5

5

Mason's POV

I walked into Bethany's apartment , and of course, it was neat as it always was, and also nearly empty. I could tell that her mother was not here, probably gone back to her apartment. I walked straight to Bethany's studio which I was sure she was hunched up in. I opened the door and walked in. As expected, she was hunched over her worktable, a pencil tucked behind her ear, her sketchpad open to yet another one of her designs. The place smelled like coffee and faintly of glue.

She didn't look up when I closed the door. I doubted if she even knew that there was someone here with her.

"Hey," I called, dropping my keys on one of the tables. I bent a bit and kissed the side of her cheeks. She didn't even move.

"Hi," she murmured at last, though distractedly, her eyes fixed on the lines she was drawing. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pressed into a determined line.

I walked back till I was leaning against the doorframe, watching her. She was so deep into her work that I might as well have been invisible. It was impressive, in a way, how focused she could get. But at the same time, it was frustrating. I was here. She could at least say hello properly.

Finally, I cleared my throat and informed her. "I brought dinner."

That got her attention. She looked up, blinking like she'd just remembered I existed.

"Oh," she said, smiling faintly and dropping the pencil she was holding. "Thanks. I wasn't sure I'd have time to cook."

"You didn't," I said, holding up the takeout bags. "Figured you'd be glued to that thing all night."

She chuckled, pushing her chair back and stretching. "You know me too well. But, hey, don't call it 'that thing'. That's highly offensive."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used such offensive language," I answered, holding my hands up in surrender. She laughed and shook her head, crossing her legs as she watched me with those lovey dovey eyes I liked so much.

I set the food down on an empty table and started unpacking it. Bethany walked out of the studio and came back with plates from the kitchen, humming softly under her breath.

"So," I said as we sat down to eat, "how's the dress coming along?"

"It's almost done," she said, her face lighting up. "I'm just tweaking a few details. Kensington's team will be reviewing submissions next week."

"Kensington's team?" I repeated with a raised eyebrow. "What's that about?"

"Oh, isn't that what you're asking?" She asked as she dug into her dinner.

"I was asking about your wedding dress but obviously, you're taking about something else that you've yet to tell me," I replied her, cleaning my hand with a tissue and staring at her, waiting for an explanation.

She gave an awkward chuckle and said, "I really thought I told you I've been working on a dress that I can take for Submissions for the Kensington's team." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears and smiled at me shyly. "I'm really hoping they like it. I would finally be able to go professional and global."

"That's great," I said, taking a bite of my food. I was proud of her for taking such a big step.

"It's nerve-wracking," she admitted, laughing nervously and wringing her fingers the way she always did whenever she was nervous or anxious. "This could be huge for me. If they like my work…"

"They will," I interrupted, setting my fork down and giving her a small smile. "And even if they don't, there are other ways to get your foot in the door."

She frowned slightly, her brows creasing as she tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I know people, Bethany. Big names in the industry. I could make a few calls, get you a meeting. You wouldn't have to go through all this stress." I told her, even though she already knew that before. "In fact we can do that right now and you wouldn't have to go through the stress of Kensington."

Her smile faded into a look of disapproval, and she leaned back in her chair. "Mason, we have talked about this," she said, her voice reflecting the disapproval on her face.

"I know, but come on," I said with a soft laugh, leaning forward. Her eyes only narrowed even more.

I cleared my throat and tried to look even serious. "Why are you making this harder than it has to be? You've got talent, but connections are everything in this business. Let me help you."

"No," she said sharply, her eyes narrowing at me and I could see the hurt shining in them which only got me confuse. Why exactly was she hurt that I was offering to help her get to the top without any stress at all?

"No?" I asked, raising a brow as I crossed my arms. "No? Bath, seriously, you're saying no?"

"Yes," she replied flatly.

"This is me offering you a golden opportunity, and you're not even appreciative of it," I scoffed, shaking my head.

She shook her head, her jaw tightening. "Don't get me all wrong, Mason. I do appreciate it. I appreciate it, but I want to do this on my own. If I get the job because someone pulled strings for me, it won't mean anything."

"That's ridiculous," I said before I could stop myself.

"You may think that, Mason, but that's just the truth. They won't put much thought to me or my designs if someone helped me get the job," she insisted.

I scoffed again, shaking my head. "You think anyone in this industry makes it without help? It's all about who you know."

"I'm not saying it isn't," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I'm saying I want to prove myself. I need to know I earned it."

I sighed, shaking my head again, this time in frustration because I couldn't understand how she was just turning down an offer like this, an offer that most people in her position would jump at.

"Beth-" I began but she shook her head.

"No," she said and sighed. "I need you to understand me."

I stared at her, trying to wrap my head around her stubbornness. Here I was, offering her a golden ticket, and she was turning it down with that stubborn attitude of hers.

"Bethany," I murmured, my tone softening, "I'm just trying to support you."

"I know," she said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "And it means a lot. But this is something I have to do my way."

I forced a smile, nodding as if I understood. But I didn't. Not really. She smiled and changed the topic into another talk of wedding preparations, flower designs and cake tasting.

It didn't take long before we finished dinner and of course, she buried herself into work with the down while I lounged on the couch with my laptop. I still couldn't bring myself to believe that she had blatantly refused my help. It still felt surreal and to be honest? It felt very stupid.

Bethany was talented, no doubt about it. But talent wasn't enough. It was never enough. She needed to lean that the world didn't work that way. I'd learned that lesson the hard way in my own career. Connections, leverage, strategy, that's what got you ahead.

The fact that she couldn't see that, even while I was trying so hard to open her eyes to it, frustrated me.

I glanced over at her, watching as she meticulously sewed beads onto the fabric. She was so determined, so focused, it was almost admirable.

But it was also naïve.

I closed my laptop and stood, walking over to her.

"Hey," I said, leaning against the edge of her worktable.

She glanced up at me, her expression softening. "What's up?"

"I just… I don't want you to burn yourself out over this," I said.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling faintly. "I promise."

"You're more than fine," I said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "You're amazing. And I know you'll do great. I just… I hate seeing you stress."

Her smile widened, and she reached up to cup my cheek. "You're sweet. But I can handle it."

"I'm sure you will," I answered with a nod and leaned down to kiss her. She melted into the kiss, and for a moment, I forgot my frustration.

I pulled away and watched her return to her work while thinking of how she was making a very huge mistake.

If she failed—and there was a good chance she would—she'd have no one to blame but herself.

And that, I realized, might be the real reason she didn't want my help.

Bethany was determined to succeed on her own terms, even if it meant risking everything.

I just hoped she wouldn't regret it. With a sigh, I walked back to the e couch and continued my work.