The Artist's Wife (BWWM)

Chapter 41~ To

Listen to 'Just Give Me A Reason' by P!nk ft. Nate Ruess❤❤❤❤❤.

Dedicated to ladykakul. ❤❤

She sat on her wooden throne, with slim and perfectly shapely legs crossed, a hand supporting her chin as she gazed serenely at the thousands of people staring at her from below. Her curly hair tumbled down her shoulders ending just above her cleavage.

And the most surprising part of this all was that she was me. The wooden me. JT had eventually finished the sculpture and today was the unveiling of the project at the national art festival holding here in New York.

A snap brought me back to reality as I heard yet another snap and raised a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding camera lights. The reporters had been bugging me all day for pictures and interviews because I was the muse of their blind artist. I had answered a few earlier but now they were just annoying.

"Mrs White, how do you feel about this whole project and what is your relationship with Mr Sykes?" A lady with a pink beret and cute, button nose shot at me.

"Can you describe how Mr Sykes works, we heard it's a quite complex process? It'll be lovely to hear from you."

Another snap and blinding light. They were all speaking so fast and I just stared at them helplessly, wishing I could be anywhere but here. If I was facing this, I could imagine how many times worse it would be for JT.

"Mr Sykes and your husband are very close associates, can you explain why he's absent? The festival lost quite a lot of money due to his absence." A timid looking reporter in thick-rimmed glasses shot out, mic outstretched.

"Are you still with your husband, ma'am?" Pink beret lady asked.

That hit a nerve.

I signalled one of the event coordinators and the small, scraggly haired man got the message immediately and hobbled on to my side to shoo away all the nosy reporters.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized looking down at his feet, unable to raise his eyes to meet mine. Such was the clout that came with the White name. "I can get one of the guards to accompany you and keep them away."

"That won't be necessary," I murmured, already walking away and straight into the inner building far away from the general public. Each stride sucking away my so-called confidence. Inside the grand ballroom were the elites, the actual rich ones separating themselves from people they saw as commoners.

I could spot JT atop a platform addressing another set of paparazzi, looking immaculately handsome in his neatly tailored brown suit with long, black hair brushed away from his face. He had on his shades but from the way his head turned in my direction when I walked in, I was willing to bet anything he knew exactly where I was.

I looked away from him, walked to the banquet table and grabbed a dish of butter danishes. Through the ceiling length mirror, I admired my reflection with my short, black, backless, skin-tight gown and silver heels. My hair had been stylishly straightened and pulled in a tight bun decorated with silver clips.

I was every inch as perfect as any ideal White bride was supposed to be, only that my groom was gone.