Andrew Pennington is tired. He's been frontman for the very popular band Manderley Dreams for years, and the constant touring, the hotels, the planes, even the girls, have all started to look the same. He wants the ride to stop, just for a while, so...
They left the coffee shop to a day that had grown even colder, to the point that Chiara legitimately felt bad to appropriate Drew's coat. She forced him to take it back, though it was ass-kicking cold by then.
"No, no, this isn't going to work," Drew declared, pulling her into a shop. He pointed out some very nice coats in her size, and asked her which she preferred. When she demurred, he said, "I'm going to choose if you don't, and I'm partial to the pea-soup green one myself, you ought to know."
She wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, so she quickly pointed at a pretty one that was powder blue.
Drew smiled. "Good choice," he agreed. "It will bring out your eyes." He gestured to the clerk, who had recognized him and was hovering. He pointed to the coat, and she hurried to grab Chiara's size.
She looked at the tag while waiting for the clerk, and saw that it was eleven hundred pounds. She dropped the tag as if it were scorching hot and turned to Drew. "Do you know how much it costs?" she hissed.
He shrugged. "About a thousand pounds?"
She shook her head violently. "More!"
"We're not doing this again, okay?" he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. He reached for the unflattering pea-soup colored coat, which also had a horrible faux fur collar. "You want this one instead?"
Chiara took a deep breath and shook her head.
"Look, it's Max Mara," Drew explained, as if that were supposed to mean something. "That's about the right price, so don't fuss about it." He saw how big her eyes were. "Think of it as a Christmas gift, yeah?"
"But I have a perfectly good coat," she fretted.
"So now you'll have two," he said reasonably. "Do you know how many overcoats my mum has?"
Chiara shook her head, fascinated.
"Well, I don't either, but it's definitely more than two," he responded.
The clerk returned with the coat, and Chiara couldn't help but smile as she slid her arms through the sleeves. It was soft, smooth, supple, all those wonderful, slippery words that started with "s" and just rolled off the tongue.
"It's a cashmere, silk and wool blend," the clerk told her. "That's what gives it this wonderful feel." She invited Drew to run his hand along the back, which he did, nodding his approval.
"Looks smashing on you," he told Chiara. "Have a look, dar--have a look," he corrected, directing her to the floor length mirror. "Do you like it on?"
Chiara nodded, unable to help herself. The shoulder seams fell perfectly, the sleeves were the perfect length, it had the casual slash pockets she loved, and a simple belt tie with no pesky buttons.
It was perfect.
She turned to Drew.
She didn't want him to think she was shallow, and that all was forgiven with the spending of some cash. But.
She didn't want him to think that she didn't know how to accept a gift, either. Or that she was ungrateful.
"Thank you, very much," she said softly. "It's as beautiful as the shoes, definitely the most beautiful coat I've ever owned."
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