Page 32

Chapter 32

Emilie

After I’m back in my own clothes and Zack is no longer pitching a pink tent, we’re at the front of the warehouse, each with our own “keeper rack” of things we’d like to purchase.

I love the dress—a one hundred percent yes—but the price on the sticker almost had me falling over. It’s hard to splurge on luxury items even when I know I can afford it. Getting the dress means probably putting everything back and not touching another clothing purchase for a month.

I’m looking at my keeper rack and rifling through the price tags when Zack says, “This is on me. Don’t worry about it.”

“No. You’re not buying me clothes.”

“Why not?” he shrugs. “This was my date idea, and I tempted you with all these beautiful clothes. Let me pay.”

Anxiety fills my gut. Guilt creeps into my cheeks. I feel bad for telling Zack no, but I’ll inherently feel terrible if I let him buy me what’s on the rack.

“I am a legit millionaire. Don’t want to brag,” he’s being sarcastic and trying to make me feel better, “but my contract extension last year was public.” He puts his hands in his pockets and closes the space between us.

I press my lips down hard enough on my teeth that I’m afraid I’ll taste copper .

“You’re already going to travel internationally for the wedding. It’s a lot to ask.”

Zack rolls his eyes. “You mean taking a long weekend trip with you? With beautiful weather? The beach? All-inclusive? That’s definitely not a lot to ask.”

I shake my head slowly, trying to find the words to help him understand. Zack is always so light, agreeable. He can make a joke out of anything, but I need him to know what this means to me.

“I have a thing about money, and I’ll spare you the details for another day. I’ll let you do this for me today, but this can’t be something you do all the time, ok?”

“Not to interrupt, but if there’s something wrong with the zipper on this,” Mia touches the dress, “we’ll get it fixed but it’s actually no cost. All I ask is that you tag the designer on any social media posts from the wedding,” she offers, her smile sweet.

Wow. The offer washes over me and I’m immediately thankful. “That’s really kind of you. I’d be happy to do that.”

“What about me? Any deals for me?” Zack asks.

She scoffs, “Mr. Millionaire? I think you’ll pay full price today.” She winks at him, and I can’t help but laugh and shake my head.

“Truffle fries are always the answer,” Zack says, dipping a fry in aioli and popping it in his mouth. “Plus, they taste better because you paid for them.”

We’re at one of our favorite burger spots in the city. It’s a hole in the wall, under the radar, and that’s how we like it. So much so I won’t let Zack post a selfie of us here. I don’t want to ruin this place.

I take a bite of my bacon brie cheeseburger, with granny apple slices and pickles, just as Zack’s phone rings.

“It’s my mom. Give me just a second.” He stands from the booth, answers it, and walks outside, right in front of the restaurant.

I try my best not to hog all of the French fries while he’s on the phone, which requires serious restraint on my part.

Instead, I think about the dressing room. I mean, let’s be real, I’m never going to forget what happened tonight. The date. Zack. Us fooling around, or almost, when we weren’t alone. That’s not my typical date behavior.

I’ve never been one to want someone so bad that you just let yourself give in, even if it’s only a little, when others may be around. But maybe it’s that I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want Zack.

The typical weirdness of being intimate with someone feels different between the two of us. In the situations where I’d typically be terrified to show parts of my body or wonder if this or that is the right thing to do, I’m thinking about how much I want more of him, of us. There’s no room for doubt or hyper-fixation.

Now, will I overthink the hell out of all of this when I’m back in my own apartment? Yes. But that’s nothing new. I feel like there’s more space for me to enjoy the small moments, like my mind has the room to do so.

I lean back into the booth, close my eyes, and check in—just like my therapist taught me. I feel pretty damn good. I’ve never done a shopping date, let alone something like tonight. Zack put in some effort, thinking about how I needed a dress for the wedding, and finding a way to be involved.

Zack slides back in the booth, his forehead scrunched.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

He takes a long drink of water, still not meeting my eyes. His phone buzzes, he checks it, and then puts it in his pocket before responding .

“Things are… weird?” he answers, his eyes finding mine.

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head and says, “My mom called because she doesn’t know where my dad is. She thought maybe he was with me. I couldn’t tell if that’s because he told her that or if she was just trying to figure things out.”

My stomach pinches as I take in Zack, what he’s saying, how he says it. I try to keep my words to myself and give him the room to keep going.

“I texted him and the message didn’t go through, like his phone is off or it’s on airplane mode.” He starts boxing up his leftover food in the takeout box. “This isn’t like him. Definitely out of the norm.”

Now, if this were my parents, it would be the norm for one to not know where the other was or what they were doing. Their lives are barely connected at this point. From what I saw, even in the one family dinner with the Andersen’s, they’re close—which makes this situation very different.

“That’s scary,” I say, reaching over and grabbing his hand for a few seconds. “What can I do?”

Zack takes a deep breath and sighs out, his lips blowing out with the air. “Give me five minutes to call my sister. And then let’s go to the second part of my surprise.” His voice is far away.

“Wait, I thought this was the second part?” I look down at the half of my burger that will either be a perfect snack for late tonight or lunch tomorrow.

Zack rolls his eyes and says, “EJ, this is a cheeseburger. Not a surprise.” He puts his hand on his chest, and I’m thinking about how it would feel to touch him there—my hands, his chest, and his muscles.

“I’m better than that.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and gives me a side-eye. He’s got the phone to his ear and is out the door before I can ask another question.

Obviously, I know he’s better than that.