Emma George lowered her voice and asked, testing the waters, “Is it free?”

Emily Blair shot her a wry look. "Of course not. At best, they'll give me a little discount."

Emma didn't seem bothered by the answer. She leaned in, ruffling Emily's hair with practiced familiarity. "Even if you don't need to go out shopping, you still have to do something about your hair. How long has it been since you took care of it?"

“Mom, give me a break. I'm exhausted these days."

Emily flopped back against the sofa, head tipped back, batting her eyes at Emma with mock innocence.

Emma eyed her for a long moment, her expression softening just a bit.

"I'll just throw it up in a ponytail when I go out. I don't want to get my hair done—it takes too much energy."

Emma hesitated, then finally relented. “Fine, forget the hair appointment. But call the store now and have them bring the clothes over. Don't wait until the last minute."

Resigned, Emily pushed herself up from the couch.

"Where are you going?" Emma called after her.

"My phone's in my room. I'm calling now, so I don't waste time," Emily replied, waving a hand dismissively as she headed down the hall.

"That's more like it," Emma muttered. "Hurry up, I'm checking everything."

Elizabeth Wilson had barely stepped through Emily's front door when she was hit by a riot of color—clothing piled everywhere, covering almost every surface. She froze, staring for a few seconds, then backed out into the hallway, double-checking the apartment number to make sure she hadn't walked into the wrong place. Satisfied, she looked back at the explosion of clothes, her eyebrows slowly rising in disbelief.

Brightly colored dresses and tops were stacked so high in the living room that the sofa and coffee table were barely visible.

Elizabeth shut the door carefully, tiptoed around the heaps of fabric, and found a narrow path through to the other side. As she walked, she called out, "Emily, did your place get ransacked or something? Come out here and see this!"

Just as she finished speaking, she found herself face-to-face with a store employee in a smart uniform.

The employee gave her a polite smile before turning away to lift an armful of clothes from a rolling rack.

Elizabeth was stunned. She dropped onto what little was visible of the sofa and called for Emily again.

"Coming!" came the answer.

Elizabeth looked up to see Emily shuffling toward her in baggy pajamas, pushing aside a rack of dresses, her face a mix of embarrassment and resignation.

“What happened here?” Elizabeth asked.

Emily groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead as she sat down. "Don't even ask." She'd only called the store to request a few outfits for delivery. Unbeknownst to her, Emma had been eavesdropping, snatched the phone away, and told the clerk to bring every possible option—insisting, loud and proud, that they could afford it.

Now, faced with the avalanche of clothing, Emily could only grit her teeth in frustration.

She gave Elizabeth a quick rundown of what happened. Elizabeth, lowering her voice and glancing at the store staff, asked in surprise, “You're going on a blind date?"

Emily nodded, defeated. "I don't have a choice."

Elizabeth glanced over at the employee again, then leaned in closer, her tone half scolding. "But what about Tristan Davis?"

Emily's throat tightened. "What about Tristan Davis?"

They locked eyes, neither one looking away.

Elizabeth pointed an incredulous finger at her. "Seriously, you!"

Just hearing Tristan's name made Emily feel inexplicably guilty.

Elizabeth let out a long sigh. "Forget it. Whatever. Just pick something to wear. With

this many options, who knows how long it'll take?"

Emily shrugged. “You pick something too. Consider it a gift from me.”