Page 19 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

I take him to the back of the mall to a place that only does designer suits and high-quality menswear. I haven’t been to this store in a while. I haven’t had a boyfriend who cared enough about looking good.

But the staff in here are great and really know what they’re talking about. Plus, this whole mall is designed for people with money to spend. There are no generic chains in here. This whole place stinks of exclusivity, so I have a feeling that Jason is going to feel at home.

When we reach our first stop, he hesitates.

“Comeon. It’s good in here, I promise. I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, I swear.”

“Okay…” he says. “I didn’t realize this was going to be a trip for me exclusively.”

“Well, if you would prefer, we can go into all the other shops, and I’ll buy what I want. And we can be here for hours and hours andhours, but I kind of wanted to do something nice for you.” He frowns hard but doesn’t argue with me.

We head inside, where we are met by a young man in a vibrant pink suit. “Oh, my God,” he gasps. “Eliza and Jason! I love you guys so much. Eliza, you are an icon, as always, you can get it. Girl, that dress you wore the other day to the awards! Slay girl. Itate.”

“I was serving, and it was all on purpose.” I giggle. “And my husband here,” I pretend not to notice the way Jason flinches when I say the wordhusband,“is in desperate need of a makeover.” I lean in and whisper conspiratorially with the guy. “Did you know he only has gray suits?”

The guy eyes Jason up and down and shakes his head. “Girl,” he says, clearly judging Jason hard. Jason stands as still and awkward as a granite slab. “We’ve got to get you out of gray.”

Jason smiles politely.

We walk through the store, and the salesperson, Pete, does a really good job getting Jason to open up about what he likes. It’s clear Pete deals with this kind of client all the time, someone who wants to look good but doesn’t have any idea where to start and feels embarrassed to ask.

I pick out a few items, a luxurious green shirt, some stylish sage pants, and Jason resists. We keep getting him to try and pick something out, and when he finally cracks, I see the faintest smile. Pete helps style everything into a cohesive wardrobe, suggesting socks and ties that even Jason can’t oppose.

The first time Jason steps out of one of the changing rooms, I clap my hands together. “Jason! Babe, you look so good!”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Again, he lets out a tiny smile, and I beam at him. “You see,” I say, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. We haven’t done anything outlandish with him, just inserted a splash of color and made sure everything fits perfectly. “Come look in the mirror.”

He does, and it pleases me to see the way he blinks in surprise. Slowly, he turns from side to side, examining the new outfit we’ve crafted for him, and he smiles. We’ve found some casual wear that isn’t as smart as a full suit but isn’t as sloppy as jeans and a T-shirt. It makes him look put-together but not intimidating or too formal, not like he’s trying too hard.

We pick out short sleeves and long sleeves, and when he emerges with his arms bare, I can’t help but let my eyes drift to his biceps. They’re more toned than I would have expected. He talks about the gym often, but actually seeing his muscles surprises me.

He’s not ripped by any stretch of the imagination, but he looks strong, sturdy. The last way I would choose to describe him is as a person who doesn’t look after himself. And when he’s wearing clothes like this, standing confidently and tall, he’s nothing like that weedy, nerdy guy I met a couple of weeks ago.

We spend nearly two hours in the store and by the time we’re done, we have bags and bags of clothes for Jason’s new wardrobe. I almost wish we’d brought a suitcase.

I pay for all of his clothes, which he protests about quietly. I remind him that it’s all his money anyway, which he makes a face at. I know what he’s thinking — he hates it when I talk like this. He doesn’t want me to feel like I owe him anything, like hehas the ability to take his gift away at any point if I displease him. It’s kind of him to be so generous.

The guilt means I want to repay him anyway.

We dip into my favorite dress shop after that, and I try on a few shoes. Jason is diligent in his compliments, but I can tell when he’s getting bored, so I try my best to make my visit fast.

I already have our next destination in mind. But I’ve been struggling to figure out how to bring it up with him. That’s why I’m delaying really. The last actual thing I really need is more shoes.

When we leave, I turn to him and take both of his hands. “Okay, I have somewhere else I want to take you.”

“Where now?” he groans.

“Just trust me, okay?”

He agrees begrudgingly. I squeeze his hand and lead the way, not feeling nearly as confident as my smile suggests.

His reaction is almost exactly what I expected it to be.

“I do not,” he says firmly, “need a new pair of glasses.”

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