When the initial shock disappears, I turn the lights off, carefully close the door, and move to the next one. Not knowing what to expect after the bathroom, I pull it open slowly. It’s a closet.Thecloset. The closet of the dreams of any woman out there. And it’s stocked too.
If I expected to see boring black and white colors, I’m proven wrong. The clothes are colorful. And edgy—I discover when I start moving through the racks. Tons and tons of clothes. Dresses, shorts, pants, shirts, leggings, boots. Everything is here. And every single thing is something I’d wear. Everything.
My eyes are tingling. My nose is itchy. I rub it, trying not to cry. But I can’t.
Somehow, in this short period of time, he’s come to know me more than anyone else. More than my parents have ever known me.
I run my hands through expensive materials, remembering how much I loved the feel of it. How much I loved creating new clothes from what I had. Because what our parents made us wear was awful and boring and belonged in a fire.
I don’t notice how my cheeks turn wet. I start wipingthem with no use—the tears don’t stop coming. And those are happy tears. I didn’t know it felt so nice to be seen.
When the stream turns not so steady, I wipe the leftovers from my eyes and cheeks and head outside, not bothering to look at the mirror. Ezra has seen me at my worst, plus I’m not there to seduce him.
“Ezra,” I start, pushing the door open. “I wanted to?—”
He turns around. His hair is wet. The droplets of water run down his bare chest, then down to his equally bare torso, and then get absorbed by the white towel wrapped around his hips. The towel reaches his knees but doesn’t cover the bulge underneath it. I know Ezra is packing, and his package happens to come in equally big sizes of everything. He likes big things. Turns out, I like them too.
“What happened?” He strides toward me. “Why are you crying?” He grabs my chin and brings my face up, his intense eyes darting between mine.
“I’m just—” I clear my throat, trying to find my wits again. I’ve never been known to lose my brain cells over a naked man, but Ezra has been showing me the new me. Apparently, his naked body has this effect on me.
He suddenly pulls away, dropping his hand. “Is that another trick?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“No,” I say back simply. “I was just touched by your gesture.”
“What gesture?”
“That gesture.” I wave back at the door like he can understand me. “You know, buying me all that stuff.”
The apples of his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. And I don’t think it’s the after-shower effect. “I didn’t buy anything. I have a personal shopper who did.”
“I figured.” I smile softly. “But they wouldn’t have known what to buy if you didn’t tell them.”
He shrugs one shoulder, grabbing the hem of his towel and tucking it in deeper.
“Thank you. No one has ever done something like that for me.”
Another shrug. “Yeah.”
My smile grows more confident. This is new territory for him too! So I nod and turn to walk back to my room. But I stop right before I leave.
“How did you know I was going to pick that room?” I ask him with narrowed eyes.
“Really?” He quirks a brow, and another drop falls down and rushes down his face to his corded neck.
“How?”
His chest expands with a sigh. “It’s the only room with any color in it. You like color.”
“How do you know?”
He just keeps watching me without replying.
“How, Ezra?”
“I know you more than you think I do.”
I pull the inside of the cheek between my teeth—something I do when I’m thinking. Hard. When I draw a blank, I ask him again with a sigh, “How did you know about the products and all that stuff? How did you know those are my favorites?”
