Page 114 of Wallflower
“I almost can’t believe how much my life changed in just one summer,” I tell her. “All because of you. Not so long ago, nothing was more important to me than hockey. Nothing felt more urgent than ending my career on top. I never thought I could love anything the way I loved my career, and even though I told myself I didn’t care what people thought about me, I’ve spent too long trying to prove my worth to assholes who couldn’t give a shit about who I was and what I wanted. All I could think about was winning. All I wanted was to be the best.”
Her eyes are open and trusting as she stares up at me. “And now?”
My throat feels thick as I press her closer, spinning us around as I search for the right words. “Now, there’s nothing more important to me than you. Nothing has ever kept me up at night like the thought I might never hold you again. Nothing ever twisted me into knots like the possibility of you falling in love with somebody else.
“The only thing that kept me going was believing I’d finally done something that made me worthy of you. You are capable and talented, and you deserve the world. I want you to have it all, and I thought loving you was letting you go.”
“Chord.” She rests her head on my chest and breathes deeply. “I know we took a roundabout way to get here, but I’ve come to believe it had to happen like that. The lessons we learned made it all worth it in the end. How else would I have learned to listen to my heart over all the noise in my head, or that I have the power to choose what lights me up inside?
“Thank you for letting me figure this out for myself.” She runs the back of her fingers across my cheek, mirroring my own gesture of adoration. “And thank you for chasing me halfway across the world to tell me you love me and to bring me home.”
I slide my hand around her nape and pull her mouth against mine, claiming her with a kiss. It’s soft and lingering. It’s demanding and possessive. It’s more than a promise. It’s a vow.
And then I tilt her face up to mine, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “I’ll chase you anywhere and always, Violet, because it’s the only way I know to catch a dream. And you, my pretty wallflower, are my fucking dream come true.”
Epilogue: Violet
7 MONTHS LATER
I run my fingersover the delicate lace detail and fine beading of a simple but stunning ivory gown, and smile at the warm buzz of contentment I feel when I zip up the whiteViolet James Bridal Couturegarment bag. The dress is from my new made-to-measure bridal line—an exclusive selection of silhouettes that I custom fit for a more affordable way to wear a Violet James gown—and the dresses are especially close to my heart. My bespoke couture does exceptionally well but it’s hardly accessible for most people, and I decided early on that I didn’t want to run my business like that.
Claire accepts her dress with beaming gratitude, her cheeks flushed with excitement and nerves, and I pray that the thrill of giving a bride the dress of her dreams never, ever gets old.
“I can’t thank you enough, Violet,” she says as we move toward the front door of my San Francisco studio. “This dress blew all my expectations out of the water. It’s perfect.”
“You’re so welcome.”
Claire pauses to look around at the space, hesitating like she’s not quite ready to leave. “I can’t believe I won’t have a reasonto come back again. I was so nervous about finding a dress that would make me feel beautiful, but I loved every one of our appointments. You’ve created a warm, safe space here. So bright and colorful and full of joy. I hope you know that.”
I scan the room, taking the time to really look at what I’ve built over the last seven months. Pristine ivory wedding gowns displayed on simple white mannequins. Rows of dresses in a rainbow of colors for bridal parties and red carpets and galas, and special occasions. Tuxedos and well-cut suits. Private changing areas. Emerald-green velvet sofas around a coffee table with printed catalogs for consultations. Candles and rugs and soft music. Walls covered in photographs of celebrities and brides and everyday people wearing my designs. A client schedule that’s filled two years in advance.
Independence. Creativity. Satisfaction. Peace.
“It’s easy for me to forget how far I’ve come,” I reply with a warm smile. “Thank you for reminding me to appreciate it.” I give her a fast hug before opening the door, letting in a stir of early summer air and the sounds of end-of-day foot traffic on the busy street outside. “Now. Everything is ready to go for the weekend but promise me you’ll reach out if you have any worries before the big day. And please send me pictures! That’s my favorite part—seeing you and the dress the way it was intended to be worn.”
Claire runs a hand over the bag like she’s petting a cat, and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I’m gettingmarriedin aViolet James gown!”
I laugh as she slips through the door, then lock it behind her and rest my back against the wood with a sigh. It’s been a long day in the studio, and as rewarding as it is to finally be creating my own lines, I’ve got something more to look forward to this evening.
Chord’s been on a road trip all week, and he’s due home for a single night before we fly out late tomorrow afternoon for his last game of the playoffs. The Cup decider. He’s worked so hard to take the Fury to the top, and even though I’m a bundle of nerves for him, something tells me he’s going to get what he wants. He’s worked so hard for this. He deserves it. And he’s determined to have it.
I’m already living my dream, but my man isthis closeto getting his too.
I lock up the studio and order a rideshare to take me to our apartment, then let myself in with a drop of disappointment that the place is still dark inside. I’d hoped Chord would be home and our night could start as soon as I walked through the door, but when I check the time, I remember he’s not due in for another hour.
I slip off my shoes, throw my burnt-orange-colored blazer over the coat rack near the door, and move through the apartment, flicking on lights as I go.
I don’t think I’ve smiled as much in my life as I have since Chord and I moved into this place, and it’s no surprise that I find myself grinning again now. I adore our little home. The deco detailing. The timber floors. The fireplace and the bookshelves. The personal touches we’ve added together. The way Chord’s scent lingers in the air even when he’s away. The warmth.
As I move up the hallway, I brush my fingertips along the frame of the bright, beautiful abstract artwork we bought on our first date in Aster Springs, then enter our bedroom. It’s my favorite space—for obvious reasons—and I quickly wash my hands in the ensuite bath before passing by the kitchen on my way to my little studio nook in the living area. Nothing will make the next sixty minutes move faster than losing myself in my music and sketchbook.
But before I reach my cozy armchair in the corner, I spot a bright pink sticky note covered in Chord’s familiar scrawl stuck to the front of the fridge and stop dead in my tracks. My pulse races as I rush forward again and snatch it up.
Evening, Wallflower. Couple of things for your to-do list tonight.
1. Pack your bag for an overnighter.
2. Put on something warm and casual—and easy to remove.
