I shouldn’t be so happy over a fan. It’s just a fan. It’s just a little relief in a situation I could have easily ignored. But it’s not about the relief; it’s about the act itself. I was hot, and Jonah just... fixed it.
I didn’t have to ask him—he saw I was uncomfortable, and he…Why are there butterflies in my belly?
With skin back to a more pleasant level of moisture, Paula helps me into a variation of the first dress. Same high slit, silky black fabric, and structured bodice, and I stop breathing. I am genuinely stunned, not because the dress cinches me too tight. Instead of my boobs being on full display like a Vegas headliner, they’re tastefully framed, the fabric sweeping over one shoulder in a way that feels almost... regal. I’ve always avoided one-shoulder dresses—my tits are famously asymmetrical and usually need more targeted support. But this dress? The dress holds them perfectly, in harmony, as if it were made just for me.
“Renée,” Paula drawls with a smile and fluffs my skirt. “This is...”
“Perfect.” I finish. “How much is this?”
“He told me I couldn’t tell you.”
My eyes meet the back of my head.
She smiles. “Let’s show him.”
When I step out, I can’t help but match Jonah’s wide grin. He covers his mouth and bites his knuckles when I step onto the platform. “Come on,” he exclaims. “This has to bethe one, right? Oh my God, I can’t even look at you, you’re too pretty.”
My dumb heart races like a schoolgirl who holds a valentine and a pink carnation from her secret crush she’s been writing about in her diary.
How dare he do this to me?
But I do feel pretty. With sweaty, coiled strands of hair springing around my neck, I feelsodamn pretty.
“I love it.”
Marveling, Jonah stands beside me, and even though I’m standing six inches up, he still has at least another six inches on me. “I love it too,” he says. “But if you can’t decide which one, we can get them all.”
A surprising little giggle bursts from me. “You are not buying me more than one dress.”
“Please?” he begs.
“No,” I say in a firm but well-meaning tone.
“Is this the one?” Paula asks.
“Yes, I think it is. It just depends on whether they can alter it fast enough. I need it by next Friday.”
Paula grimaces. “Oh, alterations usually take a month, but we can always add a rush charge—”
“Do that,” Jonah says, cutting her off. “Whatever it costs, as long as she has the dress by next Friday.”
Within twenty minutes, I’m measured, and the dress is marked and pinned until the in-house tailor and I are both satisfied with the new length and adjustments. By the time I’m done with them, Jonah is waiting for me at the front of the store with a grin.
“Are we all paid up?”
“It’s all taken care of,” he says. He holds the door open for me. “Now let’s go get you some new shoes and a lingerie set.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
He gasps. “Professor Wilde, that’s a bad word.”
“You’re not buying me lingerie. We agreed on a dress and my hair.”
“We agreed on an outfit,” he argues.
“What’s the point of buying me lingerie if you’re never going to see it?”
He taps his temple and narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll know you’re wearing it under that dress.”
