16. Rich Men’s Wives Who Started Out Normal

SIXTEEN

#8 Karlie Kloss

Nathan Hunt was holding my hand. He was holding my hand and had been since he'd picked me up from our apartment at 5:05 p.m. and ushered me into a cab that was waiting at the curb.

He'd done it in front of the weekend doorman, Turo. He'd done it in front of two of his neighbors, whom he'd greeted by name and introduced me to as his "girlfriend, Giovanna." And he'd done it in the cab all the way to the Upper East Side, where he'd tugged me out on the sidewalk and led me across Fifth Avenue and through the revolving glass doors of Bergdorf Goodman.

He was just following through. But I hadn't expected our agreement to start the moment he'd returned home after the clinic. I'd spent the afternoon taking a long bath in the oversized tub, scrubbing and moisturizing every inch of my body, then doing my physical therapy exercises before coming up with a million reasons why pretending to date Nathan Hunt was a very bad idea. They all boiled down to the same basic three, which I scribbled on the back of a receipt along with a few others:

Reasons Nobody Will Buy This Fake Relationship

1. Rich handsom men only scrwe washed up dancers. They dont bring them home.

2. Your going to emberess him. Nathan can keep his Mouth shut. U cant.

3. ur life is a mess. Hes going to get sick of cleening it up.

By the time he rushed in from the clinic, still wearing the pressed slacks and maroon-striped button-down that made my mouth water, I was ready to call it off and get packing. Then he grabbed my hand, and every single reason evaporated into thin air.

"This really isn't necessary," I said for what was probably the tenth time since we'd entered the luxe, marbled interior of the famous department store.

Bergdorf's was one of those places I'd always known existed. Theoretically. It was a New York landmark, like the Plaza or the Empire State Building, so I'd probably even walked by it—maybe on a class trip to see Rockefeller Center or Central Park. But I'd never been inside. Because why would I, a broke dancer, sixth child of a lower-middle class family, ever have a reason to mingle with the too-rich-to-be-famous people who shopped at a place like this?

"I'm telling you, I can get ten-dollar knockoffs of all this stuff on Lennox," I said as we strode across the fourth floor past whole sections filled with couture. Things seemed to get more expensive in this store the more stories you climbed. I was legitimately wondering if they held a second Fort Knox on the floor above. "Or St. Mark's if you don't want to go uptown."

Nathan just shook his head as he towed me toward the back of the floor. "This is easier. They'll know what you'll need for the next few months."

Few months, huh?

Was that the amount of time he thought it would take to get rid of my parasitic ex and throw his family off his reclusive ways?

I should have added another reason to my list. Considering my past relationships, Nathan Hunt was going to get sick of me way before then.

"Hello, Andrea," Nathan greeted a petite woman standing in the center of an empty department with the words "Personal Shopping" mounted in big brass letters on a beam over the entrance. "I apologize for our tardiness. There was a bit of trouble getting across town. This is my girlfriend, Giovanna."

He kept using that name, and I kept letting him. Like it helped me get into character as the type of woman who would actually be Nathan Hunt's significant other.

"It's no problem, Dr. Hunt. You know it's always our pleasure to work with your family." Andrea turned to me. "It's lovely to meet you, Giovanna."

Andrea looked like she belonged here, with her pinned-back blond hair streaked with silver, shiny red loafers and a sleek black outfit that wasn't too tight or too loose. Perfectly fitted in that way I'd never achieved in my life.

I glanced at him. His family?

"My mother likes to shop," Nathan told me. "I get fitted at the men's store across the street. It's why I knew they would know what you'd need."

I reared. "Nathan. I don't want to look like your mother."

It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Exhibit #1017 of Joni running her mouth.

That list was coming to life before my eyes.

Andrea, to her credit, didn't even giggle as she set a kind hand on my shoulder and smiled. She was probably a little older than my sisters, sweet in that way I'd expect my mother might have been if she hadn't been ruined by alcohol and a criminal past.

"I think he just means I'm familiar with the sorts of events his family attends, dear," she said kindly. "And he would be right. I've been dressing Lillian for close to twenty years now. You boys too, isn't that right, Dr. Hunt?"

We both swiveled toward Nathan, who just bobbed his head. "Er, yes. That's right."

His cheeks pinked when he caught me gawking at him—Nathan actually looked embarrassed. I made a mental note to tease him mercilessly about needing to be "dressed" like a doll.

Or could I? After all, I was here for the same reason, wasn't I?

"So, what do we have coming up, dear?" asked Andrea.

I blinked. Was she talking to me or Nathan?

"There's a charity gala coming up—The Sinai Children's fundraiser," Nathan said.

Andrea nodded. "So we'll need an evening gown, then. Anything else?"

"She'll also need some clothes for dinner with my colleagues. Possibly a few small events at the Union. Cocktail hours, parties with her friends, things like that." Nathan was barely paying attention as he thumbed through his phone. "We might go down to Virginia for the races too, so really, just help her pick out anything she likes."

My mouth dropped. Cocktail hours? Parties? Virginia races? None of those were part of the original plan. "Nathan, that's really not?—"

"Just do it," he cut me off again, speaking directly to Andrea. When he finally met my gaze, he shoved his phone into his pocket and made directly for me, even taking my hand again, like he needed the contact. "Let me do this for you, please."

I shivered at his touch. Or maybe at the slight yearning in that otherwise stoic voice. Either way, I didn't let go.

"I'll just start gathering a few options," Andrea said, glancing between us curiously. "What are you, Giovanna, a size four?"

"Sometimes a two. Depends on the brand," I murmured, unable to tear my gaze from Nathan's deep brown one. "And you can call me Joni." There was no way I could keep character with someone essentially the costumer for this little show of ours.

"We'll take measurements after I come back with some options." Andrea had the good sense to make herself scarce while Nathan pulled me to face him.

Our fingers were still intertwined. But that was because there were still people around, right? Not because he actually wanted to touch me like that.

"Nathan," I tried again. "We were supposed to just get one or two dresses. Not a whole new wardrobe. This is totally unnecessary. You don't have to do this."

"I think I do." His hand squeezed mine like he was trying to communicate something else. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he murmured into it, "‘Reason Number Six: he looks like a magazine ad, and I bet his family does too. You look like you rolled out of a donation bin.'"

I reared back. "You saw my list?"

"Well, it wasn't hard when you left it crumpled on the couch."

I huffed. So, maybe I had. That didn't mean he had to go reading the stupid thing.

Nathan tilted his head with a sly half-smile, then pulled from his other pocket a little leather-bound book and handed it to me. It was identical to the one he had, but red.

"Thought you might want to start keeping your lists in one place too," he said. "It helps me. And I promise not to snoop."

I took the book and stared at it for a moment. Another gift. One I had a sneaking suspicion I didn't deserve at all. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He watched while I tucked it into my purse. "As for the clothes, I do think it's necessary. If we're going to pull this off, I don't want you to have any doubts about fitting in. Not that I think you should."

"You were the one who told me I can't wear my normal clothes around your family," I said bitterly. "I wouldn't have even thought otherwise until you said that."

Nathan seemed to think about that for a long moment. "What would a good boyfriend say at this moment?"

I blinked. "I—what?"

I hadn't expected that. An argument, yes. Being told I was overreacting, sure. But not asking what he should say.

Nathan just came even closer. "I'm trying to do something helpful, but it's not working. Or at least it's coming off in the wrong way. So, help me understand what the right thing is." He looked over my outfit, which currently consisted of my favorite pair of vintage Levi's, a cropped leather bustier, and purple Jordan Ones I'd found at a garage sale last year.

It was my favorite outfit and the polar opposite of Bergdorf's. And him.

"Don't just say I can do what I want. Tell me something you like about my clothes. And don't bullshit me."

Again, he looked over my outfit, but this time, his gaze burned a little. And not in a bad way.

My heartbeat seemed to drop somewhere between my legs.

"I like what you're wearing a lot," he said. "Especially that." He pointed at the bustier. "What is it called?"

"A b-bustier," I said.

He nodded and silently mouthed the word. "It's very flattering. I like the way it reveals your hips and how it creates a different shape to your décolletage that is very, um, tempting." His eyes looked like they wanted to drop to said body part but didn't. Instead, they burned even brighter when they met mine. "Is that adequate?"

Slowly, I nodded. "That's, um—" I cleared my throat of a frog that seemed to have come out of nowhere. "Yes, that's just fine."

"Good. Now, we're supposed to have dinner at Per Se on Friday with my colleagues, like I said. Would you wear something like this? Because honestly, if that's what you want, I'm fine with it."

From anyone else, the question might have sounded condescending. Utterly preposterous and designed to make me sound like a total idiot. In those circumstances, too, I would have thrown a fit. Told the speaker to fuck right off, that I wore what I liked, and they could go screw themselves if they didn't like it.

I'd done it more than once to Shawn. Other men I'd "dated." My sisters. Even Nonna, though with maybe more appropriate language.

But right now, I didn't see a shred of that condescension in Nathan's eyes. He wasn't judging me. He just really wanted to know what I preferred. What I wanted.

"Is—is that a nice restaurant?" I wondered lamely.

Nathan nodded. Again, without a drop of shame. "It has three Michelin stars."

Well, I knew that was good. Having a famous chef for a brother-in-law had at least taught me that much.

"Well, then, no," I finally said. "I wouldn't wear something like this." And then I admitted something I probably never would have admitted to anyone else. "At least, I don't think I would. I don't really know what to wear. I've never been to a restaurant that nice."

"So, what do I say here?" Nathan gave my hand a little shake. "What would a good boyfriend say? I don't want you to feel bad about this. I just want to help."

And he did. Finally, I could see it. Nathan wasn't trying to make me into something I wasn't or tell me I wasn't good enough. He was as lost as I was, trying to do his best.

"A good boyfriend would say exactly what you just said," I told him honestly. "And then, you know, we'd probably have some crazy makeup sex in the dressing rooms."

Immediately, Nathan's face flushed the color of the bright red dress hanging from one of the mannequins.

"But we can skip that part," I quickly amended. "Don't worry, I won't jump you. Again, I mean."

"Do you, ah, want me to kiss you?" Again, he didn't look like he was joking.

And, of course, he wouldn't. Stupid me, I should have remembered. Nathan didn't joke much. Or at least didn't really understand mine.

"Uh—Well—I—" The moment couldn't have needed clear communication more. And here I was, stumbling over every word.

"It's probably not a bad idea," he said like he was thinking through the weather. "We'll probably have to kiss here and there in front of people to seem genuine. Nothing profane, of course, but we should probably practice a few times, so it isn't awkward." He blinked. "Don't you think?"

I shrugged, though every cell in my body was suddenly dancing in place at just the idea of kissing this gorgeous man again. On purpose. And, you know, without being in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

Don't get carried away, Joni. It's just pretend.

I could pretend-kiss. I'd done it before onstage and kissed plenty of other people I barely knew, so I could definitely fake kiss someone as beautiful as Nathan Hunt.

So I popped up on my toes and smacked a quick kiss on Nathan's cheek, surprising him right out of holding my hand, even into taking a few steps back in shock.

I grinned. "There. We kissed. All made up, just like if this was a real relationship."

At that, he frowned. "I think we should keep that between us in public. Don't you?"

I bit my lip. "Right. Sorry."

We stood there for a moment, shifting awkwardly on our feet. I wasn't sure what to say, and he was just watching me.

Where the heck was Andrea with the dresses?

"Is that how you would have kissed…him?" Nathan wondered.

I didn't have to ask who he was referring to. Something like jealousy flickered through Nathan's otherwise calm exterior at even the barest insinuation of Shawn. No, not jealousy. Something stronger but less toxic. Wariness. Protectiveness.

"I—no," I admitted again. He really was getting all my secrets out of me. "Probably not."

Nathan studied me a moment more. "I don't want to make you feel the way he did either. I don't think he was a good boyfriend."

I shook my head. "Ah, no. He definitely was not."

Nathan nodded like something had been confirmed. And then, looking much more determined, he placed his hands on my cheeks and set his lips back on mine.

Obviously, I'd been kissed before. Kisses in games when I was still in middle school. Kisses on the subway or buses or the back seat of a car. Kisses on street corners or as I tumbled into a stranger's bed, or kisses through a music-riddled haze at the back of a party. Kisses from Shawn, of course, and kisses from other dates, too. Kisses from too many people to count, to the point where they all bled together, and I couldn't really remember any of them clearly.

Every detail of this kiss was as vivid as a brand-new Crayola box.

Nathan's firm mouth, a quick touch of tongue to tongue, insistent but not forceful, a nip of his teeth as they drifted over my bottom lip.

It was enough that I bit back. Just a little. It was like turning on a light.

The kiss went from zero to sixty instantaneously. His hand slid around to cup the back of my head; he slanted his mouth over mine, and his tongue twisted with such intensity that I didn't just forget where we were—I all but forgot my name.

It lasted only a few seconds, but that was enough to leave me breathless and Nathan sucking in air like he'd just run a marathon. When he stopped, his color had returned to normal, but those eyes were even darker than before. Deeper. Begging me to jump in and see just how sweet the rest of him really was.

That was when I knew that in a sea of fuzzy watercolor memories, my first kiss with Nathan Hunt would be crystal clear from this moment forward.

And I would never forget it.

"Holy shit," I breathed when he finally let me go. "Where in the hell did you learn to kiss like that?"

He frowned. "You didn't like it."

He looked so concerned, I almost laughed. But instead, I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back to me.

"No, I liked it a lot," I told him and kissed him again.

He startled but caught up soon after, wrapping a large hand around my neck, another at my waist, and started giving as good as he got. I hadn't made out like this with anyone since high school, and back then, it was a sloppy mess. Nathaniel, though, knew exactly what he was doing.

He wasn't kissing me like I was a nobody, a fling, a one-night stand. Or, I thought, like someone he hired to pretend.

He was kissing me like I was forever.

Like he wanted to steal that forever for himself.

"Whoa," I gasped when we broke apart at last.

Nathan was breathing hard too. "What?"

I swallowed. "Nathan, you kiss like a pirate."

One brown brow rose quizzically. "A pirate? Is that a good thing?"

"It's a very good thing." Lord, I could barely feel my lips. Or the cheek that he was currently stroking. "It's perfect."

More, the rest of my body cried out. Like an addict, every part of me was screaming for the rest of where that came from.

"Well, I pulled several things that you might like, dear—oh, how sweet."

We sprang apart at the sound of Andrea's voice. She smiled at us as if she was keeping a secret right along with us.

Lord. She had no idea.

"Ah, thanks, Andrea," Nathan said as he stepped to the side, though his hand lingered on my waist.

"Good to see you happy, dear," she murmured to Nathan as he took a seat.

He didn't answer. But when his brown eyes met mine again, they shone as bright as stars. Just like I was certain mine were doing too.

"Just tell her what you like and what you don't," Nathan said from the sofa while he stretched his arms across the back as if preparing for a movie marathon. "Then you can try things on while she looks some more. I'll help."

I blinked at the rack of dresses. A glance at one tag told me each cost more than I made in a month at Opal. Some of them, two or three times that much.

"I think Karlie Kloss wore this one," I murmured with a glance at Nathan. "I saw it on POPSUGAR."

I sounded like an idiot, bumbling about like I hadn't just had my face kissed numb in a room full of couture.

But neither Nathan nor Andrea said a word about it.

He just shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I've only met the Kushners a few times."

Well, it was close. In the same world.

The thought was actually kind of uplifting. If Karlie Kloss, the model who grew up in St. Louis, could make herself at home in this world, maybe there was hope for me.

"This one too," I said, pointing to a slinky green number that would undoubtedly match my eyes. "And that one. Ooh, that's nice."

Andrea smiled and set the ones I'd indicated into a dressing room. "That's a good place to start. Try on a few more, and then we'll really have some fun."