“It won't be hard to find you something here.” He chuckles watching me from head to toe.
Sebastian and Nate share a look I can’t quite catch—Sebastian leans into Nate and murmurs something in a different language. Nate rolls his eyes, but there’s a light in them I haven’t seen before.
Once the laughter settles, Derek claps his hands. “All right. Let’s get these suits sorted. Royalty doesn’t dress itself.”
Within minutes, two racks of tailored suits are rolled out, and Sebastian ducks into one of the private rooms.
The next hour is a mix of silk, charcoal grays, deep navy blues, and champagne toasts. Nate ends up in front of us in at least five different suits.
Sebastian and I sit on a long white couch sipping from delicate flutes, offering unsolicited fashion advice.
“That tie makes him look like a funeral director,” I whisper behind my glass.
Sebastian grins. “Agreed. You’d think with a face like that, it’d be easier.”
“I can hear you both,” Nate calls from inside.
“That’s the point,” I tease.
“I do have my uniform, I don’t understand why all of this is necessary.”
“Part of the experience.” Derek winks at us.
For a moment, the laughter quiets. I feel Sebastian’s eyes on me again—he studies me like he’s reading a page I haven’t written yet.
“Does he know?” he asks quietly.
I blink. “Know what?”
“That you fell for him.”
My chest tightens. I try to deflect. “I agreed to marry him. I think it’s implied.”
“But have you told him?” Sebastian presses gently, eyes still soft.
I hesitate, swirling the champagne. “No.”
“You should.” His tone is gentle, but firm. “Men like Nate… they don’t assume. They hope.”
I glance at Nate, laughing with Derek now, and suddenly the idea of telling him everything I feel doesn’t feel so terrifying. It feels… right. Fear, though, creeps in.
When the suits are packed and Sebastian's final fitting is declared ‘acceptable by royal standards,’ Derek turns to me.
“Now,” he claps his hands, “let’s talk about the bride.” Derek smirks, motioning me toward the changing room. “Come, darling. Let’s see what dreams you didn’t know you had.”
Inside the plush fitting room, the light is soft, the mirror enormous, the walls an elegant blush. An assistant gently helps me out of my coat.
“What do you envision for your wedding dress?” Derek asks from outside.
“I…” I hesitate. “I never really dreamed about my wedding.”
A long pause. Then Derek’s voice shifts—quiet and serious. “Good. Then you have no limits.”
“I like the way you see it.” I try to smile, but there’s a slight tremble at the edge of it.
“I’ll send you some options. You can try a few on. How does that sound?”
There’s something so genuine in the way he says it. Like this fake engagement is suddenly realer than it should be. Like he actually wants to see me in one.
