Hard Sell| ETHMA

6

"Asked for what?" he says, automatically opening the door of the store I've stopped in front of.

Instead of answering him, I step inside, waiting until he's followed me inside before glancing around for my usual salesperson.

"Emma! Hi. You got my message! I've been holding some of our fall stuff for you. Can I get a room set up?"

"Absolutely, I want to try all of it."

I hide a smile when Ethan lets out a tiny groan.

He's shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head, and he's looking around the store in that wary way men have when shopping is on the horizon.

Monica gives him a curious look, and I tug him forward.

"Monica, this is Ethan Dolan. Ethan, Monica has the best damn fashion sense in Manhattan and is largely responsible for making me look reasonably put together on a regular basis."

"Oh please, I could dress you in a bag and you'd look fabulous," Monica says to me as she extends a hand to Ethan.

He gives it a quick shake. "Pleasure."

"So, Mr. Dolan, are you just keeping Emma company, or can I talk you into trying on a few of our new menswear pieces?"

Ethan opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but I answer first.

"Oh, I've been dying to get him into a cashmere sweater," I say, rubbing my hand over his biceps in a way that lets Monica, and anyone else who might be watching, know just what we are to each other without having to utter the word boyfriend.

"Absolutely," Monica says, nodding enthusiastically.

"I have a bunch of things in mind. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get two rooms ready."

"Fantastic," Ethan mutters as he drains his coffee.
I pinch his arm, reminding him of what we're doing here. In turn, he drapes an arm over my shoulder, squeezing just a little too hard in retaliation, though any bystanders wouldn't know it by the adoring smile he gives me.

I give him a glowing smile right back. "How much are you wishing you would have checked with me before tagging along today?"

"Almost as much as I wish this coffee was of the Irish variety."

"You're in luck," I say, finishing the last of my cappuccino before nodding at another salesperson approaching with two glasses of champagne. "It's not whiskey, but . . ."

"It'll do," Ethan says eagerly.

"Can I take those coffee cups for you?" the woman asks with a bright smile.

We exchange our Starbucks for the champagne, and I scan the room as I take a sip. This is one of my favorite retailers, and since this is their flagship store, it's extra lavish, as the complimentary champagne would indicate.

Instead of cramming every spare space with tables and mannequins and merchandise, Max & Belle has created a place intended for lingering, with plenty of plush seating and iPads with home screens set to the latest catalog. There are a few standing racks with samples of each item, but the majority of the inventory is kept I out of sight, adding to the impression that each item is one of a kind.

"How long you gonna be?" Ethan asks. "I can wait outside."

"Monica's bringing you stuff to try on."

"I don't want to try shit on. I have plenty of clothes."

"You have plenty of suits," I correct. "Sweaters, though?"