Page 49 of The Spinster & the Sock

“Do you like them? We can call them your ‘blue not-quite-jeans’ and maybe in my next shipment of fabrics I can ask for some denim and make you a pair of real jeans.“ A megawatt smile spreads across her face.

“I’m sure Levi would love that—not as much as I would, though. These are perfect,” I praise, dropping into a squat, then standing and kicking at the air a few times. “Just enough stretch to move, nice and thick so I don’t get frostbite on my—“

“Yes, yes, I picked that fabric blend specifically for your balls. That, and I no longer needed it for Lady Winthrop’s winter coat, so I may as well use it.” The wattage of her smile dims.

I don’t even try to say anything. At this point, there is nothing left to say. I close the gap between us and pull her against my chest. As tickled as I am by the thought and the effort she put into my not-quite-jeans, I hate the reason why she had time and spare materials to make them. More than that, I hate the guilt gnawing at me for it. If I had never dropped into her life, would she still be sitting in the gutters of social ruin?

Did I destroy her life?

“I need to get dressed as well, or we’ll never have time to look at everything,” Jo sighs, squeezing me once before backing away. “Go wait downstairs now.”

“What? Down—are you kicking me out while you get naked? That’s the best part!” I groan in mock outrage. “Husband privilege states I get to see boobies!”

“And if you see the boobies, we’ll never leave the house. Now go downstairs and let me have a picturesque reveal with this dress!” she orders as she pushes me toward the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am.” I salute. I must admit, I am looking forward to this reveal. Aside from one afternoon when she was first playing with a few fabrics, I haven’t seen any part of this gown. She’s been sewing when I’m at work and hiding it before I get home.

I’m not left to wait long.

“Ready?” Jo calls out, followed by soft steps descending from the loft.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can get even a syllable out, there she is. Thank fuck for these thick pants, because anything weaker and my dick would have poked a hole in them. She’s stepping from the last stair and my jaw is on the floor.

“Christ, you look like season one Claire, but hotter because you’re you and you’re mine.“ I take a step towards her, not bothering to hide my intentions.

“You better behave! I want to at least say hello to Alby and Gus and see all of your hard work in action. Afterward, you can bring me home and do whatever it is that’s bouncing around in your head right now.”

I grumble my displeasure while reaching out to touch the edge of the pine green muslin. The dress really does resemble something that walked out of the Outlander costume closet—a long skirt and sleeves, a few ruffles framing her waist that peek out under the matching full-length overcoat.

“I like the gold,” I tell her, tracing a line of the shimmering embroidery as it shapes and accentuates her figure. “The whole ton is going to eat their hearts out tonight. As soon as they see this dress and realize how stupid they are for taking their business anywhere else—“

“I would love to be humble and argue, but I am incredibly proud of this one and hope you’re right. I don’t wish to think about what will happen if you’re not…” she trails off, fidgeting with her skirts.

“Well, enough of that—that is tomorrow Jo and Blaze’s problem. Today’s problem is how far can I walk at half-staff just from seeing you in my favorite color.” I snag my wife’s hand and head for the coat rack, dutifully wrapping a scarf around her neck as she rolls her eyes.

“Last week you said purple was your favorite color, and before that it was yellow,” she chides, pulling a trimmed straw bonnet on and tying the ribbons deftly beneath her chin.

“And when we first met, it was pink. My favorite color is whatever you’re in.” I wink at her and slip into my own coat before plucking my hat from the top of the rack and tucking it under my arm.

“You’re an insufferable dog,” she mutters as she steps through the door I’m now holding open. I don’t believe her ire to be true for a second though, and her fingers trailing across my chest as she passes agree.

On Thin Ice

Josephine

The ton transforms into something magical. It is always beautiful and well-kept, but the winter festival spares no expense. Fresh pine garlands with ribbons and cranberries are strung between streetlamps, and lanterns hang from their centers, adding additional warm light to the snowy evening. Vendors of every variety line the streets leading to Regent’s Park, including my rival modiste. I offer her a thin smile in passing, assuring Blaze there is no need to snub her work.

His fierce loyalty is endearing, but is rapidly adding weight to the crippling guilt I’m suffocating beneath. I grimace at her small wooden sign which reads: ‘More wares on display, continue on towards tents’.

“So she has paid for two stalls,” I mutter under my breath.

Horse-drawn sleighs glide past, conveying merry festival attendees to and fro, and carolers sing at every street corner. The scent of roasting chestnuts fills the air, and despite the cold, falling snow and my personal internal hatred, I feel warm.

“I’m not so sure I trust skating on that pond,” Blaze grumbles for the hundredth time, slinging our skates over his shoulder. “Cold water and I don’t have a great history.”

I feel myself grow small. Can he see the lie bleeding through my skin? Does he know the redness in my cheeks is actually my misery having nowhere else to go? I am afraid to speak lest I admit that a part of me hopes he falls through the ice and back into his own time before I have to confess that I am sure the next twenty-four hours are indeed his window for return and I have not told him for fear of loneliness. Selfishly, I am inclined to let him have his way and avoid skating altogether. Perhaps staying away from that pond is still the best option for the both of us…or me, at least.

“I know,” he continues cheerfully. “It is tradition and I must do it, but if I fall on that ice and split my banana, I am going to be really pissed.”