“Theo!” she laughed, twisting her legs together and covering her breasts.

  “What? I’ve already seen you naked, woman. I’ve tasted ninety percent of that body.”

  She uncoiled slowly. “That’s right. And I want you to do it again, right now, this minute. In the shower.”

  “Race you,” I said, hurtling myself off the bed.

  Max squealed as we both ran toward the bathroom, and I realized that I wished I could wake up like this every day.

  19

  MAX

  It was an extravagance that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around.

  Here I was, sitting in a posh bridal boutique surrounded by Theo’s mom Elena, Jessica’s maid of honor Rebecca, and a few other familiar faces from the engagement party, giving loud commentary as the bride-to-be modeling her choices for her second dress for the wedding. A “reception dress,” something I’d never heard of.

  Jessica was on top of a pedestal in front of a three-way mirror, twisting back and forth to get a better view of the creamy gown. The simple draped column was one of eight in the running.

  “Sweetheart, I’m not so sure about that one,” Elena said to Jessica in a diplomatic voice. “It’s a little … plain.”

  Theo had given me a heads-up that Elena wanted me to come to the fitting, so I wasn’t surprised when she called to invite me. I’d felt a little conflicted accepting, because it felt like our charade was morphing into something more real than it was supposed to be. We’d agreed to all of the wedding-specific events, and the fitting was definitely wedding-adjacent. Elena and Jessica were so welcoming that it made me feel guilty about deceiving them. But still, a part of me wanted to experience his wonderfully overwhelming family. It wasn’t something I was used to, and I sort of liked it. Plus, Elena was really hard to say no to. I was starting to get why Theo had been willing to do whatever it took to find a nice girl to bring to the wedding.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Rebecca piped up. “You look incredible.”

  So far she’d told Jess she loved every dress, so it was becoming obvious that her opinion didn’t count. The two other women, Sarah and Lisa, weren’t any more helpful.

  “Well of course she does, Jess looks beautiful in everything,” Elena huffed. “But it looks like a slip. Where are the sparkles?”

  Jessica giggled. “Despite what you think, sparkles aren’t a requirement. And besides, my wedding gown has plenty of them. Maybe the reception dress is a chance to go a little more classic and elegant?”

  “Yes, but why in the world would you turn down the opportunity to have more sparkles?” Elena asked, like she was making a closing statement in debate club. “It’s not every day a girl gets to be a bride, so live it up! Bring on the glitter, baby!”

  We all laughed at her enthusiasm. As much as I wasn’t a glitter girl, I tended to agree with Elena. A wedding was the one day where every girl got to live out her princess fantasy. Hell, even I was finding myself drawn to the girlier, shinier options over the tasteful, unembellished gowns.

  “Max, what do you think?” Jessica asked me. “Honest opinion.”

  Everyone turned to look at me. “You do look absolutely stunning in everything, but … I agree with Elena. The reception is a party, so you shouldn’t be afraid to get loud, you know? Let me show you what I mean.”

  I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the photos I’d taken of her then walked over to her.

  “See this one, with the marabou trim on the bottom? This is a party dress. When you dance it floats!”

  “Hold on,” Jessica studied the image. “This picture is incredible. How did you make a snapshot look like a formal portrait?”

  “It’s her job,” Elena crowed. “She knows what she’d doing!”

  “It’s nothing,” I blushed. “Just angles and some bokeh.”

  “Bo-what?” Rebecca asked.

  “It’s a filter that makes the background hazy, so you focus on the foreground. It’s sort of a cheat to make any image look better.”

  “Can you send this to me?” Jess asked, glancing between the photo and her reflection.

  “Of course. I have a bunch of great options from today. I’ll clean them up and send you the gallery.”

  I could see Elena beaming at me in the mirror and my heart sank a little. She believed in me. She liked me. She thought her son was in love with me. I shuffled back to my seat while Jess left to change into the next dress.

  I glanced around the shop while the group gossiped. Weddings. Not something I thought about much. It wasn’t like I had a good role model for what a marriage could be. My parents had had a good marriage, so far as I could remember, but I’d only been six when my dad had died. Old enough to remember him, thankfully, but not old enough to really understand the nuances of my parents’ relationship. The only relationship I’d really been able to observe was the one my mom had with Nick—and it would be a lie to say I really understood it. It certainly didn’t make me want anything like that for myself. I wanted to be there for my mom and brother, and I wanted to make my career successful. Those were my priorities. Everything else, including romance, was low on my list—which was why I’d never had anything more than short-term relationships. I’d known plenty of girls who’d been planning their weddings since they were kids, but that had never been me.

  Yet as I watched Jess bop around in different dresses with her friends and family close by, I started to feel an unfamiliar pull. This tradition, this ritual, meant something. Not just to the bride but to the other members of her tribe. It was a beautiful bonding experience. Not to mention, she was so in love with her fiancé and so excited to marry him that she glowed with it. This was what a wedding should be, and it was surprisingly inspiring. And what surprised me even more was that I caught myself wondering what kinds of dresses might look good on me.

  The floaty, organza gown with delicate crystal embellishments hidden in the endless layers of drapery? Yeah, I kinda liked it. A lot. But the twelve-thousand-dollar price tag nearly made me throw up.

  “Anyone need more champagne?”

  I turned around to find Theo standing in the doorway holding two bottles of Dom Perignon, smiling that sexy, half-cocked grin of his. He was dressed up in a blazer and slim slacks, which didn’t make sense given it was the weekend.

  “There he is, the man of the hour,” Elena cheered, rushing over to hug her son.

  No one seemed surprised to see him, but I wasn’t sure what Theo was doing in a bridal salon in the middle of a sunny Saturday.

  “How’s it going in here?” he asked, looking around the room and then finally letting his gaze rest on me. I gave him a smile to show that I was doing just fine.

  “Terrible. The problem is Jess looks good in everything,” Rebecca said, true to form. “Hey, I just had an idea! Maybe she needs more than one reception dress?”

  “I like how you think,” Theo replied as he handed the bottles to our dress attendant. “We could make that happen. But I want to see our options and I’ll be the tie-breaker. The male gaze, if you’ll allow it.”

  He made his way over to me and plopped down on the plush sofa.

  “You surviving?” he asked in a low voice.

  “I am,” I laughed. “They’re great and you know it.”

  “They’re a lot when they get together. But I also know you can handle it.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, sending a shiver up the back of my neck.

  Jess walked back into the room in a new dress, and everyone whooped. She spotted Theo and waved excitedly.

  “Yay, you’re here! It’s only fair that you weigh in.”

  I glanced at him, wondering what she meant. Why would she need her cousin to help her pick her dress? What was his stake in it?

  The dress she was wearing was a fabulous departure from the simple prior option. It was a sheer, iridescent, beaded overlay with a spaghetti strap mini-dress lining, and it looked like constellations of stars dancing over her body every time she moved. The room went silent as we took her in.

  “Do we agree?” Jess asked, admiring herself in the mirror. “Is this the one?”

  Everyone started talking at the same time, and it was obvious that the decision was made. I moved to my knees to capture a shot of how beautiful and excited Jess looked, as well as the animated expressions of the rest of the group. I even snuck a photo of Theo beaming at his cousin.

  “Absolutely gorgeous, but you have to do the sit-test,” Elena barked, regaining everyone’s attention. “Can you sit in it?” She pointed at a high-back chair in the corner.

  Jessica stepped off the pedestal and did as she was told, slowly lowering herself into the chair.

  “Oh my God,” she squeaked as she tried to find a ladylike way to sit. “It’s so short! Can you see my underwear?”

  Everyone in the room but Theo leaned down to try to look up her skirt.

  “Yikes,” Rebecca said. “I can.”

  “Oh, honey,” Elena tsked. “What a disappointment. I love this dress, but you won’t feel comfortable in it all night.”

  “What if it’s the end-of-the-night dress?” one of the other women offered. “For when you and Tim leave the reception?”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but the rest of the women quickly agreed with her.

  “Exactly!” Rebecca said. “You can wear the one with the feather trim for most of the reception since it’s swingy and comfortable for dancing, then right before you leave you can change into this once for a few dances and photo ops, then do the sparkler send-off in it. Can you imagine how gorgeous it’ll look in those photos?”

  Hold on. They were suggesting that Jessica get three dresses for her wedding?

  Jessica glanced over at Theo. “What do you think?”

  His brow was furrowed as he studied her. “I think it would be a crime if you didn’t get that dress. And I’ll take your word that the other one is perfect too. So, three dresses it is.”

  “Theo, thank you!” Jessica hopped off the pedestal and ran over to him to hug him. “Are you sure? It feels like it’s too much.”

  “Please, nothing is too much when it comes to you.”

  Everything snapped into place as Jess continued to thank him. Theo was footing the bill for the entire wedding. That’s what he’d meant when he’d mentioned selecting Bloom as the party venue, and why he’d shown up today. He was the one signing the receipts.

  Jess rushed over to me. “Thank you for sharing Theo with me, Max. I’m so happy that you’re a part of all of this.” She gave me a big hug then moved on as a wave of guilt washed over me.

  I liked her. I liked all of them, so much. But that just made all of this feel weird on a bunch of different levels. Theo being the big benefactor to his family, them welcoming me in with open arms. No one suspected that I was yet another transaction for him, another bill to be paid. What were they going to think when our relationship abruptly ended? Would Jess hate the fact that I was hovering in the back of her family photos from the wedding? Would Elena curse my name for breaking her son’s heart?

  I moved away from the group until my back was up against the wall. I liked these people, and deceiving them felt wrong. Theo spotted me and disengaged from everyone.

  “Hey, you okay?” he whispered in my ear. “Are they getting to be too much?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all, they’re wonderful. I just … I don’t know.” It didn’t feel right to bring up my reservations now, so I bottled them up, fixing a smile in place.

  Theo studied me from beneath a furrowed brow. “Then what’s wrong? You seem weird.”

  “Wedding dress overload, maybe?” I offered.

  He chuckled. “That’s right. You have a decidedly anti-princess stance. Are you breaking out in hives from all of the glitz?”

  I laughed to cover the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside of me. Wanting to be a part of it all but knowing I didn’t deserve to. Not being a “wedding girl” but suddenly feeling a pull to put on something white and sparkly. I glanced up at Theo because I could feel him watching me.

  “I’m fine.” I managed a more convincing smile as I tried to ignore my clenching heart.

  20

  THEO

  I wondered if inviting Chef Garcia to cater our little dinner meeting was too much.

  Max was coming over to get my input on which photos she should submit to the internship program along with her application. Since it was close to dinnertime, I had figured a meal wouldn’t hurt. I was craving Peruvian food, so why not get the best? I could hear Chef moving around the kitchen as I paced, waiting for Max to arrive.

  I still couldn’t make sense of her strange reaction at the wedding dress shop. She seemed a little deer-in-headlights by the end of it, and it was obvious she wasn’t being honest when she’d said she was fine. I wasn’t going to pry, but I sure as hell wished I could understand what was going on inside her beautiful head.

  The door buzzer sounded, and I had to keep myself from running to answer it. Yeah, I was excited to see her again. Sue me.

  “Hey,” I said, opening the door.

  And there she was, incandescent as always, in a black t-shirt dress and white converse instead of her motorcycle boots for a change. Bare-faced, hair scraped up in a messy ponytail and more beautiful than any model I’d ever known.

  “Hiya,” she gave me a little wave. “I hope you’re ready to get overwhelmed.”

  A shadow passed over her face as she said it. There it was again, the unknowable Max I wished I could decipher.

  “And I hope you’re hungry,” I pointed over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “Early dinner is underway. Ceviche de camarones and lomo saltado.”

  She placed her stuff on the long table in the hall. “You’re cooking?”

  “Not this time,” I shook my head. “My friend Chef Garcia is taking care of us.”

  “Hold on … you hired a chef to cook for us? For this?” she gestured at her laptop bag.

  “I had a craving,” I replied with a shrug. “And I get what I want.”

  “You don’t say.” She laughed but it didn’t sound cheerful.

  “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “Absolutely nothing. You do you.”

  She’d crossed her arms and was staring at me. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, this semi-confrontational stance she was taking over something as simple as a meal. I opted to ignore it.

  “Anyway, let’s set up at the table. Drink?”

  “Please. Since we’re having seafood, I’ll take a glass of white wine.”

  I moved to the bar in the corner of the room as Max got set up at the long table, pulling an oversized leather portfolio from her bag and setting up her laptop. It was definitely going to be a working dinner, but I didn’t mind.

  I just appreciated the chance to spend time with her.

  “Looks like we have a lot to choose from,” I said as I walked to the table holding two glasses of wine.

  Max took the glass from me but kept her eyes trained on a black and white photo of a wave crashing against rocks. “Yeah. I’m so torn about what to do. Your input is really going to help.”

  Chef bustled out of the kitchen holding two massive bowls and placed them in front of us, then disappeared before I could even introduce him to Max.

  “Okay, now I understand why you hired a chef. This is amazing,” Max said.

  “He’s the best of the best,” I agreed. “Now let me take a look at your book.”

  Max was busy stuffing food in her mouth and making little satisfied noises as she pushed the binder toward me. Good. Making her happy made me happy.

  “Are you kidding me?” she moaned as she picked a piece of shrimp from the bowl. “This might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “You’re welcome.” I winked at her and she threw her napkin at me.

  We sped through both courses, killing the bottle of wine in no time. Between bites, we worked our way through her portfolio and moved on to her online photo collections. And yet, we were no closer to making a decision about which photos to use. The problem was that Max couldn’t seem to take a bad photo. Her eye was impeccable. She could turn the most basic subject into something museum-worthy just by switching up the framing or focal point, so that a shot of discarded bottlecap on the boardwalk looked like a still life. There were a few photos of the beach I could imagine hanging on my walls.

  “Why do you want this internship?” I asked her. “What more do you need to learn? I mean, look at this,” I said, holding up an image of the moon reflected in the still ocean. “You’ve got the composition, the color, the mood … you should be the teacher, not the student.”

  Max blushed. “There’s always more to learn. And besides, any affiliation with Richard Adams is basically a career speed pass.”

  “I know his name, but I can’t say I know his work. Show me your favorite shot of his.”

  She tapped on her phone then handed it to me. The black and white image on the screen was of three nude women, draped around one another so that the shape they collectively formed mirrored the mountain range behind them. The models were carefully arranged so their legs and hands covered most of their nudity, but if you looked quickly, it seemed as if you could see everything. It was a stunning image but nothing like what Max created. I scrolled through the photographer’s web site and saw photo after photo of beautiful women, both famous and unknown.

  “Okay he’s obviously great. But I don’t understand why you think you need to learn from him. His focus is the female body. Yours is nature.”

  She screwed up her face as she considered it. “I guess? But a good image is a good image. And I feel like I could use more help with my photos of people. It would be amazing to consider him an ally.”

  “So is this internship more political, or skills-based?”

  “Both,” she answered without hesitation. “And it wouldn’t be possible without your help. Your financial support,” she clarified quickly. “I truly appreciate it.”