“Since when did blue and brown go together?”
“Since 2020.”
He hissed out a breath and stared mournfully at the blue silk suit he’d hung on his bathroom door and the loafers Luc had paired with them.
Because he seemed completely lost, I sighed. “What is it, Dad?”
He peeped at me. “I want to look nice for her.”
“And you will. Luc wouldn’t steer you wrong.” I glanced at my watch, hoping the gesture would distract him. “Thank you for this, by the way.”
His shoulders straightened. “You like it?”
Relieved, I smiled at him. “I do.” And I did.
I had a feeling Lena had helped him pick it out, but I’d take it—it was a very pretty, slimline Patek Philippe. But even better, it was vintage. I liked that it had character, and I liked even more that they’d both worked out that I’d changed.
The Jen of before had wanted everything shiny. I’d been a magpie for brands and designers. Now, I needed something else. Luciu had given me expensive tastes too.
“I’m glad, honey.” His gaze softened. “What did that boy get you?”
“He’s not a boy, Dad.”
“He is to me!”
I tutted. “He bought me a yacht.”
“Christ Almighty—a boat?! He bought you a boat?”
“A yacht,” I corrected with a dry smile. “It’s moored in Monaco. It’s where we becameofficial.”
“Official? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never you mind.”
“So you haven’t seen it?”
“Only pictures. We’re in Catania.”
“You’re still okay with us coming, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Just don’t flirt with Lauren. I don’t want to be tending to your cheeks when Luc and Stan cut them to shreds. You don’t even want to know what Rory’ll do to you.”
“I’ll be bringing Lena! Of course I wouldn’t flirt in front of her. She’d have my balls, never mind my cheeks.”
“I don’t get why you like her so much. Not unless you’re a masochist.”
“A maso-what-now?”
“Like pain.”
He rubbed his chin. “Like Evel Knievel?”
“No.” I heaved a sigh. “Never mind. Look, is your fashion crisis over? Can I get onto clothing my babies for the day?!”
“You sure about the brown and blue?”
“Deadly.”
