The sun is shining, I’m ahead of schedule at work, and my very sexy, veryfor realboyfriend surprised me with a late afternoon shopping trip.Andhe came bearing a cappuccino.
I’m a lucky woman.
So why do I wish I were anywhere but Anton’s Exclusive Menswear?
I’m generally a fan of shopping of any kind, and the fact that Nix took the initiative to make sure he’s appropriately dressed for Teddy’s wedding is next-level boyfriend shit.
But as the tailor measures his inseam for the third time, marking the fabric with quick, precise movements, my stomach cramps. And I can’t seem to get comfortable on the velvet bench by the window, no matter how many times I cross and re-cross my legs.
Nix catches my eye over his shoulder in the three-way mirror. “You okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Great.”
“What do you think? Is this it?” He extends his arms, showing off the full look—seal gray pants and a matching suit jacket that are stunning.
But for some reason…
I wrinkle my nose apologetically. “I don’t know. The pants are perfect, but I’m not completely sold on the jacket. Maybe try one of the others? Or just the vest with the off-white dress shirt?”
“Sure thing, boss.” He shoots me a wink in the mirror before thanking the tailor and popping back into the changing room without another word.
No debate about why his taste in fashion is superior to mine, even though I’ve been on more “best dressed” society pages than his entire law office combined. No lecture about how the cut of the other jacket I picked out makes his legs appear weirdly short.
Just a wink and a smile, like my opinion is the only one that matters.
Back in the dark days of helping Teddy shop for his firm’s annual charity gala every November, this was the energy I longed for. I just wanted my man to trust me, to care more about whatIthought about his appearance than the corporate dude bros at his office.
Now, I have that, but I’mstillnot happy.
Why?
What’s wrong with me?
Before I can pinpoint the source of my irritation—Not enough protein with lunch? Something I forgot to write on my calendar for next week?—the changing room door opens, and my jaw drops.
Holy hell…
Holy Saint Sebastian, patron saint of hot men and fine asses (at least according to my gay guy friends).
He looks…
He’s just…
“Better?” he asks, a glitter in his gaze that makes it obvious he knows just how delicious he looks.
I force my mouth shut and nod, letting my wide, slightly lecherous grin do the talking for me. Nix laughs in response, his eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes me want to drag him back into the changing room and devour him whole because damn…
Damn.
In the linen shirt I selected and a fitted charcoal suit vest that cuts in at the perfect angle, his shoulders look impossibly broad. His waist is snatched, his gorgeously round backside is out for show-and-tell—no suit jacket flaps to hide the glutes he spends hours toning in the gym—and his already long legs somehow look even longer.
If Teddy were here, he’d be seething with jealousy.
Hewill beseething with jealousy, I realize, in just a little over a week, when I walk into his wedding with the hottest man in New Orleans on my arm.
No sooner has the thought drifted through my head than the cranky, unsettled feeling returns, making me rub at my suddenly tight jaw as the tailor circles him again.
“Just a slight tuck at the shoulders,” he says, nodding his approval. “We can take care of this and the pants in an hour if you’d like to come back around…five-thirty to pick them up before we close? Or we can hold it for you to collect later. We’re open Monday through Saturday, ten to six.”
