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“Okay. What about this?” Sophie displayed her sketch pad so everyone could see it. “We have a jumpsuit in this shade of cream,” she tugged on the sleeve of Everly’s shirt, “that I think would be incredible on you. It comes standard at a crop length with short sleeves, but I feel like if we made it wide-legged and sleeveless, it would give that perfect balance of volume and structure.”
Everly’s eyes roamed the page, already picturing herself in the outfit at work. Except she wouldn’t be sitting at the reception desk. She’d be in an art department somewhere. Because the Everly who wore that jumpsuit was not afraid to go after the job she wanted.
“I love it. It looks like something an artist would wear.” Everly’s voice was whisper soft. Amazed. Somehow, the thought of letting her profession inform her style had never occurred to her. But if she came into a meeting in that outfit, everyone would immediately know she did something creative. It was like another kind of advertising.
“Precisely.” Jazzy hooked her arm around Everly’s neck and gave her a squeeze. That pride was in her face again, like she could sense Everly surrendering to the process.
After seeing a few more of Sophie’s custom designs, Everly shook her head. “Where have you been every time I’ve gone shopping?”
Sophie laughed. “I’m down any time you want to go.”
“Wait. Seriously?” Heat attacked Everly’s cheeks. She hated how trying to make friends as an adult conjured the same terror as inviting everyone to your birthday party in first grade and being convinced no one would come. She should know how to do this by now; she’d had decades of practice.
“Absolutely. I need more artists in my life.” Sophie entered Everly’s number into her phone, then bent to retrieve one of the rejected garments that had fallen off the hanger. “Plus, anything we find that doesn’t fit, I can alter.” With a playful wink, she disappeared back into the showroom.
It was another hour before they finished going through Everly’s selections and moved on to Jazzy’s.
The first option was a short, bright orange dress, hitting Everly mid-thigh, with three voluminous layers of skirt, a banded chest, and puffy sleeves.
She couldn’t keep the horror off her face as she stared into the mirror. Thank god Jazzy had hung back to organize some outfits in the fitting room.
“I look like Grimace.” Everly fluffed the skirt out to really emphasize its layers.
Logan’s mouth twitched, like he was trying hard not to react to this monstrosity on her body. “Who?”
“That Philadelphia hockey mascot.”
His boisterous laugh echoed off the walls. These rare moments of levity were catnip for her. Everly’s body went soft and loose. She wanted to roll around in his joy. In him.
“You mean Gritty.”
“Right, that guy.” She blew out an exaggerated breath. “I look like Gritty on prom night.”
His second laugh was even louder.
They were alone. Everly crept to the edge of the raised platform so she was standing above him, about a head taller. She felt like King Midas. Or one of the twenty billionaires trying to shoot themselves into space. His smiles, his laughs, they were richer than any gold.
She settled her palms lightly on his cheeks and let her fingers explore his beard. She loved how it was rough and soft at the same time, how thebristles tickled her cheeks when they kissed. His hands wandered over the dress’s many layers, finally catching them in a gentle fist and urging her toward him.
Their kiss was soft and sweet, mouths closed, only a second long, but it sent a jolt of heat through her limbs.
She wanted to kiss him a hundred more times, but there were too many prying eyes, too many cameras. These soft moments weren’t for any audience. And they weren’t for Sady.
They were theirs alone.
He cupped her face, keeping her close as their lips parted. “What are you doing later?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Pizza and a book?”
“What about better pizza and hanging out with some dogs?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What makes you assume your pizza will be better?”
“Is that a yes?”
Nodding, she kissed him again, no more than a brush of their mouths, before stepping down from the mirrors.
As she turned away, he said, “Please don’t wear Gritty.”
