He'd paired it with a light blue shirt that brought out the color in his eyes, the top button casually left open to reveal the hollow of his throat.
Gone was the awkward college student in borrowed clothes. In his place stood a young man who could easily pass for old money, the kind of effortless elegance that couldn't be bought, but somehow looked natural on him despite his background.
"Better?" Connor asked with innocent curiosity, turning to show the full effect.
Better?
Dear God.
My brain struggled to form a coherent response that wouldn't reveal just how much the sight of him affected me. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly parched.
"It'll do," I managed, my voice slightly hoarse despite my best efforts at nonchalance.
Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled by my feigned indifference. "Just 'it'll do'? That's not very enthusiastic for something that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe."
"Fine," I conceded. "You look... appropriate."
The understatement of the century.
Connor turned back toward the mirror, studying his reflection with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.
As he moved, my grandmother's wedding ring caught the light on his left hand—the simple gold band with its subtle engraving that had been in my family for generations.
I hadn't planned to give it to him. When we'd gone to the Civil Affairs Bureau, I'd intended to use one of my less meaningful rings—something expensive enough to be convincing but without sentimental value.
Yet when the moment came, I'd found myself reaching for my grandmother's ring instead, sliding it off my pinky finger and onto Connor's ring finger as if it belonged there.
Now, watching that ring gleam on his hand as he adjusted his cuffs, I felt a surge of possessiveness that caught me off guard. It marked him as mine—not just legally, but in a way that connected him to my family's history, to parts of my life I rarely shared with anyone.
What the hell is wrong with me?
"Should we get this one too?" Connor asked, gesturing to the outfit, oblivious to my internal struggle.
"Yes," I said, perhaps too quickly. "And the previous three. The navy suit especially."
"Are you sure? It seems like a lot—"
"Connor," I cut him off, "the amount we're spending today is what I used to spend on a single business dinner. It's fine."
He didn't look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. "Okay. I'll go change back."
As Connor disappeared back into the dressing room, I exhaled slowly, trying to regain my composure. This shopping trip was proving more challenging than I'd anticipated—not because of the expense, but because each new outfit revealed a different facet of the man I'd impulsively married. The confidentset of his shoulders in a well-cut jacket. The way his eyes lit up when he caught his reflection and momentarily forgot to be embarrassed about the cost.
I was seeing glimpses of who Connor could be if freed from financial constraints, and I found myself wanting to see more.
The sales associate approached with garment bags containing our previous selections. "Shall I add the current outfit to your purchases, Mr. Montgomery?"
"Yes, and have the alterations rushed. My husband will need these by the weekend."
My husband. The words still felt strange on my tongue, yet increasingly right.
Connor emerged a few minutes later, back in the clothes he'd worn to the store—still borrowed, but at least better fitting than what he'd had at the hotel.
"All set," he said, looking more relaxed now that he was out of the expensive outfit.
I nodded to the sales associate, who discreetly moved away to finalize our purchases. When we both reached for one of the smaller shopping bags simultaneously, our hands touched.
Instead of pulling away immediately, I let my fingers linger against Connor's, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt of awareness through me.
