Clara hoots with laughter. “See? I told you! The kilt is a classic!”
I watch Snow, amazed. She’s joking about my modeling work. She’s looking at photos of me in costume with other models, and she’s choosing to see them as silly, separate from who I really am.
“The kilt was extremely uncomfortable,” I inform them. “And very drafty.”
“TMI, Ford,” Derek says, and everyone laughs.
After dinner, as we’re clearing plates, the conversation turns to more serious things. Snow, visibly more relaxed now, starts talking about her consulting company. Her passion is infectious.
The others listen, impressed. I see Derek and Jade exchange a small, knowing smile.
“You two are going to do amazing things,” Clara says, taking a sip of her wine.
Eventually, people start to leave. Clara gives Snow another fierce hug. “You’re good people,” she tells her. “And if you ever want to hear more embarrassing stories about Wyatt from his early modeling days, I have an entire collection.”
“I might take you up on that,” Snow says, and it sounds like she means it.
Jade hangs back for a moment as Clara heads to the door. She looks at Snow, her expression sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It wasn’t,” Snow admits. “But I’m glad I did. Clara is a hoot, and you’re an amazing woman too.”
After everyone is gone and the door closes behind them, Snow leans against it, letting out a long, shaky breath. Her hands are trembling.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her carefully.
“That was…” She pauses, searching for words. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “That was really hard.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” She pushes off the door and comes to me. “I’m glad we did it. I needed to see that Jade is just a person. That Clara adores her. That the whole thing really was just a stupid setup.” She takes my hands, and I can feel them shaking. “I needed to replace those poisoned images with something real.”
“You were so brave tonight,” I tell her.
“I was terrified,” she admits with a shaky laugh. “When she first walked in, all I could see were those photos. Everything came rushing back, and I almost ran. I had my hand on the counter and I was thinking about how quickly I could get to the door.”
“What stopped you?”
“Clara.” Snow smiles. “She hugged me like we were old friends. And then Jade apologized. Everything seemed so normal.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her forehead resting against my chest, her breathing starting to slow. Then she whispers, “I’m starting to believe this is real. It’s scary, but… I’m starting to believe it.”
I hold her tighter, my own relief washing over me. “It is real. This — us — it’s the most real thing in my life.”
She tilts her head up to look at me, and her eyes are still shining, but there’s something else there now. Not just fear. Not just caution. Hope.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For understanding that I needed to do this. For not trying to protect me from it.” She reaches up and kisses me, soft and tender and full of promise. When she pulls back, she’s smiling — a real smile, the kind that lights up her whole face.
Chapter 25
Wyatt
I’m standing in the Huntington Arts Center, adjusting my tie for the third time. Tonight is my first showing as the featured artist and, despite the calm I’m trying to project, my palms are sweating. Three weeks ago, I watched Snow charm a room full of business owners at that networking event. Tonight, it’s my turn to be vulnerable in front of a crowd.
The gallery is packed, buzzing with the kind of refined energy that comes with an opening reception for a new photography exhibition. As I look around at my work hanging on these walls — a dozen pieces that represent who I really am — the nerves settle. This is where I belong. This is who I am.
“Wyatt, darling!” Delilah Drake materializes beside me in a cloud of expensive perfume and dramatic black silk. The romance author who orchestrated my nightmare in St. Lucia looks every inch the successful novelist, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, her smile warm and perfectly calculated. She’s here with her husband, a local art collector I recognize from other exhibitions. “What a wonderful surprise! I heard through thegrapevine that you’re exploring photography. How marvelous to see you pursuing creative hobbies!”
The way she says “hobbies” — with such enthusiastic condescension — makes my jaw tighten.
