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‘You need to eat to keep your strength up, and you can’t live off sandwiches for the next week,’ he told her, ‘or you’ll make yourself ill.’
‘I guess.’ She blinked as she took in the fact that her kitchen was actually being used and something smelled gorgeous. ‘Hang on, dinner isn’t a takeaway.’
‘It’s nothing fancy, either,’ Sean said dryly, ‘but it’s home-cooked from scratch and there are proper vegetables.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘And at least you have gadgets that help.’
‘My electric steamer. Best gadget ever.’ She smiled back and stroked his face. ‘Sean, thank you. It’s really good of you to do this for me.’
‘Any time, and you know you’d do the same if I was the one up to my eyes in preparation for a big event, so it’s not a big deal.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘Sit down, milady, because dinner will be served in about thirty seconds.’
But when he’d dished up and they were eating, he noticed that she was pushing her food around her plate. ‘Is my cooking that terrible? You don’t have to be polite with me—leave it if you hate it.’
‘It’s wonderful. I’m just tired.’ She made an effort to eat.
He tried to distract her a little. ‘So do you have a dream of a dress?’
‘Not really,’ she said.
‘So all these years when you’ve sketched wedding dresses, you never once drew the one you wanted for yourself?’
‘I guess it would depend when and where I got married—if it was on a beach in the Seychelles I wouldn’t pick the same dress, veil or shoes as I’d pick for a tiny country church in the middle of winter in, say, the far north of Scotland.’
‘I guess,’ he said. ‘So which kind of wedding would you prefer?’
‘It’s all academic,’ she said.
He could guess why she wasn’t answering him—she was obviously worried he’d think she was hinting and had expectations where he was concerned.
‘Is that why the outfits in your wedding collection are so diverse?’
‘Yes—four seasonal weddings, one vintage-inspired outfit, and one that’s more tailored towards a civil wedding,’ she explained.
‘That’s a good range,’ he said. ‘It will show people what you can do.’
‘I hope so.’ For a second she looked really worried and vulnerable.
‘Claire, you know your stuff, you’re good at what you do and your work is really going to shine at the show.’ He reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘I believe in you.’
‘Thank you, though I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’
‘I know you weren’t, and I was being sincere.’
‘Sorry.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ignore me. It’s just a bit of stage fright, or whatever the catwalk equivalent is.’
‘Which is totally understandable, given that it’s your first show.’ He cleared their plates away. ‘Let me get you some coffee.’
She gave him a tired smile. ‘Sorry, I’m really not pulling my weight in this relationship right now.’
‘Claire, you’re so busy you barely have time to breathe. I’m not going to give you a hard time about that; I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders,’ he said.
‘Then thank you. Coffee would be lovely.’
He made two mugs of coffee and set them on the table. ‘This is decaf,’ he said, ‘because I think you’re already going to have enough trouble getting to sleep and the last thing you need is caffeine.’
‘I guess.’
And he hoped that what he was about to do would distract her enough to let her fall asleep in his arms tonight and stop worrying quite so much about the wedding show.
He rescued the box he’d stowed in her fridge earlier—a box containing a very important message. He checked behind the door that he hadn’t accidentally disturbed the contents of the box and mixed up the order of the lettered chocolates, then brought them out and placed the box on the table in front of her.
She gave him a tired smile. ‘Would these be some of your awesome salted caramels? Or are you trying out new stuff on me as your personal focus group?’
‘Open the box and see,’ he invited.
She did so, and her eyes widened as she read the message. When she looked back at him, he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘Sean.’
‘Hey. They say you should say it with flowers, but I know you like to be different, so I thought I’d say it in chocolate.’ He’d iced the letters himself. I love you Claire. He paused. ‘Or maybe I just need to say it.’ He swallowed hard. Funny how his throat felt as if it were filled with sand. ‘I’ve never said this to anyone before. I love you, Claire. I think I probably have for years, but the idea of letting anyone close scared me spitless. You know you asked me what scared me? That. Deep down guess I was worried that I’d end up losing my partner like I lost my parents, so it was easier to keep you at a distance.’
‘So what changed?’ she asked.
‘Capri,’ he said. ‘Seeing the way you just got on with things and sorted out the problems when Ashleigh’s dress went missing. And then dancing with you. I really couldn’t take my eyes off you—it wasn’t just the song. I tried to tell myself that it was just physical attraction, but it’s more than that. So very much more.’
‘Oh, Sean.’ She blinked back the tears.
And now he just couldn’t shut up. ‘And in these last few weeks, getting to know you, I’ve seen you for who you really are. You’re funny and you’re brave and you’re bossy, and you think outside the box, and—you know your speed dating question thing, about what you’re looking for in a partner? I can answer that, now. I’m looking for you, Claire. You’re everything I want.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Though my timing’s a bit rubbish, given that you’re up to your eyes right now.’
‘Your timing’s perfect,’ she said softly. ‘You know, I had a huge crush on you when I was fourteen, but you were my best friend’s older brother, which made you off limits. And you always made me feel as if I was a nuisance.’
‘You probably were, when you were a teenager.’
She laughed. ‘Tell it to me straight, why don’t you?’
He laughed back. ‘You wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know it—I love you, Claire.’
‘I love you, too, Sean.’ She pushed her chair back, came round to his side of the table, wrapped her arms round him and kissed him. ‘Over the last few weeks I’ve got to know you and you’re not quite who I thought you were, either. You’re this human dynamo but you also think on your feet. You’re not regimented and rule-bound.’
‘No?’
‘Well, maybe just a little bit—and you do look good in a suit.’ She smiled at him. ‘Though how I really like you dressed is in faded jeans, and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It makes you much more touchable.’
‘Noted,’ he said.
He could see that she was so tired, she didn’t even have the energy to drink her coffee. So he carried her to bed, cherished her, and let her fall asleep in his arms. He wasn’t ready to sleep yet; it was good just to lie in the dark with her in his arms, thinking. How amazing it was that she felt the same way about him. So maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ON THE MORNING of the wedding show, Claire was up before six, bustling around and double-checking things on her list.
Then her mobile phone rang. Sean couldn’t tell much from Claire’s end of the conversation, but her face had turned white and there was a tiny pleat above her nose that told him something was definitely wrong.
When she ended the call, she blew out a breath. ‘Sorry, I’m going to have to neglect you and make a ton of phone calls now.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘That was the modelling agency.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It seems that the six male models that I booked through the agency are all really good friends. They went out together for a meal last night, and they’ve all gone down with food poisoning so they can’t do the show.’
‘So the agency’s going to send you someone else?’
She shook her head. ‘All their models are either already booked out or away. So they’re very sorry to let me down, but it’s due to circumstances beyond their control and they’re sure I’ll understand, and of course they’ll return my fee.’
The sing-song, patronising tone in which she replayed the conversation told Sean just how angry Claire was—and he wasn’t surprised. She’d been very badly let down.
‘I’ll just have to go through my diary and beg a few favours, and hope that I can find six men willing to stand in for the models.’ She raked a hand through her hair. ‘And I need to look at my list and see where I can cut a few corners, because I’ll have to alter their clothes to fit the stand-ins, and...’ She shook her head, looking utterly miserable.
He put his arms round her and hugged her. ‘You need five. I’ll do it.’
She stared at him as if the words hadn’t quite sunk in. ‘You’ll do it?’
‘Well, obviously I don’t know the first thing about a catwalk,’ he said, ‘so someone’s going to have to teach me how to do the model walk thing. But everyone’s going to be looking at the clothes and not the model in any case, so I guess that probably doesn’t matter too much.’
‘You’ll do it,’ she repeated, sounding disbelieving.
‘Is it that much of a stretch to see me as a model?’ he asked wryly.
‘No, it’s not that at all. You’d be fabulous. It’s just that—it’s a pretty public thing, standing on a catwalk at a wedding show with everyone staring at you, and it’s so far from what you normally do that I thought you’d find it too embarrassing or awkward or...’ She tailed off. ‘Oh, my God, Sean. You’d really do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly.
‘Thank you.’ She hugged him fiercely. ‘That means I only have to find five.’
‘You’ve already got enough to do. I’ll find them for you,’ he said. ‘I reckon we can count on Luke and Tom, and I have a few others in mind. Just tell me the rough heights and sizes you need, and I’ll ring round and sort it out.’
‘Your height and build would be perfect, but I can adjust things if I need to—the men’s outfits are easier to adjust than the women’s, so I guess I’m lucky that it was the male models and not the female ones or the children who had to bail out on me. Sean, are you really sure about this?’
‘Really,’ he confirmed. ‘I’m on Team Claire, remember? Now go hit that shower, I’ll have coffee ready by the time you’re out, and I’ll start ringing round.’
She hugged him. ‘Have I told you how wonderful you are? Five minutes ago it felt as if the world had ended, and now...’
‘Hey—you’d do the same for me,’ he pointed out.
Half an hour later, Sean had it all arranged. Luke and Tom agreed immediately to stand in, plus Tom’s partner. Sean called in his best friend and his sales manager from the factory, and they all agreed to meet him and Claire at the wedding show two hours before it started, so Claire could do any last-minute necessary alterations to their outfits. Then he made Claire sit down and eat breakfast, before helping her to load everything into the van she’d hired for the day.
‘Sure we’ve got all the wedding dresses?’ he asked before he closed the van doors. ‘Though I guess we’re going to Earl’s Court rather than Capri, so we should be OK.’
‘Not funny, Sean.’ She narrowed her eyes at him.
He kissed her lightly. ‘That was misplaced humour and I apologise. It’s all going to be fine, Claire. Just breathe and check your list.’
‘Sorry, I’m being unfair and overly grouchy. Ignore me.’ She looked over her list. ‘Everything’s ticked off and loaded, so we’re ready to roll.’
‘At least we’ve got the bumps out of the way this side of the catwalk. It’s all going to be fine now.’ He kissed her again. ‘By the way, I meant to tell you, I’ve got some extra giveaways for you. Will from the office is bringing them to the show.’
‘Giveaways?’ Her eyes went wide. ‘Oh, no. I completely forgot about giveaways. I meant to order some pens. I’ve been so focused on the outfits that it totally slipped my mind.’
‘You have business cards?’
‘Yes.’
‘Grab them,’ he said, ‘and we’ll get a production line stuffing them at the show.’
‘Stuffing what?’ She looked at him blankly.
‘My genius girlfriend talked about wedding favours. I had some samples run up, with white organza bags and gold foil on the caramel hearts. The bag is just the right size to put your business card in as well—and don’t worry about the pens. Everyone will remember the chocolate.’
‘Sean, that’s above and beyond.’
‘No, it’s supporting you,’ he corrected, ‘and it also works as a test run for me, so we both win. Let’s get this show on the road.’
At the wedding show, people were busy setting up exhibition stands and the place was bustling. Claire was busy measuring her new male models and doing alterations; then, when the female models arrived, she filled them in on the situation and got them to teach the men how to walk. Her stand was set up with showbooks of her designs, and her part-time shop assistant Iona was there to field enquiries and take contact details of people who were interested in having a consultation about a wedding dress. Will had brought the organza bags and chocolates with him, so Sean had a production line of people stuffing bags with the chocolates and Claire’s business card. He knew how much was riding on this.
And it also worried him. Claire had already had to deal with extra problems that weren’t of her making today. If this didn’t go to plan, all her hard work would have been for nothing.
What he wanted to do was to make sure that the people she wanted to see her collection actually saw it. She’d already mentioned the names of some of the fashion houses who were going to be there. A little networking might just give them the push they needed to make sure they saw Claire’s work.
While Claire was making last-minute fixes to the dresses, Sean slipped away quietly to find the movers and shakers of her world. Claire had just about finished by the time he returned.
‘Everything OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him. ‘You’re amazing and I love you. Now go strut your stuff.’
The dresses all looked breathtaking. He knew how much work had gone into them, along with Claire’s heart and soul. Please let the reviewers be kind rather than snarky, he begged silently. Please let her get the kudos she deserved. Please let the fashion houses keep their word and come to see her. Please let them give her a chance.
* * *
Claire’s hands were shaking visibly. Ashleigh was sitting next to her; she took Claire’s hands and held them tightly. ‘Breathe. It’s going to be just fine.’
‘They all look amazing,’ Claire’s grandmother added.
‘You’re going to wow the lot of them,’ Aunt Lou said, reaching over to pat her shoulder.
Only Jacob was silent, but Claire hadn’t really expected anything from her dad; she knew that fashion shows weren’t his thing. The fact that he’d actually turned up meant that he was on her side for once—didn’t it?
But finally the catwalk segment of the show began. Her collection was on first. The models came down the catwalk, one group at a time: the bride, groom and bridesmaids. Autumn. Winter. Spring. Summer. Sean, looking incredibly gorgeous in morning dress and a top hat with his vintage-inspired bride beside him; her heart skipped a beat when he caught her eye and smiled at her. The contemporary civil wedding.
And then finally, the whole collection of six stood on the stage in a tableau. Claire became aware of music, lights—and was that applause?
‘You did it, love,’ her grandmother said and hugged her. ‘Listen to everyone clapping. They think you’re as fantastic as we do.’
‘We did it.’ Claire was shaking with a mixture of relief and adrenaline. She swallowed hard. ‘I need to get back to my stand.’
‘Iona can cope for another five minutes,’ Aunt Lou said with a smile. ‘Just enjoy this bit.’
A woman came over to join them. ‘Claire Stewart?’ she asked.
Claire looked up. ‘Yes.’
‘Pia Verdi,’ the woman introduced herself, and handed over her business card.
Claire’s eyes widened as she took in the name of one of the biggest wedding dress manufacturers in the country.
‘I like what I’ve just seen up there, and I’d like to talk to you about designing a collection for us,’ Pia said. ‘Obviously you won’t have your diary on you now, but call my PA on Monday morning and we’ll set up a meeting.’
‘Thank you—I’d really like that,’ Claire said.
The one thing she’d been secretly hoping for—her chance in the big league. To design a collection that would be sold internationally and would have her name on it.
She just about managed to keep it together until Sean—who’d clearly changed out of his wedding outfit at top speed—came out. He picked her up and spun her round, and she laughed.
‘We did it, Sean.’
‘Not me. You’re the one who designed those amazing outfits.’
‘But you supported me when I needed it. Thank you so, so much.’ She handed him the business card and grinned her head off. ‘Look who wants to talk to me next week!’
‘They’re offering you a job?’ he asked.
‘Better than that—they’re asking me to talk to them about designing a collection. So I’ll get my name out there, but I still get to do my brides and design one-offs as well. It’s the icing on the cake. Everything I wanted. I’m so happy.’
‘That’s brilliant news.’ He hugged her. ‘I’m so proud of you, Claire. You deserve this.’
‘Thanks.’ She beamed at him. ‘Though I’d better come down off cloud nine and get back to the stand. It’s not fair to leave Iona on her own.’
‘I’m so glad Pia Verdi came to see you,’ he said.
She frowned as his words sank in. ‘Hang on. Are you telling me you know her?’
‘Um, not exactly.’
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. ‘Sean?’
He blew out a breath. ‘I just networked a bit while you were sorting stuff out, that’s all.’
Claire went cold. ‘You networked?’
‘I just told her that your collection was brilliant and she needed to see it.’
Bile rose in Claire’s throat as she realised what had actually happened. So much for thinking that she’d got this on her own merit. That her designs had been good enough to attract the attention of one of the biggest fashion houses.
Because Sean had intervened.
Without him talking to her, Pia Verdi probably wouldn’t even have bothered coming to see Claire’s collection.
And, although part of Claire knew that he’d done something really nice for her, part of her was horrified. Because what this really meant was that Sean was as overprotective as her father. Whatever Sean had said, he didn’t really believe in her: he didn’t think that she could make it on her own, and he thought she’d always need a bit of a helping hand. To be looked after.
Stifled.
So what she’d thought was her triumph had turned out to be nothing of the kind.
‘You spoke to Pia Verdi,’ she repeated. ‘You told her to come and see my collection.’
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Claire, it was just a little bit of networking, that’s all. You would’ve done the same for me.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t have thought that I needed to interfere. Because I know you can do things on your own. I know that you’ll succeed without having someone to push you and support you. And you...’ She blew out a breath. ‘You just have to be in control. All the time. That’s not what I want.’
‘Claire, I—’
‘No,’ she cut in. ‘No. I think you’ve just clarified something for me. Something important. I can’t do this, Sean. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t consult me and who always plays things by the book—his book.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I know you meant well, but...this isn’t what I want.’ She took a deep breath. There was no going back now. ‘It’s over.’
‘Claire—’
She took a backward step, avoiding his outstretched hand. ‘No. Goodbye, Sean.’
She walked away with her head held high. And all the time she was thinking, just how could today have turned from so spectacularly wonderful to so spectacularly terrible? How could it all have gone so wrong?
Even though her heart was breaking, she smiled and smiled at everyone who came to her exhibition stand. She talked about dresses and took notes. She refused help from everyone to pack things away at the end of the show and did it all herself; by then, her anger had burned out to leave nothing but sadness. Sean had taken her at her word and left, which was probably for the best; but her stupid heart still wished that he were there with her.
Well, too late. It was over—and they were too different for it to have worked out long term. So this summer had just been a fling. One day she’d be able to look back on it and remember the good times, but all she could think of now was the bitterness of her disappointment and how she wished he’d been the man she thought he was.
* * *
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sean hated himself for the way the light had gone from Claire’s eyes. Because he’d been the one to cause it. He’d burst her bubble big-time—ruined the exuberance she’d felt at her well-deserved success. He’d meant well—he’d talked to Pia Verdi and the others with the best possible intentions—but now he could see that he’d done completely the wrong thing. He’d taken it all away from Claire, and he’d made her feel as if the bottom had dropped out of her world.
It felt as if the bottom had fallen out of his world, too. He’d lost something so precious. He knew it was all his own fault; and he really wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to fix this.
He definitely couldn’t fix it today; he knew he needed to give her time to cool down. But tomorrow he’d call her. Apologise. Really lay his heart on the line—and hope that she’d forgive him and give him a second chance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT SHOULD HAVE been a night of celebration.
Not wanting to jinx things before the wedding show, Claire hadn’t booked a table at a restaurant in advance; though she’d planned to take her family, Sean, Ashleigh and Luke out to dinner that evening, to thank them for all the support they’d given her in the run-up to the show.
But now the food would just taste like ashes; and she didn’t want her misery to infect anyone else. So she smiled and smiled and lied her face off to her family and her best friend, pretending that her heart wasn’t breaking at all. ‘I’m fine. Anyway, I need to get the van back to the hire company, and start sorting out all these enquiries...’
Finally she persuaded them all to stop worrying about her, and left in the van on her own. But, by the time she’d dropped all the outfits back at her shop, delivered the van back to the hirer and caught the tube back to her flat, she felt drained and empty. Dinner was a glass of milk—which was just about all she could face—and she lay alone in her bed, dry-eyed and too miserable to sleep and wishing that things were different.
Had she been unfair to Sean?
Or were her fears—that he’d be overprotective and stifling in the future, and they’d be utterly miserable together—justified?
* * *
Claire still hadn’t worked it out by the time she got up at six, the next morning. It was ridiculously early for a Sunday, but there was no point in just lying there and brooding. Though she felt like death warmed up after yet another night of not sleeping properly, and it took three cups of coffee with extra sugar before she could function enough to take a shower and wash her hair.
Work seemed to be about the best answer. If she concentrated on sketching a new design, she wouldn’t have room in the front of her head to think about what had happened with Sean. And maybe the back of her head would come up with some answers.
She hoped.
She was sketching in her living room when her doorbell rang.
Odd. She wasn’t expecting anyone to call. And she hadn’t replied to any of the messages on her phone yet, so as far as everyone else was concerned she was probably still asleep, exhausted after the wedding show.