A Mate for Lu - Amy Bellows Page 0,19
through the morning, taking extra time to make pancakes for Mary to eat with the strawberries Cy left for her. I cuddle with her in bear form a little longer than normal too. I feel happy. Excited, even.
When I finally open my laptop to bid on more projects, I stop and think about what HarperCollins said about our book. They were interested in my art specifically.
This new happiness with Sam makes me bold, and instead of bidding on new graphic design projects, I return to the submission guidelines of the publishing companies that rejected me a few years ago.
I’ve learned a lot since then. Maybe if I submitted again, they’d give me a chance.
It takes me all morning, but I carefully compile a new portfolio, using my illustrations from Sam’s book and a few other things I painted with the supplies he bought me a year ago. My style has changed since I had Mary. I used to work with oil paint, but switched to watercolors to avoid exposing her to the chemicals. The result is softer, gentler lines. But it’s more than just the lines. The art itself is less sad and more whimsical. I may be lonely sometimes, but I’m much happier now that Mary is in my life.
At noon I take a break to feed her lunch, and I get an idea. A silly idea, really. But once it takes hold, I can’t shake it.
I take out my phone and text an old friend who owes me a favor.
Is it too late to take you up on your offer?
I always feel nervous when I text Ansel, even though he’s been nothing but nice to me. We went to school together. He was more popular than me, but we both took all of the art classes our high school had to offer, so we became casual friends by default. I heard that he bonded to a penguin shifter who’s absolutely crazy about him.
He’s really beautiful and confident, so I guess that makes sense.
My phone buzzes. It’s Ansel.
It’s never too late. I’m working today if you want to drop by.
When Mary’s nap approaches, I load her into the car instead of putting her to bed. Once she’s nodded off, she’ll sleep through almost anything.
I drive through the city, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to droop, then close, as we head for the center of town where people walk along the sidewalks carrying bags from the fancy clothing shops and art galleries I can’t afford to shop at.
I park behind a tiny white boutique at the center of everything. Nothing but the best for Ansel. I’m sure that his mothers used all of their political power to ensure his shop got premium real estate.
Mary stays asleep as I unlock her seatbelt and lift her into my arms. I carry her to the front door of the shop where the floor-to-ceiling windows display a variety of mannequins all wearing pale blue lace. One has a full lace bodysuit with pretty satin buttons down the back, one is wearing a peek-a-boo bra and crotchless panties, and one has nothing but lacy stockings and a matching pair of elbow-length gloves on. Several of them are sporting different corsets. The mannequins are both male and female alphas and omegas of various sizes, along with several enby variations. Ansel makes lingerie for anyone who can afford his prices, regardless of their body shape or gender.
A sign next to the door says, “Make your ‘something blue’ memorable.” The white letters, “Whispers and Lace” curl around each other above the front door.
When I step inside, the store is packed. Several employees mill about the different displays, writing down orders and swiping credit cards. Ansel is near the back next to the satin underwear.
“Yes, that particular style comes in both red and pale pink. Although I personally love it in plum. Such a flirty color for the winter.”
The customer eyes the G-string and shakes their head. When they move on to the next display, I take a hesitant step toward Ansel.
His lips spread into a smile. “How is my favorite model?”
A year after I had Mary, he asked me if I wanted to model his new spring line of lingerie. I politely reminded him that I had a C-section scar. He smiled and said, “So what? My mate’s stretch marks are my favorite part of his body. Well… one of my favorite parts.”
The homepage of his website features me