let’s just say, she no longer owns a bra.”
He looked down at me with a sweet smile and a small wink.
“Ozzie, will you come out and dance with me, sweetheart? I’ve been dying to get you on the dance floor all night.”
I spent the rest of the night in his arms, and when it was time for bed and I couldn’t sleep a wink, I got up and snuck into the main room of his cabin to complete his Christmas surprise. Zoey had helped me sneak all of the supplies over earlier in the day and hide them in the mudroom off the kitchen. I pulled them out and got to work decorating Jake’s cabin for Christmas and for the rest of his time in Haven.
There were blue and green throw pillows that I’d envisioned when I first saw his place and made in moments snatched here and there while he was running errands in town, simple gingham curtains to hang on pressure-mounted rods for the breakfast area windows and heavier navy velvet drapes for the living room side of the cabin, and thick green holly leaves to scatter across his mantel with fat ivory pillar candles to line up along its length. When I was finished, sprigs of red berries nestled among the leaves and a big round ball of mistletoe hung on a red ribbon over the front door. Finally, a small fir tree set on a side table next to the fireplace with white fairy lights on it and a foil star up top. A scrap of the red and green boucle formed a small tree skirt underneath where I had put a wrapped gift for him to be opened in the morning.