Page 46 of Marry Lies
This is wrong.
Walk away, Estelle.
Just as I get my feet to move, he makes some sort of animalistic, rumbling roar that has my whole body tingling, has my skin pebbling with arousal. I watch his hips stutter, the way they jerk as he throws his head back, almost like he’s being electrocuted.
“Estelle,” he rasps.
Fuck.
Then he drops his hand and leans his forehead against the wall, catching his breath.
My heart is still racing as I turn around and walk out of the bathroom, making sure my bedroom door is closed.
Fuck, my wand…
No time.
I can’t risk him stepping out of the shower and realizing that Iwatchedhim like a stalker.
I climb into my bed and sink my hand underneath the band of my pajama bottoms, two fingers against my wet clit.Why am I so wet?A fierce orgasm rips through me thirty seconds later, and I suddenly realize that it’s because of him.
It turned me on to watch him.
And the worst thing? It turned me onmorethat he had no idea I was privy to his shower wank.
I fall asleep feeling satisfied…with a tinge of guilt wearing on me.
Even still…he said my name.
That has to mean something.
* * *
I wake up before the sun is up, so after brushing my teeth, I gather my sketching supplies and head downstairs in my pajamas. It’s barely five in the morning, and Miles’s door is closed, so I am hoping for some alone time to work on my drawings before I go on my daily walk. Quietly treading down the carpeted stairs, I regret not putting on my slippers as my feet meet the cool tile of the ground floor. The kitchen is still dark, and I turn the light on so I can prepare my cup of tea—and my oats with chocolate chips and peanut butter.
I learned, over the last year, that routines are pivotal to my mental health. I tried to keep as much as possible of my home routine when I moved here—namely, my tea and oats, a long morning walk, twenty minutes sunbathing for natural vitamin D, and a long, luxurious shower. The rest of the day could go to shite, but if I had those four things, it was bound to be an okay day.
After sitting on one of the stools at the island, I start sketching ideas for my clothing line, ignoring the newly bare countertops in the kitchen. Miles had obviously seen the additional containers and placed them in the pantry.
Prat.
This was going to be an obscenely long year of tug of war.
I shake all thoughts of my new husband out of my mind, leaning back as I stare at the sketch I’m in the middle of.
I’ve already done the legwork on the marketing side of VeRue—the tentative name of my clothing line. It’s a play on my last name. I like how simple it sounds. First and foremost, as with any new business venture, I’ve identified the niche market. I already know the basics. I want to design and manufacture fashionable, trendy accessible clothing—shirts, trousers, jumpers, and lingerie for those with disabilities. I’m also very adamant about having inclusive sizing.
I swallow when I look down at the ripped denim jeans that are cut higher in the back and lower in the front. My grandmother was wheelchair bound most of her adult life, and I remember her telling me that she was always on the hunt for jeans that would be comfortable for individuals who sat for most of the day.
In a way, this clothing line is all for her, and for people like her.
Beloved individuals who want—and deserve—to look andfeelbeautiful.
I crunched some numbers last night in bed, and it’s a good thing I’ll be receiving the first installment of Charles’s money today. I need to hit the ground running if I want to get this line up and running within the next year. I need a ton of money for advertising to start out, so I’m glad to have a decent reservoir of funds to utilize. I also reached out to a website designer about building a website and designing a logo—my current website is a sad, sad affair, and it needs a major revamping.
I’ll need a sewing machine, too—something to start playing around with patterns and designs. In London, I borrowed a friend’s machine.
Currently, I have a few ethically sourced things on my website: blazers, dresses, and shirts, mostly. I like to get a feel for the fabrics, and a handful of people have been supporting my tiny independent shop. The VeRue social media accounts are small, but I’m hoping to ramp them all up before launching. Everything is starting to fall into place, and I’m tentatively hopeful that maybe, just maybe, VeRue will be up and running full steam ahead by this time next year.
