Desiree stepped into the barren space of her old room. She took a deep breath in, reorienting herself to the familiarity of the small space. Before nightfall, workmen had come to restore her bed and set up her quilting table. There was no way that she’d be able to bring all of her fabrics to the room. Declan agreed it would be okay for her to do the bulk of her work in the seamstress hall.
On the first night back, she sat at the quilting table with several blocks of beautiful fabric and fine thread, but she was unmotivated to begin a single stitch. It was like that for two weeks. She only left the room to join the village for meals and she even wandered to the cook house some mornings to help Missy peel potatoes.
“I don’t know if you're trying to punish your alpha or yourself,” Missy commented.
“What would you do if you were me?” Desiree asked pointedly.
“I don’t know. Knock him over the head a few times probably.”
Desiree laughed imagining that for herself.