They do have a hard time with understanding that when I do a commission piece, I frequently have to get up close and personal with other people’s nearly naked bodies for measurements and tailoring.
A familiar head pops up at the top of the stairs, damp blond hair pulled into a bun telling me he showered before leaving the gym—his gym—and coming to see me. He always does, ever since taking over a rundown boxing studio just down the street, he always pops up midday freshly showered and smelling like a dream to make sure I’ve eaten.
“Why are you stripping in front of my omega?” There’s a thread of possessive menace in Grieves’ voice that has both of us pausing. My mate sends a teasing wink in my direction through our bond and I relax the slightest bit, but Tristan remains frozen with one arm out of his shirt and one arm in.
“He’s actually in the process of getting dressed in front of me, bruiser.”
Grieves glances around. “I thought Petal and Haven were gonna be here with you. I didn’t think you were gonna be here alone with another male.”
Stop it,I mouth at him at the same time I chide him through our bond.
My alpha just grins and shrugs. The little shit.
“Tristan, it’s fine. He’s just fuc-messingwith you,” I correct, glancing down at the squirming baby in my arms. She’s too young to understand words at this point, but I’m not going to risk having her first word be ‘fuck’ because Auntie Ren can’t keep her mouth clean.
The male omega relaxes, but only marginally. And I can’t blame him. Grieves seems to have only gotten bigger in the last few months and I don’t know how the hell that’s possible.
“I’ll just… duck behind the screen, shall I?”
“You do that,” Grieves growls, still glowering. But it melts as soon as Tristan disappears, and he turns his attention to me. Then it’s all softness and light. “Hi, baby.”
I quirk a brow. “Me or Lyla?”
“Both.” Another glance around before he ducks down and steals a kiss. “But seriously, I thought Haven and Petal were going to be here?”
I bounce Lyla as she starts to get a little fussy. “They were here, and so was Creed. They went to grab food for us. I finished with Petal’s fitting and she was starving. You’re being overly protective again.”
He shrugs unrepentant. “You can’t blame me, can you? After what we’ve been through. What you’ve been through.”
I soften a little at that, shifting Lyla higher on my hip. “No,” I admit. “I can’t.”
Not when I still remember what it felt like to almost lose everything.
Not when I know how hard we all fought to get here.
Grieves hums, satisfied, and presses another kiss to my temple before reaching out to brush his knuckles over Lyla’s cheek. She grabs for him instantly, little fingers curling around his, and he melts—completely and utterly undone.
I can only imagine what he’ll be like when we have a baby of our own, if he’s this soft for our little niece.
“Yeah,” I murmur, watching the two of them. “We’re all a bit soft these days.”
“Speak for yourself,” he grunts, but there’s no heat in it. He knows he turns into a marshmallow over Lyla.
There’s a shuffle behind the screen and then Tristan steps out, tugging the jacket into place, smoothing his hands down the front as he looks at me expectantly.
“Well?” he demands, turning in a slow circle.
I hand Lyla over to Grieves without looking away, stepping forward to adjust the line of the lapel, tugging the sleeve down just a fraction.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, meaning it, somewhat smugly adding. “I do good work.”
“Don’t go getting an ego on me, jalapeno.”
Grieves chuckles. “Please get an ego, bubbles. You deserve to be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
And I am. Very proud.
My first limited launch was a success. Everything sold out in three days. My inbox has been inundated with requests for custom gowns. Too many for me to keep up with, especially since we’re expanding my clothing line for the next launch. I am busier than I’ve ever been, but also happier than I’ve ever been.
