I'm about to start my new job on Thursday, so wish me luck! If you like this chapter give it a review because it will help me get through the stressful time. Lol :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 14

I didn't even want to look at him. I imagined the expression on his face was triumphant – blowing my story out of the water. Why we were even still trading stories I had no idea, I had no idea why I hadn't left this godforsaken room hours ago. But most of all – I didn't know how he could even speak that bitch's name without feeling sick. I did whenever he said it.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked as sarcastically as I could. Blaine looked in my direction and his expression flickered slightly.

"No." He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Do you think you're clever – being an even bigger asshole than me?" I leant forward slightly, trying to make my point crystal clear. Sometimes I thought he just did this to rile me up – that he knew exactly what I was talking about and just wanted to see my face turn darker shades of pink.

"I wasn't being an asshole."

"So talking about being lorded over by some freakin whore, who is female by the way, is just a-ok in your book?"

"I wasn't lorded by her."

"Yes you were! Wasn't it great being 'Big Dick Blaine Anderson' – king of the motherfucking office! Did you enjoy watching her cream her pants over you and then joking about it with your stupid douchebag mates? Weren't you a freakin superstar!?" Blaine seemed a little hurt. My voice had risen in volume and I was probably on about a 5 in the pink shade scale. I didn't care if he was upset. I wanted to hurt him as much as physically possible.

"That's just what you did." He suddenly replied.

"What?" I stopped my rant. "How did I do that?"

"You let yourself be lorded over. You know who I mean." Oh. I suppose he did have a point.

"But he was male!"

"That makes it worse! You were vaguely attracted to him." Funny how he wouldn't even say Frankie's name. At least I was able to mention Natasha. "I wasn't to her." Immediately I scoffed.

"Could've fooled me."

"Don't you dare say that." Suddenly Blaine went to stand up. Brian immediately reached his hand out to hold him back and Steve moved to protect me – for a second the two solicitor's clashed gazes and both looked to fiercely protect their client. I'd never seen Steve so riled up, his normally immaculate shirt was ruffled and he looked like he'd been running his hands through his thin hair many times. It seemed this whole ordeal wasn't just affecting Blaine and I.

"I would have died to protect our relationship." My husband continued. This time my laugh was in astonishment.

"Are we really going there? Seriously?" I couldn't believe it.

"You know it's true. I would never have been unfaithful to you," bullshit, "you were my entire world." This was ridiculous. I flung my hands up in the air, making Steve flinch and Brian move his arm abruptly in front of Blaine's face incase I was about to throw anything.

"But you still did it."

"I didn't have a choice. You did."

"What do you mean? I was never unfaithful to you!" Well, not really… Blaine sighed.

"I was always second best to one thing.

"And what exactly was that?"

"Your job."

The flowers were all wrong. I could feel my palms beginning to sweat, making the clipboard in my hands slide about so I clutched at it desperately and tried to keep my cool.

"The flowers." I suddenly exclaimed at Diego, who was rushing past me balancing a whole series of outfits in a big pile in his arms. "Get rid of them."

"What?" He replied, looking at me in confusion. "Get rid of them?"

"Yes. They're not right. Just do it." I was grateful he could tell I was stressed and not just shouting at him. When I'd envisioned my first show it hadn't looked at all like this. The guests were due to arrive in two hours and we were nowhere near finished.

"Ok Kurt, I'm on it." With a hasty smile my assistant rushed off and I sighed, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes as I tried to block everything out. It was all getting a little too much. The sound of the models being briefed drifted over from the other room and I figured I should go join them. They were wearing my designs after all.

My designs.

Designs I had worked on tirelessly for months and months – scouting out the fabric and cutting and sewing each individual piece (with a little help) to create these masterpieces of clothes. Each outfit was like a little piece of my soul. Checking my clipboard one final time I hauled myself away from the wall and walked proudly into the other room.

(*)

This was it.

The room was abuzz with people. So far nearly everyone I had invited had turned up – a good start for a fledgling designer – and for once I thanked Frankie and his PR contacts. He had been banned from coming anywhere near me during the show, especially with the way he tended to look at me any time we were within 5 feet in the studio, but I was still glad for his help. Diego had smartened up from his previous attire of slacks and a polo shirt and scrubbed up rather well. I felt rather like an older brother watching him greet guests and explain the tireless processes that had gone into making this evening. As I stared down at my own outfit, a black kilt teamed with a red shirt and long boots (something I had literally spent HOURS deciding on, with four previous changes) I smiled, finally feeling like I was getting somewhere.

"Are you ok Mr Hummel?" One of the bar staff asked me. I wanted to tell him that his hairstyle did nothing for the shape of his face and that I didn't really think the way he was holding his tray of drinks was going to be very good for his wrist, but managed to restrain myself.
"Yes thank you." He smiled, obviously happy to be doing me service (even if it was just manners), and then slipped back off into the crowds to do his job. I watched him disappear and smiled, before checking my watch. I always wondered if it was 5 minutes fast, or if one person was just perpetually not on time.

"Hey baby." A voice diverted my attention from myself and I looked up to see my husband rushing up towards me. He looked a little flustered, as if he'd just come straight from work.

"Hey." We kissed, a brief but tender peck, and as we pulled away I looked him up and down.

"You're late."

"I know." He grimaced, knowing that this wasn't the first time we'd had this conversation. "I tried baby, I tried."

"Couldn't you have changed?" Blaine's remorseful expression faltered a little, before he looked down and realised that he was kind of dressed rather formally.

"Sorry. I had to stay for this meeting and it went on longer than I was expecting." His hand reached up to loosen his tie and I pushed it away, tightening it just a fraction again and then smoothing down his collar. Once I was satisfied with his clothes I moved to his hair, letting my fingers linger around his scalp as I brushed it down.

"I feel like I never get to see you anymore." I said, a hint of sadness in my tone. Blaine stared back at me with equally sad eyes, before I felt his hand take mine.

"Well you're busy too. I mean look at this!" Gesturing around the room, which was getting more crowded by the minute, he smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. "You've been sorting all this out."

"Yeah. While you look at some numbers on a computer screen." As my husband pouted I grinned, leaning my head against his shoulder and letting him hold me for a few seconds, before I realised it was probably unprofessional to be spending more time with my husband than potential buyers and straightening myself up.

"Come on, let's go talk to some people."

(*)

As I mingled through the crowds with Blaine at my side we talked to many different people, all of different shapes and sizes. They would ask something about the designs and I would give a long lengthy reply – I could tell my husband didn't really understand but he at least pretended to look interested.

(*)

"How long have you two been married?" I looked across from the well-dressed middle aged man and his wife to Blaine and smiled.

"Nearly a year now." He smiled back, squeezing my hand and gazing back into my eyes with genuine affection. "It's been a happy time."

"With lots of hard work." My husband chimed in, happy to be able to give a reply as we weren't talking about silk or the latest brand of sewing machine. He grinned and the couple laughed - I couldn't tell if they were just being polite or genuinely found it funny.

"And what do you do?" I smiled again at Blaine's surprised reaction – that he was actually being asked a question.

"Um, I'm an accountant." He replied, suddenly bashful. The man waited for him to continue but when nothing came I decided to step in.

"He got an apprenticeship from college. Working with one of the best banks in the city – Gringle-"

"-Why don't we hear some more about your designs honey?" The response was abrupt. It caught me off guard and for a second I paused.

"Um…?"

"Nobody wants to hear about a stupid bank." Blaine laughed, squeezing my hand and leaning against me like he was finding his joke completely hilarious. The people we'd been talking to looked a little confused, but I smiled and moved quickly on. It was a little strange, I would have thought Blaine would have grabbed the chance to talk about the job he spent so much time doing with both hands. But he was right – this wasn't the night to be talking about finances. Unless they were going towards my designs.

(*)

The show was fantastic. Diego had done a fantastic job and pretty much all of my suggestions had been used. As I watched the models walk down the catwalk, showing off my designs to the 100 or so people in the room, it hit me how far I had come. How far Blaine and I had both come. I glanced over at him, about to say something, but saw his eyes fixed on the show, completely amazed. He might not be as involved with the process as I would like, but he still believed in it. Blaine believed in me.

In my peripheral vision something moved and I realised it was Frankie, fiddling with the lights. Immediately guilt pooled in my stomach and I turned away, cursing myself for letting it get to me. Blaine noticed and reached out his hand to place over mine, always caring, always concerned.

"Everything ok baby?" He asked. I smiled, as convincingly as I could, and rubbed the underside of his fingers with my knuckles.

"Yeah. Everything's great."