Page 58 of Your Rule to Break

“We’re going shopping. Private shopping. Just you and me,” he says, like it doesn’t make me have even more questions.

I shake my head, clearly needing more information.

“You said you didn’t have a dress for the wedding, right? Now’s the time.” He opens the door for me.

He has a way of remembering everything. It was about a week ago when we were having dinner with Willow and Tripp, when I made a single comment about still needing clothes for the destination wedding.

And he’s right. The wedding is only a couple weeks away and this is a task I’ve procrastinated long enough.

We walk in, and it’s just a basic entrance way with one woman sitting at a reception desk. There’s no signage or anything indicating a brand or store.

“You must be Emilie.” The woman stands and offers a handshake. “I’m Mia. Your stylist for the evening.” She smiles. “I called Willow’s stylist and she had some measurements for you, so we’ve got lots for you to choose from.”

“Good to see you, Mia. Thanks for pulling this together for me,” Zack says.

Wait. Personal shopping like a single stylist, a bunch of clothes, and me and Zack?

I did not see this coming.

Mia walks, we follow, and when she pulls open a massive industrial sliding door, I see racks of clothes split down the middle. I’m guessing one side is for me and one is for Zack.

“I have some of my assistants around so they can help coordinate and with whatever you need. Dressing rooms are in that back corner.”

Zack looks at me, grinning ear-to-ear as Mia walks further in.

“Tell me you’re surprised!”

“Yes. I would’ve never guessed this.” I take in all the racks and still can’t quite believe it.

“This is usually open for brand influencers, models, celebrities—whoever has a connection. I rented it out and had stuff brought in for you and me.”

What the fuck? I can’t get over how thoughtful this is.

“If we’re going to this beach wedding, we gotta look fly.”

I shake my head, putting my hand to my forehead. “Don’t say fly,” I joke.

“So fly. Like a damn stylish bird.” He doubles down. “Let’s shop.”

Mia immediately swirls me away and is asking me about colors, fabrics, overall vibes of the wedding, and anything I want to stay away from. She takes me through racks of clothes, grabbing items and putting them up to me, but taking them away before I get a good grasp on it. One of the assistants follows like there’s a string connecting their hip to Mia’s. They work together, effortlessly exchanging dresses, some to keep and some to put back, without a word.

After forty minutes of building out my own rack—everything I want to try on—I’m ushered into a dressing room unlike anything I’ve ever seen. There’s a massive mirror, which is basically the entire wall, with a touch functionality to change the type of light. In the corner is an accent chair, next to a full sofa.

There’s a refreshment station in the opposite corner with a high-top table that boasts quite the spread: water, seltzer, champagne, juice, and a few canned cocktails.

“I feel like you’re a champagne girl,” Mia says as one of the assistants is reaching for a flute and the bottle.

“I want champagne!” Zack yells from somewhere before walking in. “My room is right next door,” he points.

When each of us has a glass of bubbly, Zack offers up a toast. “Let’s get this poppin’!”

I shake my head, clinking his glass with mine. “That’s better than when you told meyou put the champ in champagneso I’ll take it.”

“We’re going to go through a few other racks in case you don’t find what you’re looking for. While we’re pulling back up options, press this button if you need anything. We’re going to be at the front of thewarehouse so we won’t be able to hear if you just call out,” Mia explains, pointing out the button on the wall.

I can’t imagine not finding something in what’s already in this room. There has to be at least twenty dresses and a few two-piece sets.

I take a sip of the champagne, the fizz promising.

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