Christian shrugs like this isn’t a big deal. This would havebankrupted me, but for him this is barely a dent. Barely ascratch!“Open it,” he grabs the large Oscar de la Rena box and slides it over to me, “this is your dress.”
I stammer and trace the box with my fingertips. “Christian, I can’t.”
Tears drip and my throat is tight. I think about the jar we had with sloppy handwriting. In sharpie it said,house jar.We saved everything we had to pay rent, to buy a house one day, to put ourselves through college. And now…he’s here giving me all of this and I don’t know what to do with all of it. But as much as I hated the handout from his mother, I can’t say I’m not grateful because it got me this house and my business—even if Christian doesn’t know.
“Open it, baby, please.”
I blink, the tears falling, and open the box. “Oh my god,” I gasp. “Christian, oh my god.”
His hands are cupping the back of my thighs and it’s the only thing keeping me steady. My eyes flit to his face and he’s beaming, a beautiful grin on his lips. “Do you like the color? It was between this and an emerald green but… this one… I know you’re going to look gorgeous.”
Scared to grab it, I just brush my fingertips over the fabric of the delicate, silky gown. “This is one of your favorite colors, Christian.”
I love when he wants me to wear his favorite colors.
“And it’s one of my favorite colors on you.”
I chuckle. Ruby red is a good color on me, I’ll admit. Against my skin tone and with my brown hair, I find it as flattering as Christian does. I just never imagined a dress like this—silkruby red, just like his birthstone.
With shaky hands, I remove it from the box and watch the gown unfold like liquid. A strapless, subtle sweeping necklineand draped off-the shoulder short sleeves. The strapless bodice is slimmer than the rest of the gown, and I know nothing about fashion, but this is a masterpiece.
“Do you like it?”
I nod. And nod again faster. “Christian this is… this is beautiful.”
“And now for your shoes,” he says, and pulls the boxes in front of me. Gucci, Jimmy Choo, and Tom Ford boxes. Christian takes the dress from my hands and somehow manages to fold it back together the delicate way it came into the box.
I open the Gucci box first. “Christian!”
He laughs softly at my side. “Yes?”
Black leather boots with a heel, crystals embellished on the sides with the logo of the two G’s. I turn one of them over in my hand, touching the leather with the other. “Okay, these I like.”
Christian kisses my cheek. “Open the rest, Lana. We have a lot to get through.”
And the Jimmy Choo heels, glittered with a bow on the back. Two Tom Ford heel sandals, one black and the other gold.
Another Oscar de la Renta—mini dress with a floral design and crystals. A Carolina Herrera sleeveless black bubble mini dress. Another YSL crossbody bag, but in burgundy—these are slowly becoming my favorite purses. MiuMiu heels. Four pairs of Prada sunglasses, in different shapes and colors, that I amobsessedwith and will wear everyday for the rest of my life. A Valentino dress with cutouts at the waist trimmed with little rhinestones or something, I don’t know. But everything is beautiful. I need to be buried with all of it.
Finally, Christian pulls the last box toward me. “Last one.”
The last box—La Perla.I know them all too well because Ialways perused their website, added stuff into my cart, but could never afford it. I open the box and grin, Christian’s hand around my waist tightening and he kisses my bare shoulder.
“I love these,” I say. Orange, blue, yellow, red, pink, purple, and green sets. “How did you know?”
“I caught you scrolling the other night.”
I snort. “Of course.”
“Do you like everything?”
I drop the lingerie in the box and turn, my arms wrapping around his neck. “I love it all.”
Christian kisses me softly. “I tried to pick simple things.”
“Simple?”
He laughs. “Please come with me to New York.”
