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"Heard you were all alone again." Gigi prances in.

I sit up. I'm only wearing Antonio's shirt—again. I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. Just like Antonio, there's something special about Gigi that makes me like her and feel like we've been friends for a long time.

"I am," I grin at Gigi. "Thanks for coming over."

She looks around the room and walks into the short hallway that dividesHisandHersclosets. Antonio's is fully loaded; theHersside doesn’t even have a fleck of dust inside it.

"Still no clothes, huh?" Gigi returns.

I shake my head. "We were going to, but he got called away."

She turns to the still-open door to the bedroom, "Mattheo, come in."

One of Antonio's bodyguards enters, carrying two suitcases. "Since, for whatever reason, you can't go to the store, I got you some stuff."

"You did?" I sit up straighter, moving out of bed. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugs, "Ask my brother, shopping is my calling!"

She waves at Mattheo to open the first suitcase on the trunk at the end of the bed. A small squeal escapes me as I stare at a plethora of cosmetics. "Oh my God, you didn't!"

"I wasn't sure what you like to use, and I had to guess for some of the colors, but this should tide you over until my ass of a brother finally does take you shopping." She snaps her finger, and Mattheo follows suit with the second suitcase. Then she waves him out. Fascinated, I try to digest the quick interaction. It was rude, but Mattheo didn't seem to mind; he even grinned while he closed the door.

All thoughts of Mattheo vanish when I stare at the clothes. "Gigi!"

I hold out a pair of designer jeans with their price sticker still on it, eleven hundred eighty dollars.

"Is that dollars, as in US dollars?" I ask.

"Oh, Scar," she tsks, "you really need to let go of price tags. My brother can afford it, trust me."

Impulsively, I throw my arms around her. "Thank you, Gigi. This is so thoughtful."

"Ah," she waves her hand, "careful, you're gonna make me cry. And then what will happen to my makeup?" She waves me off.

"Well, you can always freshen it up; I happen to have a bunch of it," I reply, laughing.

"Honestly, do you like it?"

"Hell yeah," I turn to the makeup, swallow my reservations about price tags, and look through the collections of skin creams, exfoliators, moisturizers, serums… a black glass bottle catchesmy eye, and I swallow again.Let go of the price tag, Scar, let go.I hold it up like it's the holy grail. I mean, itisthe holy grail of skincare, according to all the articles I’ve read, starting at eight hundred dollars a bottle. I've seen it once at a beauty counter and even tried it. But hell, eight hundred dollars? For a serum?

"You like it?"

"Gigi, I love it," I tell her, honestly overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say."

She shrugs. "Thank you?"

"Thank you." I grin at her.

"It wasn't all me," she confesses. “Toni might have sent me a text asking me to get you some stuff. But it was fun, so much fun." She shakes her long black tresses and glides her fingers through them. "I think if I ever did have to work, I could be a personal shopper for someone."

Someone who has a lot of money, my practical mind shouts, but I shut it up. What Gigi and Toni did was sweet and thoughtful. I wipe a small tear from the corner of my eye. This morning has been way too emotional for me.

"Ah, don't cry; you're gonna make me cry," Gigi complains.

I sniff and hug her again. "Thank you."

"Alright, that's enough. Come on, get dressed, and I’ll show you what I got."