I slip inside the changing room, clutching the jackets tightly. The mirror is too bright, too honest. I tug one on, the sleeves hanging long past my hands, and I almost laugh. I look like a kid playing dress-up.
Through the thin curtain, I hear Shadow clear his throat. “You good in there?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.” My voice wobbles, so I force it steadier. “Just . . . trying it on.”
I push the curtain back a fraction. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms folded, oozing sexiness. I glance around, noting the assistants are now whispering from behind the counter, glancing our way every few seconds.
“What do you think?” I ask, embarrassed.
His mouth curves into a grin. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “It’s too big.”
“So, we size down.” He shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’re still beautiful.”
The assistants exchange a look, their irritation obvious now. I should feel smug. Instead, guilt gnaws at me. He doesn’t seewhat they see. He doesn’t see what I see in the mirror—a girl out of her depth, clinging to something she can’t keep.
I yank the curtain shut again, biting my lip. My chest feels too tight.
“Rem?” His voice is gentle, patient.
“I’ll take it,” I call out quickly, because if I don’t say something, I might break.
“Good,” he says, satisfied.
As if the experience with the bitchy assistants wasn’t bad enough, we step into the next shop and it’s just as ridiculous. There are rows and rows of gleaming heels, leather boots that probably cost more than I’ve ever had in my bank account, and trainers displayed like artwork. The air smells of polish and money, and I instantly feel like an imposter again.
“Is this all necessary?” I mutter, hovering near the doorway like the floor might bite. “I can find a perfectly good pair at the charity shop.”
Shadow stops dead then turns. His eyes pin me, steady and unyielding. “Every woman deserves a decent pair of shoes, Rem.”
Before I can argue, his fingers lace through mine and he pulls me farther inside. Heads turn instantly—staff, shoppers, everyone—but he doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.
A saleswoman zeroes in, her smile bright and false. “Can I help you?” Her gaze flicks to me once before locking onto Shadow, like I’m just the inconvenient baggage he dragged in.
He doesn’t even glance her way. He squeezes my hand instead. “Yeah,” he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “She needs shoes. Whatever she wants, she gets.”
Heat creeps up my neck. The saleswoman blinks, clearly wrong-footed, but forces her smile wider. “Of course. Right this way.”
She leads us deeper into the shop, and I can feel eyes on us. Onhim.I know what they’re thinking, that he’s out of my league.They’re right.He could have anyone. The girls behind the counter would line up for him if he crooked a finger.
But he doesn’t even look at them. He’s looking at me, his thumb brushing slow circles against the back of my hand like I’m the only one in the room. And that’s somehow worse because it makes me want to believe it. “Is it for any particular occasion?” she asks, pointing to a seat. I lower, looking at Shadow for guidance.
“She needs trainers, some comfortable shoes, and maybe some boots.” His eyes scan the shop. “Something winter-proof.”
“Shadow, I don’t need three pairs of footwear,” I mutter.
Without warning, he lowers, his hand gently rests against my throat as he tugs me close. His lips practically brush mine as he says, “Logan. My name is Logan.”
I shiver involuntary. “Logan,” I whisper, sounding breathless.
“Better,” he says, kissing me on the lips before pulling back.
My cheeks are burning, and I glance around, noticing eyes still on us. Wishful glances, breathy sighs, and when I finally look at the shop assistant, she’s fanning her face. “I’m a four,” I mutter, biting my lower lip to stop the smile threatening to break free.
“Of course,” she says, flustered as she rushes off.
“Don’t do that again,” I whisper.
