Zora Monet Laguerre.
She's like a walking Barbie doll. Her hair and nails are
always done. Her outfits are always in season with the perfect designer shoes and bag to match.
She's perfect. Everything about her from head to toe is just, well- per...
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April 3, 2019 Pasadena, CA
It was the evening after their very spontaneous Vegas marriage, and still, Zora couldn't believe it was real. She couldn't believe she really did something like that. Nothing was technically different, besides the fact that her last name is now hyphenated and she has a legal certificate of marriage to prove it-- but it just felt completely different to her. And no one except the people that were there know, which is how they wanted to keep things. At least for a little while until people inevitably start inquiring about the hard-to-miss rock on Zora's finger.
The night they got married though, they'd gotten so drunk celebrating. They'd somehow managed to get back to their suite just to completely pass out. And then the next morning, they were too focused on getting 15 people's flight plans arranged to head back to California to think about much else.
But they were home now— in their home. Because two months ago, Zora had asked Ritchie to move in with her, and of course, she said yes. Before that though, Zora was considering selling her house and the land it was on, but both Ritchie and Adeline talked her out of it. Ten acres of land is a massive amount of real estate to own and a great investment to even think about selling it at such a young age. That land was inherited from her grandfather, so it would be pretty stupid to not keep it.
Currently, though, the two of them were in the kitchen. Ritchie was sitting at the island with her MacBook, replying to work emails (the part of her job she hates the most), and scheduling meetings with various managers and artists she's currently working with. And Zora was washing the dishes she created from the raspberry cheesecake cookies she had in the oven.
They hadn't said anything to each other in a while, and it was completely silent besides the sound of Ritchie's long fingernails hitting against her keyboard, the water coming from the sink, whatever song Zora was humming along to in her head, and then the timer going off to remind Zora to take the cookies out of the oven.
Zora was wearing a short silk nightgown, and Ritchie couldn't help but watch her as she bent over in front of the oven because it was extremely obvious she wasn't wearing any panties under it. And if she was, it was doing a very poor job of covering anything up. And Zora knew Ritchie's eyes were on her, but she didn't care because she was doing her own little thing. She just focused on transferring her cookies to a cooling rack so they wouldn't continue to cook on the warm baking sheet. And when she was done, that's when she went over to bother Ritchie, for no reason other than because she wanted to.
"What?" Ritchie looked up from her MacBook when she felt Zora's eyes staring at her from across the island.
"Nothing," Zora walked around the counter and went to stand next to her. "I just still can't believe we're really married. Like what the fuck Ritchie?"
"I can believe it," Ritchie turned in the chair, so she was facing Zora, and pulled her in by her waist. "What I can't believe is that it was your idea to get married— and in Vegas of all places. I could've confidently put a million dollars on that bet and lost like hell."
