Page 40 of Champagne Nights

“That’s nice of you to ask, but it’s your family day, and I don’t want to intrude. You go and have a good time. I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be intruding, and if I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t want to go in the same clothes as last night, and I don’t have any makeup on. I’m sure I look like a hot mess.”

“Actually, you look beautiful.” I smiled.

I had an idea. One that I thought she would enjoy.

“Come with me.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the bed.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. We’ll leave now because we have a stop to make first.”

“Is Harry outside already?” she asked.

“Harry isn’t driving us. I am.”

“You’re driving the limo?” She grinned.

“No. I’m driving my personal car.”

I led her to the garage and opened the door to the Bentley. She climbed in and ran her hand along the leather seat.

“Sometimes I wish that I could drive.” She glanced over at me as I pulled out of the garage.

“Not in New York, you don’t.” I chuckled.

I pulled up to the valet parking at Bloomingdales and helped Aubrey out of the car.

“Are you going to tell me where we are?” she asked.

“Why don’t you see if you can guess once we get inside?”

She held on to me as we entered through the doors. Once inside, she stopped and stood there momentarily, trying to figure out where we were.

“A large department store. We’re either at Bloomingdales or at Bergdorf. But I’m going to say Bloomingdales.” She grinned.

I stood there shaking my head in disbelief that she knew exactly where we were.

“How did you know?”

“Because we weren’t in the car that long, and Bloomingdales is closer to your townhouse.”

This woman never ceased to amaze me, and I found myself at war between feeling comfortable with her and wanting to run as fast as I could.

“So why are we here?”

“I thought you would like to have your makeup done, and then we could get you a new outfit to wear to my parents’ house.”

“Are you serious?” She smiled as she turned her head in my direction.

“Very serious.”

“Ethan. I don’t—” She lowered her head.

“We’re doing this, Aubrey. I want you to be comfortable at my parents’ house. Now, the girl at the Chanel counter isn’t busy. Is that okay?”

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