“Hey.” Owen captures my attention by moving closer behind me. He takes the sunflower dress from Quinn and holds it against my body again. Quinn gives me a reassuring wink in the mirror before waddling away. Her hand is pressed against her lower back and to my right, I see Jaxon creeping up on her with the wheelchair, the wheels squeaking with every roll. “Look at my Jolie,” Owen says gently, but stern enough to yank me out of my head.
I blink away the fog and meet his reflection with my own.
“There you are,” he says again.
“Here I am,” I repeat.
“Do you like this dress, Jolie?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I’m not here for me. I’m here for you. Do you like it?” he asks again.
I rub my hands over the material. It’s soft. I take it between my fingers and let the cotton slip over my skin. The hem stops right above the knee, not showing too much leg, but enough to keep me cool on a hot day. The collar drops below my collarbone in a swoop, but it doesn’t show cleavage. I’m glad. I never want to show my body.
I do like it. I would like to try it on. I nod. “Yes, I do.”
He gives me the biggest grin as he drapes the dress over his forearm. “Good. Now, go pick out more. Anything, everything. Go ahead,” he urges me on. “I’ll be right behind you, waiting to carry it to the dressing room.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I know how men feel about being belittled or seeming like they are less of a man. I don’t want him to view himself like that because he’s holding dresses. I can hold them. I reach out to take the dress away, but he half turns his body away from mine.
“I know I don’t. I want to do it, Jolie. Go have fun. This is what shopping is supposed to be. Fun. There’s no pressure here, okay?” He wraps a hand on the dip of my waist and brings his lips to my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And I’m afraid I’ll never want him to.
Twelve
Owen
I’m in big trouble.
No, not big trouble.
Astronomical fucking trouble.
I hold onto her hand as she steps away from me, and she doesn’t let go until she has to. Our fingers glide together, getting one last touch before they slip away, and she moves to the rack of clothes where Quinn and Gabriella are. Finley is on the other side, looking at lingerie and teasing Grayson as she holds a sheer piece of scrap against her body.
Grayson is biting his fist, then he bends down and whispers something in her ear that makes her throw her head back and laugh. She shakes her head and pushes him away. Finley puts the lingerie back, and Grayson grabs it again, slinging it over his arm like I’m holding this dress.
Holy hell.
I’m just like them.
I’m holding her clothes just like they do.
“Owen?” her tentative, unsure voice calls my name, yanking my attention from the flirtation between Grayson and Finley. “Do you like this?” She holds up a baby pink dress. It’s similar to the sunflower one I have in my hand, but the neckline is deeper and there are ruffles down the middle.
“Do you?” I ask, not wanting her to make a decision based on what I think.
She looks down and sways a bit, letting the flowy hem of the dress move back and forth. “Yes, I love it.”
“That’s all that matters, Jolie, but if you really want to know, I think you’ll look very beautiful in it.”
The grin that beams across her face makes me want to buy all the damn dresses. All of them.
“Give it to me,” I say, holding out my arm for her to add it to the pile.
She lays it over my arm and hops to the rack again, sliding each hanger across the rod until she finds another she likes. “Look at this one!” she says, showing me first. “Quinn…” She spins around to show Quinn, which makes me hold my breath. This is a big step for her.