I’m not going to lie. I’m about two seconds from tears because I’ve never had someone understand the struggle of having clothes bought for them. Most of the time, it’s awkward when assumptions are made and things don’t fit correctly. Then there’s this guilt associated with being unable to wear said gift.
So, this, this makes me feel overwhelmingly seen.
I form a pile of the clothes that I’ll never be able to wear, either because they’re too big or too small, and put them to the side so I can make sure to donate them later today. I won’t be able to get use out of them, but someone else will, and Zanders doesn’t exactly seem like a “returns” guy.
Taking all the pieces and sizes I picked to keep, I replace them in the bottom drawer, claiming that small bit of Zanders’ penthouse. But instead of getting dressed in something he bought me, I hesitate. He gave me permission to wear something of his, which sounds nice.
I’ve never worn a guy’s clothes before. Not in a cute way, at least. I’ve never been able to because men’s clothing is cut straight up and down, but I’m all curves. Their shirts and hoodies always get too tight around my midsection, and their pants can’t get around my ass and hips. But Zanders is a huge man with thighs thicker than mine, so maybe it’ll work.
Rifling through his drawers, I find a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, and I can’t even explain the little jolt of victory that flows through my chest when they slip on with ease. I’ll probably never tell anyone this because it seems so small and unimportant, but for the first time in my life, I feel the way all the other girls did when I was growing up, and they got to wear their boyfriends’ hoodies or jerseys to games.
I find Zanders standing shirtless over the stove, his gold chain and tattoos doing all sorts of things to me at this morning hour.
“Now, don’t get too excited about breakfast. I have no idea what I’m doing, nor have I ever cooked for someone before.”
I bury my head into his back, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’ll be happy with anything.”
He gives me a soft grin over his shoulder, but when his stare finds his clothes on my body, that smile grows.
I grab his hand, spatula and all, holding it up to examine it. “You should probably take that off before you get in the shower again.” I nod towards the ring of mine he’s wearing on his pinky finger. “Mine aren’t as nice as yours. That’ll for sure turn your finger green.”
He turns his head, putting his lips on mine. “Sounds like I need to replace all yours one day.”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t need you to spend money on me. I already have my brother doing it too much.”
I turn to walk out of the kitchen, but Zanders grabs me by the waist, pulling me into him. “Maybe you should let us. I’ve never had someone to spend my money on other than myself and the Maddisons, but it sounds nice.”
Turning to face him, I tilt my head. “I don’t give a shit about your money, Zee. I don’t want you to think that has anything to do with my feelings for you.”
I don’t want you to think another person is using you for your money the way your mom is trying.
He laughs it off. “Sweetheart, I fucking know that. You choose to wear secondhand clothes, and your brother makes millions of dollars a year. No part of me thinks you’re using me for my money.”
Rolling my eyes, I melt into him, realizing how ridiculous I probably sound.
“It’s actually one of the things that made me realize I liked you,” he continues. “I don’t give a fuck that your brother is famous, but it was nice to see that you weren’t impressed by anything material when it came to me. I couldn’t use that part of my life to impress you, and that was something I was used to doing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you sap. Fine, you can buy me new jewelry. But I want the expensive shit.”
Zanders’ deep laugh echoes off the kitchen walls. “Deal,” he seals with a kiss. “My laptop is on the table for you.”
Opening his computer, I make myself comfortable at Zanders’ dining room table.
“You’ll come pick up Rosie with me today?” he asks from the kitchen.
“I don’t think I should. It’s her first day with you. I don’t want her to get attached to me when she’s your dog.”
That causes the giant shirtless defenseman in the kitchen to keel over in laughter. “Vee.” He pauses, unable to speak. “Rosie is obsessed with me. You’re old news.”