Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) (24 page)

“She won’t find out.”

Zoey nodded, shaking her hands as though trying to shake off her nerves. “We’ll tell her about it after their honeymoon and have a good laugh.”

Phillipe pulled up in front of the tuxedo shop, and Mitch got out. He turned around, surprised to see Zoey still inside the car. “Aren’t you coming?”

She shook her head. “I made an appointment to get my highlights changed. Teal will totally clash with my lilac bridesmaid’s dress. I’m heading to Madame Rousseau’s afterward to look at wedding dresses.”

“We have to meet Juliette at four.”

“I know. I swear I’ll be done by then.” Zoey pulled the door shut and gave a little wave as Phillipe whipped back into traffic.

Mitch shook his head, unable to hold back a chuckle. He had to admire the lengths Zoey was willing to go to for a friend. She had fought tooth and nail the last few days to make their fake wedding appear convincing as Alan watched, all while making sure everything was ready for the real wedding. Anyone would be lucky to have Zoey on their side. It was hard to find that kind of fierce loyalty in a person.

A bell jingled as Mitch opened the door to the tuxedo shop. A balding man with a gray handlebar mustache looked up from the magazine he perused at the front counter.

“
Bonjour
,” he said.

Mitch really hoped he spoke English. “Hello.”

“Ah,
américain
. How should I help?”

Mitch smiled, the relief flowing through him. Between this man’s broken English and Mitch’s ridiculously poor French, they’d get by. He wished Zoey was here with her animated sign language and bright smile to help him out. She had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, even if communication was difficult. That skill had come in handy the last few days as they alluded Alan and tried to throw together a believable fake wedding.

She’d been gone five minutes, and already he missed her.

An hour later, Mitch stood on a raised pedestal and stared at his reflection in the three-sided mirror. The tailor smoothed the lapels on the tux and nodded enthusiastically. The cut was sleek, the fabric a rich black. Mitch could almost see the admiring glint in Zoey’s eyes as she gave him a once-over. She’d make some sassy comment about the fit of the suit that would make him want to kiss her breathless.

Mitch straightened the silk tie and adjusted the vest. This tuxedo made him feel strong and confident. It made him feel like a relationship with Zoey might be possible.

This was the kind of tuxedo a man could get married in.

Well, fake married, at least.

The tailor fussed with the fabric, but Mitch knew there would be no time for alterations. The fit was good enough, and he could have it tailored when he returned to California. Zoey wouldn’t care about the fit, anyway. Her positive attitude was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. Nothing got her down. Even as they ran all across the city, desperately trying to avoid Alan, she’d stubbornly clung to her glass-half-full optimism.

Mitch adjusted the cuff link on one sleeve. Maybe he and Zoey weren’t as poorly suited to each other as he’d assumed. They’d made a pretty great team while in France. And even after six months of trying to hate her, their chemistry hadn’t faded.

“You like?” the tailor asked.

Mitch’s stomach swooped. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

“
Oui, oui,
” the man said, nodding.

Maybe he and Zoey should give each other another chance. He understood now why she’d kissed someone else, and her skittish fear of a relationship made sense, in a strange way. But if they were honest with each other this time, maybe they could make it work.

Mitch changed back into his own suit, then paid for the tux. Outside, he placed the garment bag in the trunk of the car, scanning the street for any signs of Alan. It didn’t take long to find him. He leaned against a shop window across the street, his camera on a strap around his neck. He lifted a hand, giving a mocking salute.

Mitch’s jaw clenched, and he slammed the trunk shut. His phone began to ring, and he yanked it off his belt. Jasmine.

Mitch slipped inside the car. “Let’s go get Zoey,” he told Phillipe, then answered the phone. “Jas, what’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”

Guilt slammed into Mitch. He was jumping to conclusions with his sister, just like he had with Zoey all those months ago. “Sorry. It’s been a stressful few weeks.”

“Don’t tell me Paris is stressful, or I won’t want to go there.”

“What? Back up. You’re going to Paris?”

“The end of September. I just got my itinerary today.”

“What about the internship? And how are you affording that?”

She couldn’t even stick with it for two weeks. Was it too late to grease some palms and get her re-enrolled in school? The semester had barely begun.

“I’m going with the design house.” Jasmine’s voice bubbled with excitement. “They picked me as the intern who gets to go to Paris fashion week. I’m not being paid for my time, but the trip is one hundred percent covered by them.”

Pride warred with shame inside Mitch. There he’d gone again, making assumptions. Why couldn’t he accept that Jasmine did things differently than him, and that was okay? Good, even.

He’d been so sure she was ruining her life taking that internship. But it sounded like she was working hard and making a name for herself instead.

“That’s great, Jas. You must be really wowing them. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s crazy how it came about. You know that assistant that hates me? Well, she tried to get me fired.”

From an unpaid internship? Anger boiled in Mitch, and he wanted to hunt down that assistant and blacklist her from ever working in L.A. again. But he forced himself to stay calm, to not flip out. Because if he flipped out, Jasmine would clam up. And he was trying to be a better big brother. He loved that she was confiding in him. “That sounds intense. What happened?”

“She spilled coffee all over one of the samples we needed for a photo shoot and blamed it on me. My boss told me if I didn’t fix the dress in time, I was fired.”

“Oh, Jas. What did you do?”

“I tracked down the designer, and together we figured out a solution. By the time I got to the photo-shoot with the dress, someone had come forward and admitted they saw the assistant ruin the sample. So now she’s fired, and the designer was so impressed with my ideas that I get to go to fashion week!”

“That’s amazing.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe it’s really happening.” Jasmine was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. “I know you didn’t agree with my decision to drop out of college. And working at the design house has been more challenging than I ever imagined. But I love it, Mitch. For the first time in my adult life, I feel like I belong somewhere. I get to wake up every day and work somewhere I love. And even though interns get stuck with all the crappy tasks no one else wants, and even though I don’t get paid, I still wouldn’t change a thing.”

Just like I wouldn’t change a thing about Zoey.
Mitch brought a fist to his mouth, barely holding back a gasp. How had he not realized that before? Jasmine prattled on about wardrobe choices and worried about whether she could get a passport in time. But Mitch’s thoughts were firmly on Zoey.

She was chaotic and fun. She turned his world upside down. She was spontaneous and unpredictable and lived life with a zest he found both exhausting and exhilarating. They were completely opposite in every way.

But he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Oops, gotta go,” Jasmine said, bringing Mitch back to the present. “Thanks for being happy for me. I was worried you’d flip out again.”

“I’m so incredibly proud of you, Jasmine. You know what you want, and you aren’t afraid to take a risk to get it. Maybe one day, I’ll be more like you.”

“Thank you,” Jasmine said, and he could hear the emotion coating her voice. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Mitch. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mitch said and hung up the phone.

Five minutes later, Phillipe pulled up in front of the bridal salon. Mitch took a deep breath, then stepped out of the car.

It was time to get Zoey.

Zoey opened the door to Madame Rousseau’s with shaking hands, causing the tiny bell overhead to jingle. Madame Rousseau was changing a mannequin but looked up at the sound. Her face split into a grin.

“
Zoé
!” she said in her accented French. She motioned to the back room. “You here Brooke?”

Zoey shook her head. “Someone from the wedding planner’s office will be by later today to pick up the wedding and bridesmaid dresses. I’m actually here to buy a wedding dress for myself. Mitch and I are eloping this weekend.” She forced the words through her constricted throat. Would they really go through with it? Even a fake wedding felt too intimate.

It scared her how much she wanted it to be real.

Madame Rousseau’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands. “You marry?”

Zoey nodded.

“You dress?”

Zoey nodded again, running a hand through her new lilac highlights. They’d look fantastic with the bridesmaid dress. Hopefully they’d look just as good in her own wedding pictures.

Fake wedding pictures,
she reminded herself. It wouldn’t matter how her hair looked.

Madame Rousseau jabbered in French and motioned for Zoey to come. Zoey adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder and followed her down the hallway.

It wasn’t like this was a real wedding—it was purely for Alan’s benefit. It might not even have to happen. She’d find the least expensive gown, no matter how traditional it was, and grin and bear it.

And she definitely wouldn’t think about what it would be like to marry Mitch for real.

Zoey walked into the room and let out a gasp. Gone were the traditional wedding dresses from the front of the store.

“You like?” Madame Rousseau asked.

“Oh, yes,” Zoey said. “These are perfect.”

Madame Rousseau bustled around the room, pulling dresses off hangers and dropping them in Zoey’s arms. The pile grew until Zoey could barely see over the top of it, and then Madame Rousseau motioned her into a dressing room. Zoey stripped to her underwear, picked up the first dress, and started to change.

She’d never obsessed over her future wedding the way Brooke had, but Zoey had thought about it. And she’d never been able to visualize herself in a traditional princess wedding gown. These dresses were anything but traditional. Zoey tried on a rockabilly wedding dress with a red tulle underskirt. She tried on a two-piece skirt and shell top combo that showed a strip of her stomach. She tried on a bohemian style dress in a rose pink. But she knew the moment she’d found The One.

The dress slid over her hips, the silk smooth and soft against her skin. Zoey turned around and let out a sigh. When her clients spoke of love at first sight, it always took a lot of effort not to roll her eyes. But now she understood. This dress was perfect.

She opened the door and stepped onto the platform. Madame Rousseau clasped her hands together and smiled.

“
Simplement parfait
,” she said and motioned for Zoey to turn around so she could fasten the buttons.

Zoey admired her reflection in the mirror. The dress had a 1950s feel, with a sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice that flared out at the waist. The cut was similar to the dress she’d worn to Disneyland—the dress she first kissed Mitch in.

A black sash wrapped around the waist and held a flower made of black, red, and white polka dot fabric. Zoey slowly turned, arching her neck to take in the cutout back. She loved the way the skirt just brushed her knees with a gentle
swish
. This was a dress she could dance in.

“I love it,” Zoey whispered.

Madame Rousseau held up a finger, and returned a minute later holding a birdcage veil with a delicate, glittering peacock-design hairpiece encrusted in gemstones. She motioned for Zoey to bend down, and then gently pinned the veil into Zoey’s hair.