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“Okay, this is amazing.” She hums happily, sucking on the pale yellow straw.

“It’s barely sixty degrees, and yet you ordered a slushie.”

“It could be twenty degrees, and I still would’ve ordered it.”

“Of course, you would’ve.” I hold my elbow out and wait for her to grasp it.

Her small fingers loop around my arm, and I tug her closer, keeping us side by side as we lazily walk down the street. The sunny weather brought everyone out, clogging up the sidewalks as they bask in the rays.

After a few minutes, I direct us into a department store. Verity is so distracted by telling me about the drama on the latestManhattan Millionsepisode she watched that she doesn’t realize where we are until the air-conditioned interior blasts around us.

Her feet halt, dragging on the tiles.

“Cullen.”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing in here?”

“I thought we could take a little break from the heat.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Says the man who complained that it wasonlysixty degrees.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shrug, placing my hand on hers and keeping her grip securely on my arm so I can continue pulling her through the various displays of makeup to the escalators.

Despite her protests, Verity allows me to lead her up three flights of escalators to the second-highest level of the department store. The right half of the floor is filled with designer brands, their latest collections dripping from various mannequins.

“Cullen, seriously. I talked to Hannah about this last night. She is going to take me to this boutique out in Brooklyn that has really good prices. We don’t need to shop here.”

“Just humor me, okay? I need to look for a suit for myself, anyway.”

I don’t. I already have enough suits in my wardrobe, including two custom-tailored pieces, but I figure it will help Verity if she thinks this endeavor isn’t solely focused on her.

She lets a frustrated huff out through her nose, but her eyes start to wander around the floor.

“I guess it can’t hurt to get a little inspiration.”

“That’s the spirit.”

She’s hesitant at first, using just her eyes to scan the different brands displayed on the floor. She stops in front of a few of the mannequins, giving them a thoughtful appraisal before moving on to the next. After about ten minutes, her reservations start to slip away. She begins to run her hands along the clothing racks, pushing hangers aside and pulling out a few dresses that catch her eye. She doesn’t keep any in her hand, always replacing them on the rack before continuing on.

I take note of every piece she picks up while she is distracted by the next dress that catches her eye.

Verity finishes her slushie, an empty hiss coming out of the straw as she sucks on the last few icy chunks. I reach out to take the plastic cup from her.

“Here, let me throw that away for you.”

“Thanks.” She goes back to sorting through the dresses by a particular French designer that have caught her eye. Out of all the ones she’s looked at so far, she seems most drawn to his satin gowns.

I leave her be, searching for a place to trash our empty coffee cups—which seems to be awfully complicated. There doesn’t appear to be a single trash can anywhere.

It’s not until I locate one of the cashier desks that I ask the bored woman working it if I can dispose of them in the small wastebasket by her feet. She seems to mull it over for a moment before nudging the can with her kitten heel so I can drop the empty cups inside. She gives me a lifeless smile as I thank her.

I weave back through the racks, finding Verity exactly where I left her. She has a floor-length midnight blue gown in her hands, fingers trailing over the beaded bodice in adoration. The soft smile on her lips squeezes my chest, and I know that must be the one for her.

She catches the price tag, flipping it over and wincing. With one last adoring glance, she places the dress back on the rack.

I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my hands on the center of her stomach.