Elin'sPOV

The shopping center is bright, almost too bright.

Aaron walks beside me, not touching. He's learned that much—keeping distance, waiting for me to close the gap. His hands stay in his pockets, his posture relaxed, like he's trying to prove he's not the man who once locked me in his penthouse.

I pick up a scarf, soft cashmere, and he glances at it but doesn't move. Doesn't reach for his wallet. Doesn't decide for me.

"You like it?" His voice is careful.

"It's nice."

"Then get ...