I feel...beautiful.
In the reflection, I can see Colt grinning at me. The amusement playing on his face before has become a proud softness, and he leans forward to brace his elbow on his knee as he takes a sip from his glass.
“You’re breathtaking,” he tells me. “That dress was made for you.”
He sets his glass on the table, stands, and steps behind me, then places his hands on my sides and makes eye contact with me in the mirror.
“It’s gorgeous, but I’m not getting it,” I tell him.
“And why not?”
“It’s got to be thousands of dollars.”
“I would hope so,” he laughs.
“Colt.” I turn to face him. “It’s too much. I don’t—I’m not interested in your money.”
“I know you aren’t,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Which is why I’m happy to spend it on you.”
He calls the young man back over to us and points toward me, then to several dresses on the rack. I have noidea what he’s saying, but it sounds to my untrained ear like he’s speaking fluent Italian, and their conversation seems to flow as if he’s a local.
I wonder how often he comes here.
The nice young man slips all of the dresses off of the rack and drapes them over his arm, taking them with him as he walks away. I step behind the curtain to change back into my own clothes, then follow Colt to the register, guilt and a feeling of unworthiness washing over me each step we take closer.
Colt takes the red dress from my arms and hands it to the same man who has been helping us all day and I watch as he scans all of the dresses that he’d brought out. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I watch the number on the register climb. It’s nearly seventy thousand dollars by the time they’re rung up; I want to be sick.
“Colt, you—”
His hand comes up to cover my mouth, effectively silencing me. “You deserve nice things, Rowan,” he tells me, his honey eyes locked on mine with a deadly seriousness. “Let me get nice things for you.”
I bite my tongue as he swipes his credit card through the reader, even as my skin burns with guilt over him spending almost three years of my wages in a single transaction, all of it just for me to have some pretty dresses I don’t even have occasions for which to wear.
We stop at a small café for a late lunch and a rest before making our way back to the car so we can be dropped back at the hotel.
I plop down backward onto the bed, landing with my arms splayed out, and Colt steps in front of me, pulling his sweater over his head.
“Are you up for an outing tonight?” He asks.
“What kind?”
“The kind where beautiful women have an excuse to wear their pretty new dresses,” he smirks, waggling his brows at me.
I prop myself up on my elbows and arch a brow at him. “You planned something.”
Stepping closer until he’s standing between my legs, he purrs, “I’m always planning something.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Now get some rest. If you’re up for it, we’ll have dinner at seven and be on our way.”
“If I’m not?”
Without hesitation, he answers with a shrug, “Then we’ll order room service and watch movies.”
“I’ll be up for it,” I smile.
I don’t know if he knew that was a little bit of a test or not, but he passed it with flying colors regardless. I may not be able to rely on my own body, but I can rely on him, and that is worth cherishing.
I slide off of the bed, shimmy out of my jeans and reach into my suitcase for a pair of my compression stockings. As I slide them up my legs, I see Colt in the corner of my eye, pinching his lips together and putting his fingers over his mouth.
“What?” I laugh.
