Charlotte can hear Amelia jabbering away from the moment she walks through the door of the penthouse the next morning and she cringes, the annoyed tone wafting through the foyer and bouncing off the walls and marble floors, surrounding her in a cacophony of perturbed exhalations and irritated mutterings. She tenses as she shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on the stand by the door, wondering just how much flack she’s going to get for the previous day’s detour in the schedule. Justin had said he would take care of Amelia and while Charlotte didn’t doubt that he would try, she also knew that Justin seemed to be a little inept when it came to Amelia’s mercurial personality. She takes a deep breath, following the sound of voices, one Amelia’s clipped exasperated tone, the other apologetic and unidentifiable.

“…and I want the vases wiped down every other day.”

“Si, Miss Domineck.”

Charlotte steps into the bright kitchen, the overcast morning glowing feebly in the airy room. Amelia glows radiant in a chocolate silk halter dress, belted tightly around her slim waist, her hair twisted back in a tight bun. The older woman beside her is a good foot shorter than Amelia and about three times as wide, dressed simply in white, everything about her blending in except for the leathery copper of her skin.

“That’s all Marletta,” Amelia says with a wave of her hand as she shuffles through a few papers on the kitchen island and the woman nods, bowing her head as she scurries past Charlotte out of the kitchen.

Amelia is shaking her head, bringing a dainty white coffee mug to her lips, her other hand fisted on the gentle slope of her hip as she glances at the clock. Her face is perfectly silhouetted against the large window over the sink, the muted light making her profile hazy, giving her an ethereal glow. Charlotte is momentarily dazed by her beauty and shakes her head to clear it. How someone can look so perfect this early is beyond her.

“Morning,” Charlotte says softly and Amelia’s head turns sharply as if she’d been startled but she doesn’t jump, her body perfectly still.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Amelia says, her tone devoid of any emotion, her eyes turning back to the papers in her hand and Charlotte swallows hard. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Charlotte watches her carefully, Amelia’s perfect face stoic and indecipherable. She glances up at Charlotte, her blue eyes cold as ice and Charlotte has no doubt in her mind that a reprimand is coming. She wishes Amelia would just get it over with but she knows Amelia, knows half the fun is in the extreme stress her displeasure causes in those she’s irked with.

“No…no thank you,” Charlotte says as evenly as possible, walking cautiously into the room to stand on the other side of the kitchen island.

“It’s not very good,” Amelia scoffs, sitting the cup down and wrinkling her nose at it. “It’s been a rather stressful morning.”

“Has it?” Charlotte asks, her heartbeat increasing with every passing second. Why won’t she just get on with it?

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Well, the dry cleaners ruined my Chanel blouse. When you get back you have to find me a new one. Preferably someone who isn’t utterly incompetent,” Amelia practically snarls and Charlotte swallows hard. Well, at least she knows she still has a job. “Patti is off in Paris searching for the table cloths I want for the wedding party tables and she was supposed to be back three days ago to help with Justin’s tux but of course she’s not back yet.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “And I had to have a talk with the maid service because this place is filthy.” She sighs shaking her head. “Oh and Justin still isn’t awake.” She snatches her coffee cup bringing it to her lips, annoyed.

Charlotte merely nods in response. She doesn’t envy Kaitie this morning. Amelia looks at her watch, sighing and rolling her eyes at the time as she gathers the papers in front of her and shoves them into the Prada briefcase that’s sitting on the barstool next to her.

“Justin’s only agenda for the day are his fittings, yes?” Amelia asks, rifling through her bag and Charlotte’s stomach clenches.

“Yes,” Charlotte replies, bracing herself for the onslaught.

“Good,” Amelia replies simply and lifts her head, her ice blue eyes colliding with Charlotte’s green tinted orbs and Charlotte has to swallow the lump in her throat. “Please make sure yesterday’s little detour isn’t repeated.”

Charlotte stutters. “Y-yes, Amelia. Of…of course.” She nods.

“I realize that he’s difficult,” Amelia says sighing and she glances at the clock again, narrowing her eyes and glancing at the staircase across the kitchen. “He’s practically a force of nature. Hurricane Justin my mother calls him,” Amelia adds with a humorless chuckle. “But that’s why he needs you, Charlotte. He needs someone there to rein him in when he gets ridiculous ideas.”

Charlotte nods contritely but can’t help thinking that that is what he has Amelia for. Amelia nods once, grabbing for her coffee cup and draining it and that seems to be the end of it. Charlotte heaves a sigh of relief. Amelia purses her lips, glancing at the clock again before sighing, annoyed.

“He is the most impossible man,” she growls, stomping towards the staircase her heels rapping smartly on the blond oak floor as she approaches the staircase. “JUSTIN!!! FOR GOD SAKE GET UP!!! YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AT BROOKS BROTHERS AT EIGHT-THIRTY AND IT’S ALREADY A QUARTER TO!!!”

Charlotte cringes as Amelia rolls her eyes and hurries back over to her bag, checking its contents again and glancing at her watch.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you today,” Amelia grumbles and then jerks as if remembering something, her mouth forming a perfect “oh” as she reaches into her bag. “Justin’s schedule. 8:30 at Brooks Brothers, 9:30 at Gucci, 10:30 at Armani, 11:30 at Yves St Laurent, 12:30 at Ralph Lauren-”

“Um,” Charlotte says and Amelia looks up from her list, her eyes questioning, slightly annoyed by the interruption. “Did you make time for-”

“Lunch, yes,” Amelia says, waving a hand. “After Ralph Lauren he’s got forty-five minutes for lunch and his next appointment is with Barney’s at 2:15 and then finally John Varvatos at 3:30.”

Charlotte takes the paper from Amelia, Kaitie’s elegant scrawl indicating the addresses and times. Charlotte bites her lip, eyeing the forty-five minute window for lunch. Justin usually eats at noon everyday and if there is one thing you should never try to change, its Justin’s eating habits. He’s utterly impossible when he’s hungry.

“Don’t let him choose anything too over the top,” Amelia says, shouldering her bag. “Make sure he sticks to because he’s been having this ridiculous idea about a zuit suit,” she scoffs. “Just keep reminding him that the wedding is traditional.”

Charlotte is just about to respond when she hears the soft steady thump of bare feet on the stairs. Both women turn to find Justin staggering sleepily into the kitchen, his hair a ruffled curly mass atop his head, his face scruffy and unshaven, a pillow crease across his forehead. He’s still wearing his pajamas, thread bare blue plaid pants and a t-shirt that fits tightly across his chest. He shuffles blearily to the kitchen island and slides onto a stool, laying his head on his arms with a soft growl.

“You’re still in your pajamas?” Amelia accuses her voice laced with annoyance. “You need to shower and get ready. I swear if you miss your tux fitting again I will-”

“Amelia,” Justin groans, his voice scratchy and muffled from inside his arms. “It’s seven-thirty in the morning. Please wait till at least nine before you start bitching at me.”

Charlotte’s eyes go wide as Amelia’s narrow in rage, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she presses her lips into a thin line. Justin is seemingly oblivious to her anger, too sleepy to think about what he’s saying or even care about her reaction. Charlotte fears for his safety. But Amelia merely grits her teeth, placing a hand on his back and he jumps slightly as her nails curl in and she leans close to his ear, her breath fanning what little of his face is visible.

“Don’t curse,” she says lowly, her voice a warning and a sound of distaste pulls from his throat as she pecks his ear and pats his back before stepping back. “Good luck,” she deadpans to Charlotte, eyeing Justin disapprovingly before shaking her head and breezing out of the kitchen.

Charlotte watches her go, nothing but a blur of silk and the scent of gardenia lingers in her wake. Charlotte turns to find Justin still hunched over the kitchen island, his back rising and falling steadily. She bites her lip, taking a small step towards him.

“Justin?” she questions softly and gets no response. “J-Justin?” she asks again, a little louder this time and reaches out, poking him just under his shoulder blade. He twitches, groaning annoyed. “Justin!” Charlotte says, her voice sharp and he bolts up in his chair, nearly toppling off the stool as he jerks awake.

He sighs irritated. “Don’t…don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Charlotte says somewhat sympathetically, moving around the kitchen island to set her bag down and she watches as he looks around, blinking dazedly. “Tough night?”

“God you have no idea,” he groans, his head falling back to his arms. “She missed her calling doing A&R,” he says, his voice muffled in his arms. “She should have been a boxer with her stamina.” He pulls his head up, sighing. “It’s my own fault really. She was giving me the silent treatment until I finally convinced her to talk to me about it.”

“God, that’s the kiss of death” Charlotte says and then her eyes go wide in shock at her own statement. Justin’s lips twitch into a short smile.

“You’d think I’d learn by now,” he sighs, reaching his arms over his head and wincing as his back pops. “God that guest bed is horrible.” Charlotte’s eyebrows knit. He nods at her expression. “Oh yeah she made me sleep in the guest room. In my own damn house.” He grumbles. “Woman’s got some stones I’ll give her that.”

Charlotte’s eyes soften, feeling truly sorry for him for the first time. Not so much because he was constantly being treated like a naughty child who needs to be taught a lesson but because he failed to realize this. He failed to realize that Amelia ruled him in every sense of the word. There was no question in Charlotte’s mind of whose house this really was.

“You should get dressed,” she says softly and he sighs, his blue eyes closing in fatigue. “Your fitting is in…” She checks her watch and cringes. “…thirty minutes.”

Justin groans, his head falling back to his arms and Charlotte sighs.

“No…no don’t put your head down,” she says and Justin brings his face back up, looking at her wearily, his lips forming a pout and she can’t help but smile. “Come on…clothes.”

“I need a shower,” he says, ruffling his hair into complete disarray and Charlotte has to bite her lip to suppress her giggle.

“Then you better hurry.”

“Fine,” he sighs, growling slightly as he slides off his barstool, trudging back towards the stairs. “Make me a bowl of cereal will you?” he hollers over his shoulder before disappearing up the staircase.

Charlotte watches his retreating form, checking her watch again and grimacing. If they’re late for this appointment Amelia will have her head. She turns to the cabinets, slightly daunted by the number of them, wondering where on earth they keep the bowls. As she’s making her decision her phone rings, the jaunty polka blaring from the inside of her purse. She winces as she tugs it out of her bag, flicking it open without checking the caller I.D, doing anything to stop the noise.

“Hello?” she says breathlessly, opening the pantry, fairly certain that’s where they hide the cereal.

“Charlie Beth Puddin and Pie!!!” a booming male voice exclaims through the line and Charlotte can’t help the grin that crosses her face at the sound of her father’s joyous greeting.

“Hey Dad,” she says, a hint of laughter in her voice as she peers around boxes of rice and canned goods, looking for the cereal. She finds a box of bran flakes but keeps searching.

“How’s my girl?” he asks and she can hear tinkering in the background, the sound of metal on metal.

“Oh you know…fine,” Charlotte replies, crouching down to look on the lower shelves but finds nothing. Bran flakes it is then. “What are you doing?” she asks, wincing as the tinkering gets louder.

“Oh you know this damn faucet in the bathroom,” her father grumbles and a loud clang sounds. “Sonnuvah bitch!” Charlotte giggles. “Sorry honey,” he says with a sigh.

“Did you need something?” Charlotte asks, setting the cereal on the counter before opening cabinet after cabinet searching for bowls.

“Yeah I was wondering when you were coming in? Isaac already agreed to pick you up from the airport-”

Charlotte cringes. “Dad-”

“Don’t worry he won’t take the cruiser this time,” her father chuckles. “And I made him promise not to pretend to arrest you in the baggage claim again.”

“Thanks Dad,” Charlotte replies sarcastically but he doesn’t seem to catch it.

“So when you coming in? What’s your flight number? I hope you’re not taking that one airline, they always lose your luggage…” he says, the clanging in the background falling into a steady rhythm.

“Well I haven’t booked my flight yet. I-” Charlotte says, struggling to reach a delicate white bowl on the top shelf.

“Haven’t booked your flight yet?” her father booms and Charlotte nearly sends the bone china to the floor, her fingers fumbling before wrapping safely around the bowl. She breathes slowly. “You know those things get more expensive the longer you wait.”

“I do know that Dad but Amelia hasn’t picked when she and Justin are leaving for Memphis yet and I can’t book a flight until they do.” She responds, setting the bowl on the counter and cradling the phone under her ear as she opens the box of cereal.

“Well that’s just rude,” her father huffs and Charlotte smiles, shaking the contents of the box into the small bowl before turning to put it back in the pantry. “You want me to call and talk to her?”

The phone slides from Charlotte’s shoulder in horror and she just barely catches it before it slides down her arm. “NO!” she exclaims panicked and then swallows hard, sighing. “No…no Dad that’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, the clanging loud again and Charlotte winces, holding the phone away from her ear as she searches the drawers for a spoon.

”Yeah Dad I’m sure,” Charlotte says, scooting the bowl of cereal in front of the chair Justin had previously occupied, setting the spoon next to it neatly.

Just then Justin comes ambling down the stairs, muttering sourly to himself. His face is clean shaven, his hair set in neat waves, curling loosely at his temples. His suit is coal black, three flat silver buttons glinting on the cuff of his jacket as he adjusts his tie at his throat, smoothing his hands down his front.

“Dad I’ll have to call you back,” Charlotte says quickly and Justin eyes her as he steps closer.

“Okay Charlie Beth, Apple of my Eye, Tart of my Heart,” he sings and Charlotte chuckles. “Hey you get a lunch right? Call me at lunch.”

“I’ll try,” Charlotte says quickly, watching Justin watch her as he slides onto the barstool. “Bye Dad.”

She’s flipping the phone closed as her father bids farewell and she winces. She really needs to make more time to talk to him… and her mother…and her brothers. Being Amelia Domineck’s assistant doesn’t really leave much time for anything else.

“Was that your dad?” Justin asks, watching as Charlotte searches in the fridge for the milk.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says. “Is soy milk okay?” she asks, pulling the carton out and he makes a face. She turns back into the fridge. “Actually it seems to be your only choice.”

He frowns then nods, sighing. She hands him the carton and he opens it, wrinkling his nose as he sniffs the opening and shakes his head. He pours it into his bowl and goes to close the carton when he does a double take.

“Um…was this the only cereal in the pantry?” he asks, handing her the milk and she cringes, moving to put it back in the fridge.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, her heart beginning to race as he pokes the contents of his bowl with his spoon.

He peers up at her. “No Frosted Flakes?”

She swallows hard. “N-no.”

He sighs. “MARLETTA!!!” he hollers and Charlotte jumps. “Sorry,” he offers, grinning sheepishly at her as the maid re-enters the kitchen.

“Goo’ morning, senor,” Marletta says, her Spanish accent thick and Justin grins at her.

“Good morning Marly…I was just wondering what happened to my Frosted Flakes?” he asks and Marletta’s face crumples into a look of uncertainty.

“Miss Domineck threw away this morning, senor,” Marletta says softly and Justin’s frown deepens, looking longingly into his cereal bowl, poking at the bran flakes sadly.

“Okay…” he sighs and then as Marletta begins to leave again he reaches for her arm stopping her, motioning for her to lean in in conference. “Could you get me another box and put it somewhere safe?”

Marletta blinks at him before smiling slowly and shaking her head. “Si, senor. I get for you.”

“Marly I love ya,” he says grinning and the older woman pats him on the shoulder affectionately, chuckling as she leaves the room.

Justin scrunches his nose at his cereal before digging his spoon in and taking a bite, chewing slowly before swallowing and smacking his lips, his tongue snaking out to lick his bottom lip and he grimaces.

“Charlie can you hand me the sugar or something?” he asks sighing and the urge to roll her eyes isn’t as strong as it usually is as she turns and searches for the sugar bowl. She must be getting used to it. She should be since its pretty much the only way he addresses her now.

“Where is…oh there it is,” she mutters to herself, grabbing the small sugar dish by one of his handles, her other hand flying to hold the lid in place as it almost slides off the top.

She sets it in front of Justin who smiles his thanks, piling sugar into his cereal bowl and turning it over and over to mix it in. He takes another bite and seems somewhat satisfied, sighing as he gazes out the window.

“How cold is it today, Al?” he deadpans, invoking their little inside joke from yesterday and Charlotte narrows her eyes at him, pursing her lips so as not to smile when a grin pulls across his face at her reaction.

“Very,” she replies, a shiver running through her as she remembers her rush from the curb to the front door of the building.

He grumbles. “Just perfect.” He shovels another spoonful of cereal in his mouth and winces at the taste and by the look on his face it takes all his willpower to force it down. He sighs. “Let’s just go,” he grumbles wiping his mouth swiftly with his napkin and crumpling it in his fist, moving to drop his bowl in the sink. “Wouldn’t wanna be late.”

His sarcasm isn’t lost on Charlotte. Some day this was going to be.

***

A horn blares and he feels a small hand catch his elbow, tugging him back before he walks headlong into midmorning traffic. He growls, rolling his eyes and waiting impatiently. They’ve been doing this all damn morning. Hopping from shop to shop trying on tux after tux, vest after vest, strip down, measure, dress up, strip down again, back in his own clothes. If he’d had any sense he would have dressed casual. His stomach growls. And forced down more of his breakfast.

“I hate this fucking city,” he spats, glaring at the cars that are inching slowly down East Seventy-First Street.

“It’s just down the road,” Charlotte says evenly but he cannot be placated.

“It’s cold as fuck,” he growls, shivering hard even inside his heavy jacket and he glances at her just in time to catch her pursing her lips in frustration. “Where are we going again?”

“Ralph Lauren,” Charlotte says, craning her neck as traffic begins to slow and he watches as she steps out hesitantly before she scurries quickly into the intersection.

He follows somewhat reluctantly, catching up in a few strides. It’s spitting snow now, white flecks dotting Charlotte’s chestnut hair as he strides up next to her. She hisses, sucking air through her teeth and he looks over just in time to see her shiver hard, her hands fisted in the pockets of her peacoat. He feels guilty now, dragging her all over this godforsaken city in the middle of the Christmas shopping season in subzero temperatures, and he was being an ass on top of it all.

“We’re going to lunch after this I promise,” she says, glancing briefly at him, her face tense and he wishes she would smile more. “This is it I think,” she adds, surveying the royal blue awnings.

“Its fine I’ll just gnaw my arm off if I get really hungry,” he deadpans shrugging his shoulders, watching her out of the corner of his eye and he sees the corners of her mouth twitch. He pulls his face into a look of mock contemplation. “Do you think that would effect the cut on the tux?”

She smiles before mimicking his contemplative expression. “Probably, we’ll tell the tailor to account for that.”

Justin grins at her as he reaches for the door, gesturing her inside and he follows, the blast of warm air causing him to sigh in quiet thanks. The smell of new fabric and the musk of cologne assail his senses and he sneezes hard, shaking his entire body. Charlotte looks back at him slightly alarmed, her cheeks pink from the sudden temperature change and he smiles shaking his head at her.

“Cologne makes me sneeze,” he says, waving off her concerned expression and she finally does smile, chuckling a little to herself in the way that girls do when they think you’ve said something adorable. Amelia hasn’t done that in years.

“I’ll try not to put on so much next time,” Charlotte deadpans and he gives her a wry smile before shaking his head.

“Mr. Timberlake!”

Charlotte and Justin look up to see a thin flamboyant man bounding down the large wooden staircase. Justin cringes. He can’t be a day over twenty-five. His hair is short in back, but long in the front and slicked across his forehead, giving the appearance that the wind blew from the left and it sort of just stuck that way. He wears black frame glasses and a salmon colored dress shirt with a grey vest and trousers, all of which are rumpled just enough to show that it was done on purpose. He has a measuring tape draped around his neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. I’m Leo,” the man says, extending his hand delicately and Justin wonders if this is one of those situations where you have to give a limp handshake. He hates that.

“Pleasure to meet you, Leo,” Justin says, gripping the man’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze which seems to be satisfactory. “I’m Justin and this is my assistant Charlotte.”

Leo turns to look and Charlotte and his eyes light up. “Well aren’t you just adorable,” he exclaims fisting his hands on his hips and Justin has to bite back his laugh at the shocked look on her face. “Peacoats are so coming back in.” His eyes travel down her body appraisingly and he gasps when he reaches her feet. “And ballet flats! Honey, those are vicious! Where’d you get those?”

“Um…” Charlotte says, looking at Justin uncertainly and he merely raises his eyebrows in amusement. She turns to Leo and slowly replies, “Macy’s.”

He gasps again. “And a thrifty shopper too! Precious.” He sighs smiling at Charlotte before looking back and forth between the two of them. “Well we’re here for you today aren’t we, Justin?” He asks and Justin tenses slightly when Leo pats him on the chest but the younger man doesn’t seem to notice, already making his way up the staircase. “If you’ll just follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.

They share a look before Charlotte nods at him, indicating that he should follow first and he sighs, trudging up the stairs slowly. His eyes flit around the second story, suits and polos hanging enticingly from the racks. He almost wishes he were just shopping today. Anything to avoid dropping trou in front of yet another twenty-something retail assistant. You’d think he’d get better, the district manager or at least the manager of the store, being who he is. Then again he’s not really him anymore, not the platinum selling, grammy award winning artist. Not the actor. Not the producer. He is Amelia Domineck’s fiancé which if he were someone else he wouldn’t get all up in arms about him either. Or something. His brow creases. Now he’s confusing himself.

“Okay Justin dear if you could just come in here,” Leo says, swinging open double French doors, curtained for privacy.

Inside he sees a floor length three-way mirror in front of which is a small octagonal stage, or chopping block as he views it. This is where he gets to stand in his underwear. Great. The room is otherwise unfurnished aside from a few racks of jackets and pants, dress shirts and vests. There’s a small side table with cuff links displayed on velvet. There are three chairs off to the side for any guests that would like to witness his humiliation.

“Okay I just need you to strip down to your skivvies and we’ll get some measurements,” Leo says and Justin forces a smile, fighting the roll of his eyes as he unbuttons his coat. “Charlotte honey you can sit over there,” Leo adds as he takes Justin’s coat and Justin is somewhat relieved to find that Charlotte looks almost as horrified as he feels.

“Um…I can wait…” she swallows hard looking at the floor. “out…outside.”

Then again flustering her is always so much fun.

“Don’t be silly Charlie,” Justin says, waving a hand at her, enjoying the tight look she gets on her face over the nickname as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, Leo eying it appraisingly before draping it over a hanger. “You’ve seen a man in his underwear before haven’t you?”

“Well…” Charlotte stutters and Justin grins at the blush that creeps up her neck. “Yes…but-”

“This suit is just gorgeous,” Leo interrupts as Justin slips out of his vest. “Yves St Laurent right?”

“Um…yes,” Justin says as he begins to unbutton his shirt while Leo hangs the vest next to his jacket, admiring it before returning to take his shirt from him.

“They cut such great suits,” Leo gushes, eyeing Justin a little longer than was customary as he takes the shirt from him. “Of course so do we,” Leo adds, grinning. “We have soooooo many options for you to try today. Of course you’ll look fantastic in all of them but this is about you choosing what will look best for your special day.” Leo grins widely shrugging his shoulders up in excitement and Justin smiles back the best he can, waiting for him to turn before he undoes his belt.

“Justin,” Charlotte says, her voice slightly manic and he looks at her, finding her head down, her eyes flitting around the pattern on the Persian rug. “I…I really can just wait outside like at the other-”

“It’s fine,” Justin replies, stepping out of his slacks and as Leo flits away to hang them up he leans towards her in conference. “Don’t leave me alone with him. He makes me nervous.”

Charlotte giggles and his stomach flutters. “Afraid he’s going to try and have his way with you,” she asks, her green eyes dancing mischievously. “I could give you two some privacy if-”

“No,” Justin says, glaring playfully. “I need you in here so the kid doesn’t turn me into his own personal Barbie.”

“Well would you look at that!” Leo exclaims and Justin jumps slightly at the joy in his voice as he looks at himself in the mirror, clad in only an undershirt and his boxer-briefs. “You’re wearing our underwear.” Justin winces. This is all so horribly humiliating. He thinks he hears Charlotte giggle and he fights his own blush. “The Polo boxer-breifs are soooooo comfortable,” he sighs and leans towards Justin in conference. “And give great support.” Justin forces a smile as Leo winks conspiratorially at him.

Charlotte coughs but it sounds closer to a laugh.

“We have some great options for you,” Leo says, tugging a rack closer to the raised step. “We just need to get some measurements. If you could just step up here-”

“I have his measurements,” Charlotte says and Justin turns to look at her, finding her shrugging out of her coat, her dark hair falling like a curtain in front of her face as she paws through her handbag. “Here,” she says, retrieving a piece of paper and handing it to Leo, being sure to avoid looking at Justin. Her eyes flick quickly to his face, finding him looking slightly puzzled. “I had them write them down at the last place. No sense in them measuring you every time,” she mumbles before scurrying over to the chairs and sitting, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking resolutely at the floor.

If he wasn’t engaged he would have kissed her.

“Well okay then that’s one less step,” Leo says as he paws through the racks, snatching a white dress shirt. “This is our Classic Fit Wing Formal,” Leo says as he helps Justin shrug it on. “It’s a long-sleeved formal dress shirt tailored for a comfortable

classic fit.” He comes around front, taking both sides and Justin holds his arms open, bent awkwardly at the elbows, watching uncomfortably as Leo does the buttons for him. “Ultra-smooth, crisp cotton broadcloth for a sleek look,” he continues, situating the shirt front on Justin’s slim frame, “Elegant wing collar,” he says, adjusting the collar. “French cuffs.” He slips his hand into his pocket producing a set of cufflinks and hooking them through the ends of the sleeves, trapping Justin’s wrists in the fabric. “Split back yoke for a smooth, beautifully contoured shoulder,” Leo says, moving around behind Justin, smoothing his hands quickly across the breadth of his shoulders. “See, perfect. Tailor-made by God himself.”

Justin scrunches his nose, wiggling his shoulders a little. The fabric was nice albeit the shirt was a little tight across his back. Leo brought him the trousers next, Justin taking them from him quickly in case he got any ideas about helping him.

“The trousers are tailored with double forward pleats,” Leo says as Justin buttons the pants at his waist. They’re a little high for his taste and a little loose. “Belted waist with interior suspender buttons and adjustable button tabs at the sides.” Justin half listens as he tucks in his shirt, examining his reflection, shuffling his feet as the hemline pools around his ankles. “Oh, they’re unhemmed honey. We tailor that,” Leo adds, patting his arm as he goes to get the jacket. Justin sighs.

“And this is the single-button tuxedo jacket,” Leo says, helping Justin tug it on. “It’s tailored with a grosgrain lapel and button.” He tugs lightly on the lapels and Justin runs his hands down his front, the fabric smooth and soft beneath his hands. “Angled chest welt pockets,” Leo pauses as he taps them with a finger. “Flap welt pockets at the hips,” Tap. “And interior welt pockets.” Tap. “Finished with double-vented back and button detail at the wrists.”

Leo stands back to admire him and Justin eyes himself critically in the mirror. Can he see himself getting married in this? He tries to picture it. The vast interior of St. Thomas. The six bridesmaids and ushers. He tries to see the flowers and hear the music. He tries to see Amelia, his Amelia, dressed in white, standing next to him. It’s all a blur in his head, a fuzzy almost inconceivable blur. He sighs.

“What do you think Charlie?” Justin asks, turning left, then right, trying to look at his ass as discreetly as possible. He finds it non-existent as always.

She doesn’t respond right away and this causes him to turn to her, finding her gazing up at him, a look of awe on her face. Her mouth snaps shut as his eyes meet hers and he can’t help but grin. A jaw drop. He hasn’t gotten that in awhile. She sputters slightly, smoothing her hands over her skirt nervously and he hears Leo chuckle.

“My thoughts exactly, honey,” Leo smirks, fussing over the sleeves of the jacket.

“You drooled a little there, Charlie,” Justin chuckles, shaking his arms out as he preens a little in the mirror, humming softly to himself.

Leo smirks as he walks over to the table and comes back with a black bow tie, standing in front of Justin on the platform as he wraps it around his neck.

“I…I did no such thing,” Charlotte sniffs, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Justin.

“We have the perfect shoes for this too,” Leo says as he smoothes Justin’s tie against his throat.

As he scurries off, Justin tugs at it, feeling like he’s choking. He winces, swallowing hard. He turns to Charlotte and her eyes flick away immediately, looking over at Leo who is opening a box of shoes at Justin’s feet. Justin begrudgingly allows him to slip them on for him, wiggling his toes as best he can in the unrelenting leather.

“These are Sullivan Oxfords,” Leo says, buffing the toes with his shirt sleeve. “They’re calfskin and handmade in Italy.”

“What do you think Charlie?” Justin asks turning towards her and opening his arms, turning this way and that by his waist. He couldn’t really move.

“It looks…” Charlotte trails, her eyes roving across the breadth of his shoulders down his torso and legs to his feet. “…nice.” She clears her throat, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear.

“Nice?” Leo asks incredulously. “Honey, are you blind?” Justin can’t help but laugh at the expression on Leo’s face. He was growing on him. “You sure you’re straight?” Leo asks and Justin chuckles.

“Pretty positive yeah,” Justin chuckles, shaking his wrists and Leo sighs dramatically.

“All the cute ones are.”

Justin chuckles, humming still as he tries to raise his arms, pushing against the fabric that is binding him into one position. It gives but not easily. His hum turns into more of an opened mouthed run, his vocal chords vibrating softly and he bobs his head as the familiar song flows through him. Before he knows it he’s belting it out.

“Clean shirt, new shoes / And I don’t know where I am goin to,” he sings, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot and the grin that spreads across Charlotte’s face brightens the room. There was the smile he was looking for. He continues. “Silk suit, black tie,” he tugs on the ends of his tie, wiggling his hips the best he can in the confining suit. “I don’t need a reason whyyyyyyyy.” He holds his hand in front of his face and he can practically feel the mic in his hand, feel the lights, hear the bass. “They come runnin just as fast as they can…” He throws his arms out, but the tux catches him, only allowing him to raise them waist high but his voice soars like his body can’t. “Cause every girl crazy bout a sharp dressed man.”

“Oh it’s not just the girls honey,” Leo deadpans, chuckling softly and Justin comes back to himself and he’s him once again. The new him. Just Amelia Domineck’s fiancé. “Now, I have another tux that will look just heavenly on you…”

***

“Okay that only took forever,” Justin grumbles as they trudge down the staircase, his stomach snarling at him, demanding food.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says softly and Justin sighs. It’s not her fault Ralph Lauren offered a million different tuxedos and Leo wanted him to try on every single one.

“Where are we going for lunch?” he asks as they make their way to the doors.

“Well there’s this place called Fred’s,” Charlotte says, tugging the paper with their itinerary from her coat pocket. “Kaitie suggested it since our next stop is Barney’s.”

He nods, anything sounding good to him at this point. He reaches to open the door for her, holding his breath and bracing himself against the cold gush that was about to hit them. What he didn’t brace himself for was the array of flashbulbs that nearly blinded him.

“Great, just fucking great,” he growls, pushing his way into the crowd. “Charlotte call the-”

He cuts off midsentence when he turns and she’s not behind him. She’s still standing by the door, green eyes wide with terror as two of the six men close in on her, shouting questions and accusations, shutters clicking wildly. He grits his teeth, pushing back through, elbowing one photographer hard in the ribs to get him out of the way.

“Charlotte it’s okay,” he says, his hand closing around her bicep as he tugs her into the crowd, cameras snapping, everyone shouting.

He can feel her trembling and he’s sure it’s not from the cold. It’d been awhile since he’d done this, since he’d had to help someone deal with the cameras. He was so used to Amelia’s stop and pose routine, turning this way and that so they’d get a good shot. She called it ‘making the best of a bad situation.’ They were going to take your picture no matter what so why not make it a good one? But it still seemed like second nature to him as his arm wrapped protectively around Charlotte’s shoulders, tugging her swiftly down the sidewalk. She stumbled along and he knew she must be half blind from the flashbulbs. He could hear her panting, practically feel her heart hammering against his ribs as he tugged her body tighter against his. She ducked her head, turning slightly into his chest as the paparazzi followed them, three of them wheeling around to get in front.

“Who’s your girl JT?” one shouts and Justin ignores him, his face set in a hard mask of annoyance as he pulls Charlotte swiftly through the crowd.

“Where’s Amelia?” another asks, his camera flashing white and Justin slows his pace until his vision is only partially obscured by spots.

“Getting tired of blonds Justin?” another heckles, camera clicking just a foot away from him and he longs to reach out and smash the camera on the ground but he feels Charlotte press harder into him as one of the others edge closer to her and he forces himself to remain in control.

“How’s the wedding going?”

“Found a tux yet?”

“Isn’t it a little early for a mistress?”

The rapid fire questioning, the close quarters, Charlotte’s fear, its all getting to him, tensing his muscles and the anger swells. They need to get out of here. They aren’t too far from their destination but it is too far to walk with these bloodhounds on their trail and with the way Charlotte is clinging to him he knows she can’t take that. Calling the towncar would take too long. He wracks his brain for an answer…

“TAXI!” he shouts suddenly, dragging her closer to the curb, the arm that’s not around her flying into the air and mercifully one comes to a screeching halt in front of him. There is a God.

The cameras are still clicking brutally as Justin flings open the door and guides Charlotte inside. He folds himself in behind her, slamming the door shut and spitting directions at the driver who swerves back into traffic quickly. Justin leans back, filling his lungs with the rancid smell of the taxi and sighs it out again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He finally looks over and finds Charlotte panting, her green eyes still wide with fear, her face pale.

“Hey,” he says, turning to her and without thinking he grips her face in his hands, forcing her to focus her eyes on his. “Are you okay?”

Her cheeks are warm against his frozen fingers, her skin soft and dry. Amelia’s was always waxy and coated in matte and creamy blush when he was actually allowed to touch her face. The tips of his fingers brush her earlobes and it is a little surprising not to meet the cold metal of earrings, no diamonds or platinum to accidentally tangle in. As she nods her hair bushes forward over the backs of his hands and it is soft, no hairspray or gel, just hair.

He is so caught up in his assessment that it is a shock when he feels her cold fingers wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands away and he immediately pulls back, putting several inches of sticky seat between them. She forces a smile at him although her eyes are still slightly panicked.

“I’m okay,” she breathes, her voice unstable but he can tell she’s beginning to calm down.

“First experience with the paparazzi?” he asks and she heaves a shaky sigh, an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips.

“Uh, yeah,” she chuckles, settling back against the seat, her body finally relaxing. “For some reason not a lot of people are interested in my picture. It might be because I’m not famous.” She sniggers to herself.

“I’m not really famous anymore,” Justin shrugs, biting back the remark that he’s just Amelia’s fiancé. But he can’t help himself. “That usually only happens when I’m with Amelia.”

“Seemed like you knew what you were doing,” she responds, taking deep breaths still, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Well…” Justin says shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah…it used to be that way…all the time,” he shakes his head. “It was probably just the tux,” he shrugs. “Everyone’s going ape shit over this fucking wedding. I’m really not that big a deal anymore.”

“Really?” Charlotte asks, her eyes cutting to him as she represses a smirk. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Maybe they were there for you,” Justin shrugs and then smirks adding “You are New York City’s leading weather man.” He grins cheekily and Charlotte narrows her eyes.

“You’re never gonna stop with the Al Roker jokes are you?” Charlotte asks rolling her eyes but a smile is fighting to break out over her face.

Justin chuckles. “Not likely.”