TIFFANY
After almost two hours of wedding dresses, I was exhausted, and still undecided. I sat on the small sofa while the assistant brought out another selection, Damian sat opposite me, looking entirely too comfortable.
“You’re enjoying this,” I said.
“Watching you try on dresses?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re enjoying watching me struggle.”
“Also maybe.”
I laughed. “Terrible man.”
“You agreed to marry me.”
“Temporarily.”
He smiled. “Still counts.”
I shook my head.
Then he stood. “I need to try on suits.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
“Because apparently I’m getting married too.”
The assistant laughed. “Come with me, Mr. Ashford.”
Damian disappeared into the men’s section, I followed not because I wanted to, at least, that was what I told myself. The first suit
