14. Georgia
Groaning for what feels like the eightieth time, I check my sketch—again. This single piece has taken me over three days to sketch and double the time to put together. First, my measurements were off, and now the material doesn’t look like the sketch.
Cursing when I prick my finger, I take a step away from the piece and frown.
“Maybe if I alter the right sleeve, I could manipulate the material to get it to work for me… Yeah, that’s perfect,” I say as I pace the expanse of the living room.
It’s been three days since I moved in with Derek.
Tonight, Deli has practice, but since Derek’s mom took her, she’s also bringing her back home.
I left Derek to his own vices in the kitchen earlier. It’s been two hours since we got back to his place, and I’ve been working on this piece ever since.
“Shit, I need this all done by the time the spring fashion show rolls around…” I curse under my breath, my legs moving on their own accord. Twelve of my designs from previous years will be featured in the show.
My problem? Getting this year's line together.
My goal is to make the clothes whimsical with pastel colors and tulle, but right now? My clothes look like a unicorn threw up a rainbow…
“Fuck, and then I need models…” I curse under my breath, chewing on my thumbnail as I look at my mannequin.
“Did you eat today?” Derek asks from the kitchen, his voice giving me a momentary pause before I look back down at all the work that I have cut out for me.
I’m going to get stress acne at this rate. You don’t want to know the monster that I turn into when I get that…
“Had a green smoothie earlier.”
My words hang in the air like dead weight, and the apartment goes still. Looking up from my work, I’m taken aback by the look on Derek’s face. It’s a mix between annoyance and… amusement?
“Sit and put the sketchbook down,” he says, his voice laced with command as I gape at him.
Who does he think he’s talking to?
“And if I don’t?” I sass back, popping my hip, putting my hand on it.
“I’ll make you, now sit. Your food is already on the table, eat, and then tell me why you’re pacing a hole into our living room floor.” He sighs, gesturing to the plate of steaming hot food on the kitchen island.
Rolling my eyes, I don’t know whether I should get him to make good on his threat or smile.
He called it our living room. I know you saw that!
Trotting over to the kitchen island, I take a seat behind the plate and look up at him, raising a brow.
“Everyone loves tomato soup and grilled cheese.” He shrugs.
“You want to hear about my problems?” I ask, ignoring his comment as he pauses.
“Of course I do.”
Sighing, I try to relax, but I can’t.
“Are you sure?” I question again, chewing my bottom lip as Derek tilts his head, pursing his lips.
Nodding, I begin, “I’m so fucking stressed, y’know… This day has been insane, from my dad calling me to ask why I’d gotten married—zero concern in sight, might I add. To this damn fashion show.”
Huffing, I pause. Standing from my seat at the kitchen island, I lock eyes with Derek. The warmth and comforting aura that he expels has me wanting to continue—to spill everything. But I can’t. It’s none of his concern anyway—
“Keep talking, Blondie. I’m listening to you.”
Those words.
Those seven words are all that I need. They’re all that I need to feel safe—all that I need to feel heard. They’re everything to me, but I can’t.
Derek is my friend—husband, but can I trust him with something like this?
I mean… I trusted him with everything else…
“My biggest dream has always been to open a fashion line. What if this is a sign that I’m not ready for it? My own idol didn’t want me…” the words tumble out of my mouth before I can think.
The air in the room is still, a calm before utter chaos as Derek’s deep brown eyes lock with mine from across the island. He sits there, nodding as if he’d come to a conclusion about me before standing. I watch, frozen in place, as he approaches me.
My body tenses, heart racing as his large frame towers over me. What the hell is happening? My mouth goes dry, lips parting slightly as he licks his own, an intense and steely look crossing his hard features.
In an instant, his hand is cupping my jaw and tilting my face up to lock eyes with him. My body is like jelly in his palms, my knees weakening as our eyes clash. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for anything—everything he could say, think, or do.
“I’ll only say this once, Georgia. Don’t ever doubt yourself—especially not in front of me.
You’re my wife, and because of that, you’re a part of me—you’re mine.
I don’t play nicely when people are mean to what’s mine, especially if it’s self-deprecating.
Understood?” he asks, eyes sweltering as he stares into my soul.
I nod, unable to move or shake this warmness growing all over me as my stomach clenches.
“Use your words, darlin’... Do you understand?” He cocks a brow at me.
The flood gates have opened, and I’m not talking about the ones upstairs…
“I understand,” I say, breathily.
Derek grins. “Good, now finish your food… There’s a new movie that I want to watch with you.”
Derek and I are practically social distancing.
What I’d thought was about to be a flirty little night of him and I holding hands in the popcorn bucket and sneaking flirty glances at one another, has turned into us watching a documentary about Formula One driver Ri Ri Waterhouse.
Personally, I love Ri Ri—can’t stand her new teammate, but this isn’t what I expected.
Derek sits on the opposite end of the couch, watching the movie with an intensity and ferocity that I’ve only seen come out when he’s on the ice.
Sighing, I take a bite out of my second strawberry cupcake of the night. Stress eating has never solved anything, especially for someone like me who gets bad hormonal acne when I’m stressed. But desperate times call for desperate damn measures.
“So are those your favorites? The strawberry cupcakes?” Derek asks, scaring the absolute shit out of me, resulting in me dropping my cupcake and Agnes licking it right up.
“Damn it…” I curse under my breath, picking up the happy puppy and placing her on the couch next to me.
She’d been my interim cuddle buddy all night, and this is how she repays me? By eating my cupcakes?
“Bad Aggy… You can’t eat real people food.” I lightly scold the happy dog as she pouts, nuzzling her snout in my lap.
Chuckling lightly, I pat her.
“You’re such a good baby, Aggy,” I coo, picking her up so she can rest her head on my shoulder, holding her like a baby.
“I can’t believe this is my life.” Derek laughs, startling me as I catch sight of his phone recording my interaction with the dog.
Flipping him off, I throw up my middle finger, chuckling, only for his laughter to die immediately.
“Shit…” he curses, running a hand through his hair.
I’m immediately on high alert as I watch the man. Derek stands from his spot on the couch, throwing off the cover and groaning as he stretches.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, standing as Agnes perks up in my arms.
Derek seems to weigh his options momentarily before deciding to spill and tell me what’s going on.
“My mom can’t pick up Deli from her dance lesson tonight.” He sighs, gathering our snacks, taking them to the kitchen as I follow behind, putting Agnes down before reaching the kitchen.
“Damn, is everything okay? I can stay here. I don’t want to intrude on daddy-daughter time. Deli probably misses you!” I say as Derek waves me off, making a “psh” noise.
“If anything, the little monster will be more excited to see you than me.” He chuckles, getting a tumbler from the kitchen cabinet and filling it with water before putting a lid on it and sliding it to me.
My stomach warms as I eye the water before taking it and drinking some.
“Really? For some reason, I doubt that…” I chuckle lightly, drinking the water only for the cup to be taken from my lips.
“What did I say earlier about jokes like that? You’re amazing, and Delilah enjoys having you around; now go throw on some clothes unless you want to walk in there wearing this,” he says, giving me an appreciative once-over as my heart triples in beat.
Did this man just… check me out? He’s making my pajama shorts and big T-shirt combo feel scandalous, oh my goodness.
Turning on my heels, I’m about to make my escape when Derek lightly taps me on the ass. The action is so subtle and yet completely unlike him.
I pause in my movements, back turned and cheeks reddening, before rushing to our room, the only sound to be heard being Derek’s quiet laugh.
When we get to the dance studio where Delilah’s dance class is held, the first thing to come out of my mouth is, “Damn.”
This place reminds me of that one dance studio from that reality show ten years ago, only the studio is way nicer, the kids are less worked, and the instructors are nice people.
Sienna was Delilah’s dance teacher until Jace bought the dance studio back in August. Now, Sienna teaches one-on-one classes with students, Jace, and a small class for her previous dancers.
Today, Deli has class with Sienna.
From the small window in the hall, Derek, the rest of the dance moms, and I watch as the girls follow in Sienna’s footsteps, mimicking her choreography.
The group of young girls finishes off their practice with a small stretch and a group hug before Sienna dismisses them to their families.
Delilah is one of the first girls out.
I watch, bracing myself for her to ignore me, because why wouldn’t she?
When Delilah steps out of the room, her eyes widen. She drops her large dance bag from her shoulder and races toward us.
I feel inclined to pull out my phone and record the moment that she jumps into Derek's arms when a tiny body collides with my legs, catching me off guard. She wraps her entire body around my legs as she squeals. My eyes widen, I’m frozen, not sure if I should be surprised, happy, or both as she yells my name like a cry of war.
“?Ay, Dios mio,1 Deli! Give her a little space…” Derek barks a laugh as Delilah squeezes my legs tighter.
“Pero Papá2—”
Derek shoots Delilah a look that could cut steel. She lets me go in an instant and hangs her head with a pout.
Frowning, I pick her up.
“Ignore that grump, Sunshine… I have a surprise for us later—I got us cupcakes,” I whisper in her ear, causing her to giggle as she tilts her head into my neck.
Delilah turns to face me, cupping her hand to my ear before she whispers, “Papá doesn’t like for me to eat sweets.”
What's the harm in a cupcake every now and then? Derek is such a stickler sometimes…
I frown before quickly smiling.
“It’ll be our little secret.”
1 ?Aye, Dios Mio- Oh my God
2 Pero Papá- But Dad