Page 77 of The Artist and the Muse

“Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go spend the rest of our lives together.”

Chapter Thirty-Four: Georgia Devereaux

“And that’s the story of the painting,” George finished with a flourish. “Now it’s time for you two to go to sleep.”

Savannah and Sadie were both yawning at this point, so it seemed like a good time to end our real life fairytale.

“But Dad,” Sadie whined while an enormous yawn distorted her words to a comical degree. “We’re not…tired.”

“Too bad,” I said, putting my hands sternly on my hips as George cleared the mugs to put them in the dishwasher. “You have to go to bed or else you’ll be too tired to visit Grandma tomorrow.”

They perked up slightly at the mention of my mom, who had taken to spoiling them with her baking, courtesyof Pillsbury’s premade cookie dough. After work, I was sick of making desserts—the only sweet treat I made was hot chocolate—and stuck to savoury food, hence their love for visiting Grandma’s.

“Okay…” Savannah drew out the word just as George re-entered the living room and scooped her off the loveseat and into his arms.

I chuckled as I watched him throw Savannah in the air before catching her again. She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he swung her around in a big circle before setting her down.

Sadie grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie. “My turn, Daddy, my turn!”

He grabbed her and swung her around as well, and Savannah sat on the floor, laughing as she watched the two of them.

My heart swelled with joy, peace, and contentment as I watched the three of them. God had, for some reason beyond my imagination, seen fit to bless me with a family whom I loved more than anything. More than my business—more than I’d ever loved modelling—more than I had thought I could ever love anything or anyone.

“No more,” George said, his tone mock-stern. “I’m too dizzy.”

He made a big show of turning around before falling dramatically onto the carpet with an exaggeratedoomph. The fireplace crackled behind them, flames casting dancing shadows on these three walking pieces of my heart. I couldn’t think of anything that would make this scene more perfect.

“Come join us, Mommy!” Sadie waved me over, and I cheerfully joined them. While our daughters seemed so young and innocent now, they would soon grow up and no longer enjoy the simple comforts of storytime at home with their parents. In a few years, they’d even be sassy, rebellious teenagers. I’d savour this time with them while I could.

I tucked my arms around my daughters as George scooted next to me, pulling Sadie on his lap as Savannah curled up against me. Aftera few minutes, while George and I leaned back against the ottoman in the centre of the living room, both of them were fast asleep.

“I should’ve made them brush their teeth,” I whispered to George.

“It’s fine. One night without brushing their teeth won’t give them tooth decay.”

I didn’t argue with him as we carefully stood, each cradling one child, and made our way up the stairs to their bedrooms. We parted ways at the top of the stairs, finding our respective daughter’s room. Gently laying Savannah in her pink, pony-themed bedroom and tucking her in, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She was still sound asleep as I plugged in her sparkly butterfly-shaped nightlight and closed the door.

As I came out of Savannah’s room, George was standing in the hallway, having just completed the same ritual with Sadie.

“Finally,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I thought they’d never fall asleep.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Why, Mr. Devereaux, was there something you wanted to do without the watchful eyes of our small children?”

“This.” Then he lunged toward me, hands finding my sides, and began tickling me so hard I doubled over in silent laughter, unable to breathe.

“George,” I huffed out between gasping breaths of laughter. “Stop.”

He relented, only to sweep me into his arms bridal-style, carrying me to our bedroom and settling us on the chaise lounge.

Our bedroom was a mix of George’s and my decorating styles; the French-style chaise lounge and tufted headboard were to his tastes, while the sleigh bed, emerald-green sheets, and mountain of throw pillows shaped like various baked goods were my design preferences.

Planting a kiss on my cheek, he sighed in contentment. “You know what?”

“I don’t.” It was my standard response to his statement, which I knew drove him crazy.

He shook his head. “I love you more today than I did when we married.”

“You say that every single day.”

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