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That won’t fly with Arin.
I need to make changes. I know I do. But that will take time, trial, and error. I wish I could claim I was a perfect man, but I’m not. All I can do is take a deep breath and try to make things right.
Knocking on her door rewards me with no answer.
“Arin?” I call.
No response.
Curious, I peak inside. Her bed is empty. The sheets are smooth and undisturbed, which tells me she likely hasn’t gone to bed yet. There’s really only one place she could be, so I move through her walk-in and enter her studio—her own private little world.
A smile spreads across my lips when I see her. She’s at her workstation, slumped over and snoring, a piece of cotton trapped between her cheek and the table’s surface. There’s no telling how long she’s been here, but I can’t imagine it’s a particularly comfortable way to fall asleep.
It’s chaotic in here. More so than usual. All sorts of sketches and pictures of models wearing her designs and seating plans and laminated press passes are strewn about. And I remember. Her show is tomorrow. Arin’s probably stressed out of her mind, working herself to the point of exhaustion.
I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. “Arin? This is no place to fall asleep, mi amore.”
“Mmphf,” she grumbles in protest, her eyelids sealed shut.
I chuckle. “Dolcezza, you’re going to wake up with a sore neck if you—”
When I take a step closer, I realize what she’s working on. It’s not some scrap of fabric, but an entire suit jacket. It’s obscured by her body, the majority of it trapped beneath her chest. It looks like she was in the middle of stitching on the label.
Marina’s.
Pressing a kiss to her cheek, I whisper in her ear, “Wake up, my love. The show’s about to begin.”
She shoots upright, making a little snorting sound as she wipes her mouth dry. She groans when she realizes where she is, glancing at me with wide, alert eyes. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
Arin shrugs. “After a week away? Figured you’d forgotten all about me.”
I cup her face and sigh. “You’re looking for a fight.”
“No, I’m not.”
I smile gently. “Yes you are, spitfire.”
She sighs, too tired and defeated to continue. “Yeah, alright. I guess I am.”
I hold her gaze and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Arin. I should not have spoken to you that way. You’re right. I’ve been neglecting you and Felicia, and that simply isn’t acceptable. Adjusting to my new role has been… challenging, but I will make more of an effort going forward to spend more time with you and our daughter. You are, and always will be, my top priority.”
Arin’s body language shifts, the tension in her shoulders melting away as she leans against my chest. “I’m sorry, too,” she mumbles sheepishly. “For causing a scene. And being so needy.”
“You’re allowed to need me, dolcezza. In fact, I’d prefer it.”
I let my hands slide down, lifting her face with a finger just below her chin. I kiss her softly on the lips, loving the way she feels against me. I’ve missed her more than I care to admit, and I really only have myself to blame for this distance I’ve wedged between us. Arin’s the one who deepens the kiss, the tip of her tongue dancing lightly over mine, but before I can make a move, she pulls away an inch.
“I should probably get some sleep,” she admits. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“Right, of course. I want you well rested.”
She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Will you… Are you going to be there?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I promise.”
Her sweet smile makes my heart sing. She turns and picks up the suit jacket she was working on. “I made this for you. To wear to the show.”
