Page 8 of Made Over by Meredith

“Okay, you were right,” I said, striding out of the dressing room, and Meredith positively lit up.

“You look so good, Aiden!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She snorted a laugh, doing her thing, fixing me like her personal doll. “You don’t believe me?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe it’s because you’ve been wearing the wrong clothes the whole time. It’s been throwing you off.”

I merely offered her a quiet, “Maybe.”

“Okay. Next!” She pushed me back into the room, and I tried on another pair of chinos, which were basically khakis…but, like, with a fancy name, and another sweater. This time, she wasn’t as happy about it. “I like the gray and the blue shirt the best. They’re basics you can mix and match. But if you don’t want to get them, you don’t have to.”

I checked the price tags. I was used to buying twenty-dollar stuff. While I didn’t consider myself cheap, I was also careful with my money. I was an accountant, after all.

“Hey.” She reached for my arm. “Why don’t you let me buy them for you? My treat for being a good sport.”

“No. No way. This is my thing.You’rehelpingme.”

“Yeah, but I would really like to buy them for you if you like them. Ask Claire, I love buying people things.”

I slipped my arm out of her grip. “Why?”

“Because it’s my love language.” She toyed with the collar of my sweater, her voice going quiet. “I don’t know if Claire’s ever told you, but my family has money, and I like to spend it, so…”

I edged away from her. “What’s that even mean?”

She stomped her foot, her fists at her sides in a tiny temper tantrum. “It means I want to buy this stuff for you.”

“I don’t need you buying my anything. I can afford it. I’m just not used to spending money on clothes, is all.”

She spun around. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll meet you in the front.”

I stared after her for a moment, interested in what that was all about before changing into my clothes, but kept on the underwear. I purchased the boxer-briefs, along with the gray pants and button-down. If Meredith liked it, I was going to get it. She was the expert, and I trusted her.

Then again, I thought any man with a thing for self-assured women and a siren smile would crawl after her if she said so. But we were here to get me a girlfriend, not to build her a higher pedestal so I could admire her.

With my bag in hand, I met her by the door. “All right, teach?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at me. “Ready for the next stop?”

I followed her into Old Navy then Express, where she pulled clothes for me to try on at each place, getting more and more comfortable as the day wore on. Enough that when she sat next to me while I tried on shoes, I asked, “Gonna tell me what that fit was about before?”

“It wasnota fit.”

I bit back a smile, and she purposely elbowed me as she searched for something in her purse.

“A tantrum then,” I said, and she growled cutely as she found her cell phone.

“Not a tantrum either.”

“Outburst?”

She ignored that and leaned into me so I could view the picture on her phone screen. It appeared to be a family photo. It included a woman who looked freakishly similar to Meredith, but a bit older, a man with a wide smile and oddly tanned skin, as well as a guy who looked about Meredith’s age with a full head of gold hair and perfect smile.

“Your family?”

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