Andy parked and killed the engine with a click, glancing over at her once more. "Remember — glow," he said softly.

  Summer gave him a look. "You just want to see me in sequins."

  "I want to see you happy," he replied, then leaned in to kiss her temple before slipping out of the car.

  By the time she opened her door, he was already rounding the hood, reaching for her hand with such casual certainty that she didn't have time to hesitate. His fingers twined through hers firmly — warm, grounding. Summer took a breath and let herself be led.

  The boutique stood quietly elegant on a side street, with an unassuming front but expansive glass windows that let the rich textures of silk, velvet, and tulle shimmer just inside. A hand-lettered sign on the door read LUX by Tim.

  "I've got you," he murmured, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed the top of her ear. "Nothing happens here without your say-so. Just play."

  She gave a small nod, and together they stepped inside.

  The air smelled like cedar and faint vanilla, soft music curling through the space. The boutique was all mirrors and old wood, racks spaced like art installations. From behind a curtain, a man emerged — slim, dark-haired, and all charm in black jeans, a deep green silk shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and silver rings.

  "Andy!" the man beamed, arms open. "You finally show your face again. Was starting to think you'd gone off and joined a cult."

  Andy laughed. "Only if this one counts." He tugged Summer gently forward. "Tim, meet Summer. Summer, this is Tim — artist, genius, and the one who's going to help me find something breathtaking for you."

  Tim's grin widened as he gave Summer a once-over — not evaluative, but like a jeweller appraising a rare gem. "Oh, you are Summer," he said warmly. "I've heard more about you than you'd probably be comfortable with."

  "That's... encouraging," Summer said, glancing at Andy.

  "Only the good things," Andy said smoothly, his hand never leaving hers.

  Tim clapped his hands together once. "Then let's begin. What are we feeling? Ethereal? Dangerous? Classic with a secret knife strapped to your thigh?"

  Summer laughed nervously, but the sound was genuine. "I think... Andy's the one with the vision."

  Tim arched a brow. "Well, then I suppose we'll play around until you see yourself and fall in love."

  Andy leaned in, brushing his knuckles along her waist. "And I get to fall in love all over again too."

  "Take a look around," Tim said, sweeping an arm around the boutique. "Touch anything you like. If it sings to you, we'll make it work. I want you comfortable."

  Summer gave a cautious nod, letting go of Andy's hand with a little squeeze before drifting toward a rack of deep jewel-toned gowns. She trailed her fingers along a cascade of midnight silk, the fabric cool and heavy beneath her touch.

  Tim waited until she was a few steps away, then turned to Andy with a sly smile. "So. That's her."

  Andy folded his arms, trying to look unaffected and failing. "Yeah. That's her."

  "She's exactly your type," Tim said, amused. "Shy but sharp. Has that wild hair you love. Pretty eyes. I can practically see the stardust dripping off you."

  Andy smiled despite himself. "It's different this time."

  "Is it?"

  "She said 'you're not a thing' the first time we met." His voice softened. "Didn't even know me. I was exhausted, in full makeup, probably looked insane — and she still saw a person. Not a fantasy. Not a job. Just... me."

  Tim's gaze flicked to Summer, who was gently lifting the hem of a velvet dress to examine its lining. "Damn. No wonder you're walking around like you're trying not to float off the ground."

  "I feel like I'm holding something rare," Andy said. "And I'm scared I'll mess it up."

  Tim elbowed him lightly. "Then don't. Now help me find the kind of dress that makes you want to faint when she walks out of the dressing room."

  Andy grinned. "Already scanning for it."

  He tracked her steps like a thread winding through velvet shadows. He saw the way she lingered by the dark red gowns first — lush, rich things with gothic silhouettes, fitted bodices and flaring skirts, dripping with shadowed elegance. She looked at them, then at him, as if to ask silently, Would I be enough in this? Would you still see me as beautiful? He gave her the smallest nod, the kind that meant yes, always, even if she hadn't voiced the question.

  Then something shifted.

  Summer's attention snagged on something behind him. Andy noticed the flicker in her eyes — the slight widening, the way her body leaned before her feet followed — and he turned to follow her gaze.

  It hung like a spell cast in silk and dream: a gown in shades of blue and green, fluid and sheer, the colour of tide pools and deep forests. Chiffon drifted down from off-shoulder sleeves, and the silk beneath shimmered like moonlight caught in water. There were tiny crystal embellishments at the waist, so subtle they might've been raindrops.

  Summer stepped forward slowly, reverent. Her fingers reached out and brushed the gown, just once, like she was afraid it might vanish.

  Andy came to her side, watching her expression more than the dress. "That one, huh?" he murmured, lips close to her ear.

  "It looks like something a sea nymph would wear," she whispered.

  "You are one," he said. "My sea-witch, come to charm sailors and programmers alike."

  Her cheeks flushed. "Do you think I could even wear it?"

  "I think you'd look like you stepped out of a dream and into my life," Andy said softly. "But let's see what the mirror says, yeah?"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Summer nodded, still half-hypnotized by the gown. Tim appeared a moment later with impeccable timing, offering to take it to a fitting room for her. Andy gently rested his hand on the small of her back as they followed.

  Andy gave Summer a little nudge toward the fitting room, his hand lingering at the small of her back. "Go on," he said, voice low and warm. "Let's see what magic looks like with your name stitched inside."

  She looked back at him once, uncertain but glowing, her fingers gently bunched in the airy layers of the gown.

  Tim gestured toward the fitting room with a knowing smile. "C'mon, I've got you."

  Andy lingered just outside the fitting room, leaning against the softly lit wall with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. He could hear the soft rustle of fabric inside, the quiet murmur of Summer's voice and Tim's calm, professional tone as he guided her through the fastenings.

  It shouldn't have bothered him. Tim was married — happily, devotedly, and Andy had even met his violinist husband. They had twins. But still, there was a brief, inexplicable flare of jealousy when he heard Summer laugh quietly at something Tim said, the gentle sound like water lapping over stones. It wasn't about Tim. It was just that Andy wanted to be the one who touched the silk to her skin, who saw her eyes widen at her reflection, who whispered reassurances when she hesitated.

  He shifted his weight and breathed out slowly through his nose, forcing the feeling down. Summer wasn't his possession — he knew that. But she was his in a different, more sacred way, and his heart ached with the ridiculous want to be closer, always closer. He turned away, scanning the racks of gowns to distract himself. None of them mattered. None of them had shimmered in Summer's eyes the way that gown had. And none of them would hold her the way his arms longed to — soft and reverent, like she was holy.

  He heard faint murmurs and the gentle rustle of fabric behind the curtain. Tim's voice was calm and professional, saying something about darts and shoulder seams. Andy's jaw tensed.

  Then: "Okay, ready?" Tim's voice called.

  Andy turned instantly, heart jumping.

  The curtain parted.

  Andy's breath caught as Summer stepped out. The boutique lights struck the gown just right — blue-green silk shifting like ocean water in motion, chiffon layers drifting with her every step. But it wasn't the gown that stole his voice.

  It was her.

  The colour made her hair blaze like firelight, all that knee-length red cascading around her shoulders like something out of myth. The fitted bodice hugged her gently, lifting her breasts in a way that made him clench his jaw. And the slit up the side of the skirt — oh. It revealed just enough of one thigh to make his thoughts derail completely.

  Andy swallowed hard, unable to stop the slow flare of heat behind his eyes. "You — " His voice cracked, so he tried again, lower. "You look like a storm-goddess who walked out of a painting to destroy every man who's ever dared underestimate you."

  She huffed a laugh, flustered. "That's... very specific."

  "Very dangerous," he murmured. "You're going to kill me. In front of witnesses."

  Tim, entirely unfazed, was already circling her with a few clips and pins in hand. "Needs just a tiny tuck at the waist and maybe half an inch on the hem. But otherwise — damn."

  Summer smoothed her hands down her hips, clearly unsure what to do with the attention. "It's... a bit dramatic."

  Andy stepped forward, voice low and hoarse. "Good. You deserve drama. You deserve to walk into a room and make people forget their own names." His eyes swept her again, lingering on that slit, then rising to her eyes. "If I bring you to the gala in that, I'm not responsible for the headlines."

  She smiled nervously, then reached for his hand. "You really like it?"

  Andy laced their fingers together. "Summer," he said, voice dark with sincerity, "I'd sell my soul to see you in that again. Lucky for me, I just have to buy the dress."

  Summer's fingers tightened in Andy's, her expression shifting from shy warmth to alarm. "Andy — no. You can't buy this. We've known each other for — what? two weeks?"

  Andy raised an eyebrow and gave her a lazy smile. "You think I can't afford it?"

  Summer stared at him, then waved at the dress with both hands. "Andy. This thing has layers. Silk. Hand-beading. I don't even know what this stitching is, but it looks expensive. You're — " She faltered. "You're not rich."

  "No?" he said lightly. "Funny, because I keep getting paid like I am. I do get paid for those assignations, you know. Some patrons tip like they think I can grant real wishes."

  "You do grant wishes," she muttered, half under her breath.

  He gave a crooked grin. "Exactly. And one of mine is seeing you in this again. Preferably at my side while everyone else wonders how someone like me ended up with someone like you."

  Summer looked down at the dress, smoothing the flowing fabric. "It's just — it's a lot. I don't want to feel like I owe you."

  Andy sobered immediately. He stepped close, touched her cheek gently. "You don't owe me anything, Summer. Least of all for a dress. I want to do this. Because I care. Because you deserve something luxurious and stunning and entirely yours. I'd trade ten nights of pretending to be someone else for one night of seeing you feel like a goddess."

  Summer swallowed, throat working, then whispered, "It's still a lot."

  He kissed her knuckles. "So? I'm not spending it on some random girl. I'm spending it on you."

  Her voice wobbled. "But we've only known each other two weeks."

  Andy leaned in, nose brushing hers. "I don't care. I don't want to play this safe and measured. I'm in, Summer. I already am."

  She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, and leaned her forehead against his. "You're kind of ridiculous."

  He smiled. "Yeah. And you're breathtaking. Let me do this."

  She hesitated, then looked up at him. "I can't promise I won't feel weird about it."

  "I can promise I won't let you feel alone in it," he said simply. "And if you say no, I won't push. I just... I saw you in it, and I wanted."

  That last word hung in the air between them like something fragile and precious.

  Summer swallowed. "... Let me think about it?"

  Andy nodded. "Of course. But for what it's worth... " His thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. "That dress just met the woman it was made for."

  He stayed quiet for a moment as Summer moved to the mirrors, absorbing her reflection. She stared at herself with a strange mix of awe and disbelief, fingers brushing lightly over the soft, rich fabric at her hips.

  "Where would I even wear this?" she murmured, more to her reflection than to him. "Aside from that one gala... It'd just hang in a closet. Too beautiful for errands or code releases."

  Andy came up behind her slowly, careful not to startle her. He met her eyes in the mirror and smiled, something quieter and more earnest than his usual teasing grin.

  "Then we'll find reasons," he said. "We'll make our own occasions."

  Summer glanced at him in the reflection, brows raised. "Like what? Fancy grocery shopping?"

  Andy leaned in, chin brushing her shoulder as he whispered, "Midnight rooftop dinners. Secret concerts. Maybe I'll write a song just to justify you wearing it again."

  She laughed, shaking her head. "That's not a good enough reason."

  "It's exactly good enough," Andy said. "If you feel radiant in it, then that's reason enough. Even if no one else ever sees you in it but me."

  Summer turned to face him fully, hands smoothing the dress self-consciously. "You're impossible."

  "And yet here you are," Andy said, smiling wide now. "Wearing the impossible. Looking like a myth."

  Summer's mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. "Do all your patrons fall in love with you when you talk like this?"

  He gave her a look of exaggerated innocence. "Only the ones with exquisite taste."

  Tim appeared beside them silently, arms folded, a knowing look in his eye. "You know," he said gently, "we do offer rentals. It's an option. Some of our clients prefer that, especially if they're not sure how often they'll wear a piece."

  Summer perked up. "Oh — that's actually — Tim, that's brilliant."

  Andy, however, stiffened a little. "No," he said, more sharply than he meant to. Then, softer, "No. I don't want to rent it."

  Summer blinked at him, surprised. "Andy — "

  "It's not about the money," he said quickly, glancing between her and Tim. "I mean — okay, it is a little bit. But not like you think. Renting means it goes back. That this dress isn't really yours."

  Summer touched the fabric again, her expression unreadable.

  Andy met her eyes. "I want you to own something this beautiful. Because you are this beautiful. I don't want you slipping out of it and handing it back like it was just a temporary fantasy."

  Tim smiled quietly but didn't interrupt.

  "Let me give it to you," Andy said. "Let me do this, just once. If you hate it, I won't push again. But — please. Let me make this real."

  Summer swallowed. "You're awfully convincing, dark genie."

  Andy leaned close, brushing his lips lightly against her temple. "That's because it's a real wish."