“To spend howIlike. If you had wads of cash and I had none, would you treat me to something nice?”
“Of course… I…shit. I see what you did there. Alright, on your head be it. And if I bankrupt you, it’s your fault.”
“Champagne?” the manager asks, dollar signs flashing behind her eyes.
“We’ll take the bottle.”
Max and I flop on a low sofa while Willow and Theo start pawing through the racks. The manager snaps her fingers at a saleswoman to help. “She’ll need something with lots of color,” I call over. “Don’t think of trying to make my girl drab.”
“Sparkles for Sparkle Princess,” Max adds. “Definitely sparkles.”
The resulting pile of dresses that head to the changing room look like a Lisa Frank fever dream, but Theo’s grin is a mile wide.
The only downer is her friend, who is picking out all kinds of grandma frocks.
“I thought you wanted to bang Naomi Wats-her-face,” I say, clicking my fingers impatiently. “You’re currently giving me Hilary Clinton vibes.”
She gives me a ‘wahhh’ face.
“He’s not wrong,” Max chimes in. “Get a red dress which shows lots of tits, that will get you the W. And in this case, the W stands for Woman pussy.”
I laugh, and Willow throws a shoe at Max.
Luckily, Theo peeks her head around the curtain and interjects. “You would look great in red, Wills, and your cleavage is gorge.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll try one thing like that, but I really think I should go for this brown lace.”
Max makes a gagging noise, which perfectly sums up how I feel about that particular piece of clothing.
After another twenty minutes, Theo comes out to show us a two-piece. Can I say—show stopper?
“I like this,” she says softly, admiring herself in the long mirror and smoothing her hands over the fabric of the skirt. Yep, I like it too.
A fucking lot.
The top piece is a hot-pink bandeau, which shows off Tee’s tummy perfectly. It’s paired with a huge, sweeping floor-length skirt made up of every color you can think of. The fabric hasa subtle glitter to it (and excitingly, there is a thigh-length slit. I can just imagine slipping my hand inside the folds of all that fabric to find the folds of her….)
“Bro, you’re drooling,” Max jabs me.
Theo blushes, then yells at her friend. “Show us what you got, Wills.”
Willow pushes her curtain aside, and I pat myself on the back.
“Ten out of ten,” I tell the girls, then I nod to the manager. “We’ll take them both.”
I hand over a card, and Willow starts spluttering.
“Nah, you’re doing me a favor, Wills. Tee really can’t complain about me getting her a dress if I buy yours too. Now go get changed, ladies. Shoes are up next.”
“How come you’re so good at this kind of thing?” Theo asks me as we’re wandering down the boulevard fifteen minutes later.
I wish I could tell her it was because of all the bonding times I’d had with my mother, but obviously that’s not the case. “Our family, and Cosmo’s, are all from Southernhampton. It’s old school South Havengard; think cotillions and debutante balls. Charity galas every weekend. The Harts have been part of that high society for centuries; it’s in my blood.”
“I can’t even imagine what that kind of life is like,” Theo says, squeezing my hand.
“Boring,” I tell her. “All the same families trying to inter-marry to keep the bloodlines blue, and all that bullshit. Though my Father mixed it up when he married my mother, aHartmarrying ascientistof all things—oh the scandal!”
“Was he head-over-heels in love?”
