Only a few weeks had passed since Leni had received the order of thirty dresses and fifteen designs. At first she hadn't shown any symptoms, and she had taken the pregnancy test only after she was certain she was late on her period—which they had been tracking and no, she still had about a week to go before her period, but she would always get excited about taking the test that she swore up and down she was late. Maybe it was still too early then, but now she was showing symptoms of pregnancy. Leni was typically energetic, but lately she was slowing down, constantly lethargic, despite trying to keep up her energy. She tried to deny being tired but he'd caught her yawning with half-lidded eyes multiple times.
The worst symptom was moodiness. He would try to separate her from her dresses at night so she could get even a little bit of sleep, but she would lash out in anger, reminding him that she had a huge order to fill and didn't want to fall behind. It was a hard decision—would overworking herself on something she loved cause more stress than sleep deprivation? They were both taking a toll on her but he couldn't figure out which one was worse.
"I'll make her look so good her groom will fall in love with her all over again once he sees her in this," Leni said through her teeth, clenching them to hold three pins while her two hands were carefully weaving a sewing needle through delicate lace around the collar of the wedding dress.
Her designs had been pitched last week but she had yet to receive any news on CoverGirl's choice, assuming they chose any of her designs. Right after her portfolio, she went to work on the wedding dress knowing it would be the most difficult and time-consuming.
"You sure you should be holding sharp objects in your mouth, babe?" he asked—more or less telling her to get them out.
"It's quicker this way," she answered, either ignoring or not picking up on his requests.
Once again his choice was torn. Despite her having already made it for him—or to put it better, shooting him down—he still didn't know which was worse: letting her prick herself with those pins or let her stress over falling behind. There was no doubt in his mind that she was an extremely skilled seamstress, and she knew exactly what she was doing, but it would've been nice if her job included a chair and a desk rather than a stool and a sewing table. He wanted her to stay off her feet for a while after standing in one place for hours on end, shuffling around the mannequin at most. And her arms had to be worn out.
"You should eat," she told him. "I made chicken salad for you, it's in the refrigerator."
"You do know that you need to eat too, right?"
"I just had grape-cherry-kiwi smoothie."
He sighed. "That's not an actual meal. You took the time to make chicken and put together a salad mix. Why don't you come eat with me?"
"No thanks. I'll forget where I was."
"Just stick one of your pins in."
He took a little pride in that idea. It was like bookmarking a page but with clothing.
"Won't work. See this here?" She nodded towards…something that, he supposed, only she had a keen enough eye to see. "There are some loose threads. I can't pin those."
He kept wondering when she would start taking this pregnancy thing seriously, because all the books said she needed to be careful especially during her first trimester. He kept trying to make her adhere to a rigid schedule constructed specifically to her new needs, but she couldn't care less and never followed it. Granted, they had visited an OB only a few days ago and she said everything looked fine…but still, he wanted everything to remain fine. Anything could go wrong at any given moment and Leni didn't bother to acknowledge that. What if she swallowed those pins? Did she even consider that possibility?!
But he couldn't act on his frustration, especially not with her hormones raging.
"But what if the baby's hungry?"
"I just fed it a smoothie. That's like, a bunch of mushed up fruits. It's really healthy, want me to make one for you?"
"Will it get you out of the room to eat?" he grumbled.
She giggled in response. "I'll eat later."
He didn't normally like to pester her while she was focusing so hard on something, but…
"I guess…you just don't want to spend more time with me…" he sighed very sadly.
She paused what she was doing and looked over her shoulder. Any other time it would be an awful thing to guilt her into doing something but the woman had to take a break sometime. Working nonstop wasn't good even without a bun in the oven, and making excuses for it was even worse.
He kicked his foot and let his shoulders sag. "I get it…the dress is pretty important, sorry for bothering you…"
"Wait, no, you're not bothering me!" She dropped the pins into her cupped hand while the other held the lace against the collar. "We can eat together, just let me finish this one part. I'll be right there, I promise."
Assuming she didn't forget it, she usually kept her word.
He smiled and perked up, pretending that she had just relieved his great distress.
She gathered the pins back up in her mouth and continued to sew on the lacing. As much as he wanted to stay just in case, he chose to leave her be. As much as she loved to socialize even she liked some alone time. Plus he wanted her to get done as soon as she could and to do that, she had to focus. Socialization oftentimes broke her concentration. Never good.
One thing he really hoped was that she didn't feel so guilty she was rushing herself. She had strong tendencies to mess something up when she rushed and depending on how bad the mistake was, she could have to start all over. And for a wedding dress…that would push her for another week, as she expected to be done with this dress within a couple more days. Next on her agenda would be the bridesmaids dresses and after that the guest dresses.
It wasn't always dresses—she would also be commissioned for shirts, pants, quilts, skirts, and sometimes costumes. Most fabric-related items were tasked to her but others, like upholstery and pillow cases, were things she never accepted. Aside from quilts and blankets, she mostly made clothing articles. Ironically a Halloween costume was easier for her than a wedding dress, probably because she had a chance to incorporate more of her natural creative flair using materials she couldn't use for anything else.
"I'm here!" she called as she ran into the kitchen.
The first thing he noticed was a bandaid around her thumb. It was a minor injury that would definitely have no effect on the baby or her, but it would be painful to sew now. He inwardly cursed himself for not simply bringing her a plate and eating in the room with her. Then maybe she wouldn't have felt so pressured and wouldn't have poked herself. The big question was whether she got any blood on the dress. If she did, it was ruined, even if that blood was minuscule, and instead of correcting only the affected area, she would salvage only what she deemed worthy and start again.
She rummaged in the fridge for a few seconds before pulling out a Tupperware container full of salad and chopped-up chicken bits.
"I was think about adding bacon, since I know you love it," she said as she prepared two plates, "but chicken is better for you."
She shouldn't be caring half as much about his health as she should her own.
"Leni, listen," he sighed.
She handed him a plate, napkin, and fork, and settled down next to him with her own salad.
"I know we've talked about this a hundred times but I really don't want you working so hard like this," he said. "It's sweet that you care so much about my health and all but what about yours?"
She shrugged. "I do care but I'm already healthy and you're…um…" she took a quick glance at his stomach. "You're sort of…not as healthy. But don't worry, I love you no matter what you look like!"
She kissed his cheek before stabbing her fork to get a combination of lettuce and a chicken bit at the same time and taking a bite.
"Honey, I'm not working my butt off just because Bridezilla wants a perfect dress."
Leni looked confused for a few seconds. "My butt is where it's always been…"
His exhale was nice and long—he should've known by now to never use a figure of speech, as she took those very literally. In a way, he kind of did walk right into that.
"My point is that her dress doesn't have to be just right. It can have a few little mistakes in it, nobody will notice."
The silence lingered as she reeled for a defensive reply and he took that moment to eat a few bites.
"Remember when we were younger?" she began. "We dated for a long time—" Five years, in fact. "—and then one night you took me to the park and and we went for a walk. You stopped me and pulled a ring out of your pocket, got down on one knee, and asked me to marry you? You were sweating so much. You told me I made you the happiest man in the world. We were engage a while longer—" A year. "—and I made my own wedding dress. It had to be perfect because when my dad walked me down the isle I'd never felt so happy. You told me I looked amazing."
She leaned against him and finished, "I think every girl deserves that."
Oof. She hit him with that story. It wasn't the first time he had heard her side of the proposal and wedding tale—he was sure she often forgot she ever told it to him—but it was the first time he had heard her use it to describe why she worked so hard to make each dress radiate beauty and grace. Her heart was simply too big.
"What if we're having a daughter?" he asked, trying to counter her mindset.
Before he could even finish, though, she jumped in excitement and exclaimed, "WE'RE HAVING A BABY GIRL?!"
"I…I don't know, but, um, can you imagine how beautiful she'll look at her wedding?" It seemed like a pathetic attempt to steer Leni back on the track he wanted her on.
And it didn't work, at all, not even close. It only sent her on a spiel about having a daughter, as though he had just spoken the truth in telling her the baby would be a girl. Now he kind of hoped it would be, simply because she was so enthralled about the idea of a daughter that she was literally bouncing in her seat. But what if the baby was a boy? What if they ended up having a son? Leni was incredibly maternal and, according to her family, always had been. He was sure that the baby's gender wouldn't matter in the end, but at the same time, he wanted her to stay this excited for as long as she could.
He had read those pregnancy books…he knew about what to expect, including a necessity to keep mom calm. Although in the case of his wife, her feelings were rarely in the neutral so happiness was about as close as he would come to tranquil. And even though she generally had a sunny disposition, lately she was stressed and sleep-deprived, so this one little victory was probably the thing that made him happy just to see her happy. When mom was happy, baby was happy, and it was exactly what he wished for—a happy little family of his own, complete with a loving wife, a child, and maybe one day a dog…hopefully one day a dog.
Leni's one-sided celebration came to a sudden halt and her face twisted into a no-longer-joyful one. Her bouncing stopped completely and she stared straight ahead.
"Leni?" he said as he stood up and draped a comforting arm over her shoulders. "Honey? Are you okay?"
Suddenly she threw his arm off and ran to the bathroom with a look of urgency. She didn't have time to even shut the door before he heard her fall to her knees, followed by the distinct sound of gagging and splattering.
He quickly rushed to her side and held her hair back and she clung to the edges of the toilet bowl, her head hanging weakly above it. He tried to soothe her by rubbing her back. She didn't even seem to realize he was there.
He made a mental note to never get her that excited again, even if it did mean she was happy. It was true that she had morning sickness that for some reason only ever made an appearance midday, but shaking up the contents of her stomach, especially right after she had swallowed anything, was a stupid idea. He should've made an effort to calm her back down before this happened—as calm as she could get, anyway.
He did tend to get very frustrated when she intentionally overworked herself, and sometimes it was exhausting to deal with her constant episodes of absent-mindedness, but all the mood swings, nausea, and other symptoms reminded him that a lot of his frustration was misplaced—Leni didn't have a choice and he wasn't suffering the way she was. This wasn't his fault but it wasn't her either.
When he was sure she was done, he finally let her go to get her a glass of water. The books emphasized the importance of hydration and now she had lost food and water. And that smoothie she'd claimed to drink earlier? She wasn't lying about that. He only hoped it looked and smelled better when it was going down…
He came back to find her brushing her teeth, toilet flushed and face cleaned—even though it was still red and spotty from the pressure.
"Honey," he said softly as he used his knuckles to tap on the door. "I brought you some water."
She looked at his reflection in the mirror and spat her toothpaste into the sink, aiming it at the water trickling down the drain.
"I need you to drink it if you can, okay?"
She nodded and quietly took the glass. He wanted her to drink the whole thing, if possible, but she only took a few sips before setting it on the bathroom counter, signaling that she was done. He wasn't going to press her to drink any more.
"You want to rest for a little bit?" he asked.
"Okay." Her voice was raspy and it was clear she wasn't up for conversation.
He put an arm around her waist and slowly, patiently guided her into bed. With a mix between little sleep, stress, and feeling sick, it was no wonder she didn't bother pulling a blanket over herself, choosing instead to turn onto her side and close her eyes. In this rare moment she ignored her unfinished dress.
He went back to the bathroom to bring her the glass of water and, when she refused it, he set it on the nightstand near their bed.
"It's not supposed to last much longer," he told her. That was what the books said, therefore it had to be true. "Only a few more weeks."
She groaned her disapproval and he couldn't blame her. Every time he heard a group of women talk about pregnancy, at one point or another one of them would bring up how awful it was and the joke would be made, "Women have the babies because men can't handle it." Sometimes he was sure that was true. If he had to suffer nine months of discomfort in all kinds of ways, only to be rewarded with hours of agony and weeks of soreness afterward, he would never agree to have babies.
He brushed her beautiful blond
He brushed her beautiful blonde hair to the side and kissed her temple.
"Get some rest now," he whispered.
She nodded and in moments her breathing evened out. Her face relaxed and her mouth parted ever so slightly. He wanted to get into bed with her and hold her, maybe stroke her belly to see if maybe he could find a tiny baby bump just starting to emerge, but he was her husband. He could hold her in bed every night if he wanted and feel her stomach anytime. It also came with the responsibility of knowing when not to do that though, and as deeply elated as he was to feel even the slightest protrusion on her abdomen to further prove that his baby was in fact growing well inside the one woman he loved most in his whole life, the only woman he would ever want to have children with, he opted to close the curtains and leave the room entirely, shutting the door behind him while Leni finally got some much-needed rest.
He seriously did consider calling Rachel, Leni's "manager" so to speak, up and demanding that the woman tell this mystery bride to back off with all the dresses—that there were a million stores that would sell them—because the toll it was taking on Leni was becoming a problem and he didn't want it to end up adversely affecting both her and their baby. Even if it did mean buying all that fabric for nothing.
But if he did, he would really hear it from his wife, especially if he was taking advantage of a time when she was unable to discuss this with him first. Not to mention that Leni would only call Rachel to get the bride's number, and then personally apologize to the bride and offer to give her a discount for the trouble. WHAT TROUBLE?
If Leni was going to work this hard, she at least better be paid in full. Or extra, since she was with child now…note to self: never phrase pregnancy as "with child" in Leni's presence. He could already imagine her trying to correct him by saying something like, "The baby isn't out yet."
The phone rang and he jumped into action, picking it up before his sleeping wife could wake up from its ridiculously loud ring.
"Hello?" he said.
"Chaz, is that you?" a woman asked.
Speak of the devil, it was Rachel…it was like the universe was begging him to cancel the rest of this order.
"Oh, hi, Rachel. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing just fine. How have you been, Chaz? It's been a while since we last talked. Leni can't stop talking about the baby on the way! Are you excited?" Rachel giggled so girlishly he forgot to ask why she called. "Hard to be more excited than Leni, huh?"
All this time he honestly did assume Leni had no real acknowledgement that she was carrying a very, very delicate little person relying on her actions just to stay alive. He was wrong. He had no idea why she wasn't showing as much excitement as he wanted her to around him, but she seemed to be fully aware and extremely excited—she communicated with Rachel almost daily, mostly to discuss business, so of course Rachel would know. He had heard her on the phone with Rachel in the past…they always ended up talking at least a few minutes' worth of conversation unrelated to business. Maybe this was what Rachel meant when she said Leni couldn't shut up about the baby.
"I-I'm very excited actually, but you know how Leni gets," he chuckled.
"Oh, that woman kills me! She goes over the top with herself. Have you two thought about names yet? Nursery?"
"Well, right now we're just making sure everyone stays healthy. We have about…eight more months to make a list of names and get a nursery ready." Right, right, the question! "So are you looking for Leni?"
"Oh! Right! Actually yes, I do need to discuss a few things with her. Can she come to the phone now or is she still obsessing over a dress?"
He had to admit, even though Rachel could be the bearer of bad news sometimes, she genuinely did care about Leni and knew her like a close friend.
"Neither. She's far enough along now that she has morning sickness. She's tired, she is sleep-deprived because she says the dress has to be perfect. She resting right now, I don't want to wake her up," he explained.
He could feel Rachel roll her eyes.
"I keep telling her it doesn't have to be perfect, she won't listen to a word I say! And sleep? Does she even know what that is anymore? Look, I completely understand, I think we should both let her get the rest she needs. However, when she wakes up, I need to talk to her about this order for the wedding."
"Can I just take a message?" he asked. "Leni's in a big hurry to get this done before Thanksgiving."
"Absolutely. Do you have something you can write this down with?"
"Uh, hold on." He slipped away from the phone and carefully brought back a pen and notepad from the master bedroom—he made sure he was quiet enough to avoid disturbing his wife. "Back."
"Okay. Make sure you get this right," Rachel commanded. "Ms. Martin—that's the bride—wants to make some changes to the bridesmaid's dresses." At least Leni hadn't started working on those yet. "She wants a fuchsia color for each one and they all need to have a bow of the same color and material on the left shoulder strap. It has to be in the middle when viewed from the front, and it needs to be six inches in length and three inches in height. The bow must be frayed as well. Did you get all that?"
He finished writing down the last request—all for one bow. "Yeah. I'll show Leni when she wakes up. Anything else?"
"Tell her I said hi. I have to go now, bye, Chaz!"
With that the woman hung up. He put the phone back and went over his notes one last time. It wasn't a big change at all but he had no idea if Leni had any fabric in that particular color, or if she had enough. It was all crammed into one desk. Maybe the guest room could be turned into a studio for her to work in… It wasn't a huge room but it definitely had more space for all her things than their bedroom. And honestly, when did they ever get guests? With the future nursery nobody would want to stay the night.
It would such a nice surprise for her to convert an unused room into her own little work space. He wouldn't be able to strip floors or repaint the whole place, and he couldn't add any extra windows—it currently had one—for the natural light that he knew she loved, but he could add a wider desk for her sewing machine and install shelves and cabinets. In the middle could go her mannequin, with more room to work around it. Maybe he could even get a second mannequin for her. He could get a cork board for notes and design plans. Tack some hooks and metal racks onto the wall. Put a calendar up. The step stool could go in there so she could still reach higher places. And he could do it all himself so it wouldn't cost a ton of money. Not to mention there would finally be room to actually move in the bedroom without bumping into something.
It was a pretty nice idea to marinate. Maybe he could pull that off, although he had no idea how he would keep it a surprise when she worked from home—even she would suspect something was up when he started stealing all her fabric rolls. Sooo maybe the surprise would be empty at first. But he was sure she would still like it.
A/N
It's not every day I update this fast and this got way more attention in two days than most fics get in a week. Not much happened in the first chapter. I was worried about Leni being OOC so I'm really glad I could keep her in-character. Not a lot happened here either, just want to emphasize that Leni is capable of taking things very seriously now...hope I still kept her in-character.
And thank you to CornerstoneKey for a long ass review, glad you liked Leni so much! (Jk bro, I loved your review.)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed and showed such support! Don't be afraid to add some constructive criticism. This is only my second fic after all and it's my first LH fic so I'm sure I messed up some places.