I wasn’t proud of it, but while Catherine changed into the second dress, I scrolled through the pictures I’d taken of her in the first one—again and again. I told myself it was for comparison. That I was being helpful.
Truth? I just wanted to look at her.
The way her face softened under the lights. The way her posture shifted into something quietly regal. The way her expression, just for a moment, looked like she believed this was real. I could still feel the ghost of her kiss on my mouth. This was getting dangerous.
“You ready?” she called from behind the curtain. I nearly dropped my phone.
“Yeah,” I croaked, sitting up straighter. When the curtain pulled back, I stopped breathing again. The second dress was even better. Simpler lines, elegant cut, perfect fit. She turned to show the back, and I had to lock my jaw from dropping again.
“Yeah… you’re beautiful,” I said, too honest to take it back. She smiled, and I saw the flicker of pride in her eyes—the kind she didn’t show as a secretary or even as a socialite. This was her. Real, vulnerable, radiant.
“Which one do you like more?” she asked. I pulled my phone up like a shield and started snapping more photos.
“I think this one. It’s simpler.” And yet, you look like you stepped out of a dream. She agreed, then ducked behind the curtain to try on the third and final dress. I leaned back, closing my eyes. Focus, Jacob. This is a show. A temporary play for legacy points. Don’t be an idiot.
But I wanted her to try on another 50 dresses. I wanted to sit there all afternoon watching her emerge like a different fairytale every time and that terrified me.
When the curtain opened for the last dress, I swear time slowed down.
“This is the one,” she said, her voice gentler. She wasn’t wrong. It was perfect. Clean neckline. Soft shimmer. A silhouette that hugged her just right. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—it was hers. I stood without even thinking.
“I love it,” I said. “This is the one.” She nodded, and the staff excused themselves, giving us a moment.
“You really love it?” she asked again, softer this time.
I nodded. “It’s elegant. Simple. And… you.” She blushed. She actually blushed.
God help me. I placed my hands on her waist. Her skin was warm under the fabric. Our eyes met, and I didn’t think. I just kissed her. Because I couldn’t not kiss her. Her arms looped around my neck and she kissed me back, deeper. She moaned my name and I lost any last shred of restraint I had.
“Jacob,” she murmured. “We have to stop. I need to change.” I didn’t let go. I kissed her again.
“You’ll ruin the dress,” she warned with a smirk. That made me pull away—just long enough to grab my phone and take one last picture. A timestamp for this moment I wasn’t ready to let go of.
“Can you call Anny?” she asked as she headed for the fitting room.
“Nope.”
“Jacob!” she hissed. “Don’t make me kick your ass.” I laughed and finally went to get Anny. Catherine came out a few minutes later in her regular clothes. I couldn’t look at her without remembering how she looked ten minutes ago. We booked the dress, and I paid for it before she could protest.
She stared at me. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I said, brushing it off. She walked out ahead of me, holding the paperwork. The sun had started to dip, and the light hit her in that way again—that quiet glow that made my stomach twist.
“Where to next?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay casual. She looked at me strangely. Not angry. Not teasing. Just... unreadable.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she muttered. We got into the car. Buckled in and silence filled the room.
Then she smirked. “You really liked the dress, huh? Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
I grinned. “You look ravishing.”
“Ravishing?” she repeated. “Nice vocabulary, Mr. Williams.”
I leaned toward her, playful. “Want to pick up where we left off?”
Her eyes widened. “Pervert.”
“I’m a man,” I said with a shrug. “Don’t blame me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just drive. I’m starving.” I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. We were pretending, but every day…
…it felt less like an act and more like something I didn’t want to end.