“Took you long enough,” Jack says, standing up. “Thought I’d have to go through this tuxedo torture alone.”

“Yeah, right,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

The tailor, an older gentleman named Luciano, approached us as soon as I entered. He’s taken care of the male members of my family for as long as I can remember.

“Mr. Bennett,” Luciano greets me before turning his attention to Jack, who stands next to me. “And Mr. Jack I just met of course.”

Jack’s face crinkles, “I said, just Jack!”

I could tell they’d had this conversation a time or two while they were waiting for me. “We’re both getting fitted,” I change the subject quickly.

Luciano nods, gesturing for us to follow him toward the back of the boutique, where the private fitting area awaits.

Jack whistles, taking in the espresso bar in the corner, a cart with high-end whiskey on offer, and a full-length mirror framed in dark wood that reflects the soft lighting of the room.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Luciano says as he gestures toward the plush leather chairs, his voice smooth and practiced. “Would you care for an espresso, or something stronger?”

I shake my head, but Jack grins. “I’ll take that whiskey, thanks.”

“So, this is how the other half lives,” Jack says as he settles into one of the chairs.

I can’t help but grin. Jack and I come from completely different worlds—he grew up in a modest home, while I’ve lived in the thick of wealth and privilege my whole life. But it never seemed to matter much, especially when we served together.

Out there, in the military, none of this luxury – tuxedos, whiskey carts—made a difference. It still doesn’t, at least not to him. But he enjoys watching me squirm in settings like this.

Luciano returns with the whiskey, handing it to Jack. “Are we thinking classic black tie, or would you prefer something with a modern twist?” he asks me.

“Classic,” I say, my tone firm. The wedding may be unconventional, but I’m not. No point in complicating things. “No flash, no embellishments. Just sharp.”

Luciano hums in approval. “Excellent choice, Mr. Bennett.”

Jack watches the exchange, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, this is something else. Back when I got married, we rented our tuxes from the shop down the street.”

I grin. “You mean they didn’t serve you whiskey and take your measurements like royalty?”

“Hell no.” Jack grins, then takes another sip. “I guess I’ll live vicariously through you.”

Luciano motions for me to step onto the platform in front of the mirror, and I do so, holding myself still as he works efficiently, measuring every angle and jotting down notes.

“Would you like any adjustments to the classic cut?” Luciano asks as he moves around me, measuring the breadth of my shoulders. “Perhaps a slimmer fit?”

“No,” I say. “Keep it traditional.”

Jack chuckles from the chair. “Look at you, all business even when it comes to a tux.”

Luciano finishes with me, and Jack takes his turn on the platform, still grinning as the tailor starts taking his measurements. Jack is dressed in a t-shirt that reveals the tattoos on his arms.

He works for a private security firm as a personal bodyguard, and he seems to thrive in the role.

As the tape moves around him, Jack looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrow raised.

“You really stepping into your brother’s shoes just like that?” Jack asks.

“It’s not about filling his shoes,” I say evenly. “It’s about business. We both know this marriage isn’t about love.”

Jack whistles low, shaking his head. “Man, I still don’t get it. This is your life we’re talking about. I can’t imagine marrying someone I wasn’t in love with. You’re missing out.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of waiting for love, Jack,” I say, the words coming out fast, like a defense. I see the way Jack is with his wife, Sarah. But that’s not in the cards for me.