Page 155 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I wait while Perry checks us in and passes our bags to a bellboy who will presumably deliver them to our rooms, then we cross through the posh lobby and approach the ballroom where the reunion is taking place. There’s a table just outside the room where several women are checking clipboards and handing out name tags.
Perry’s steps slow, and I sense his entire body tensing beside me. I follow his gaze to a striking blond woman standing behind the table. She’s holding a clipboard and has an air about her that says she’s in charge. Combined with Perry’s reaction, it’s all the evidence I need to know that the insanely beautiful woman in front of us is Jocelyn.
Any confidence I’ve pretended to feel regarding Perry having fully and completely gotten over his ex-wife vaporizes into the air. Jocelyn isstunning.Tall. Slender. Shiny, frizzless hair. Perfectly contoured cheekbones. She’s wearing a very small black dress revealing legs that reach all the way up to her armpits.
I . . . cannot do this. My steps falter, and I grab onto Perry’s arm, then tug him around a giant wooden pillar so we’re hidden from view. “I changed my mind,” I say. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Perry frowns. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and lean it against the cool wood behind me. “Nothing. It’s just . . . the music feels really loud, don’t you think?” The musicdoesseem loud—the bass thumping through the ballroom walls and filtering out to the lobby where we’re standing, though I’ve never been one to shirk away from a party before.
But this is different.
“You don’t want to go because of the music?”
I don’t want to go because his ex-wife looks like she could star in his brother’s next box office hit. There’s real-world attractive, and there’s Hollywood attractive. And Jocelyn is one-hundred percent Hollywood attractive.
I peek around the corner, looking at her one more time, and Perry follows my gaze. “That’s her, isn’t it?” I ask.
He rubs a hand down his face. “That’s her.”
“Perry, she’s not going to believe you’re actually here with me. She’sstunning.You were married toher,and now you’re here with me? No. No one is going to buy it.” I realize as the words come out of my mouth that I sound like I’m fishing for compliments.
“Lila—”
I hold up my hand. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m pretty, Perry. I’m just being a realist here. I know I’m not terrible to look at. But she isexquisite.”
Perry leans against the pillar beside me and folds his arms over his chest. “A couple things,” he says, “and I’m going to say them in order of importance, so you better pay attention.” He nudges me with his elbow, and I smile. “Are you listening?” he asks.
I roll my eyes, but secretly I’m loving that he brought out bossy Perry. “I’m listening.”
“First, you are so much more thannot terrible to look at.You’re beautiful. And the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more beautiful you’ve become. Which is significant because Jocelyn—and this is point number two—isonlybeautiful until she opens her mouth. You get to know her? She gets ugly really quick.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks. It’s been a long time since someone has complimented me so openly. Not since before I started dating Trevor. Well, that’s not entirely true. There was a two-year stretch before I got pregnant with Jack when I mostly lived on saltine crackers and lemon water in an effort to fit intoa dress Trevor encouraged me to buy for one of his military balls. I dropped twenty-five pounds and fit into the dress, high on the compliments my husband was suddenly delivering with unprecedented frequency.
I was also starving.
When I found out I was pregnant with Jack, I’d never been so happy to have a reason to eat like a human again.
Trevor tried, after Jack was born, to coax me back down to the size six I’d been for a very brief moment in time. But by then, I had someone else to live for. Jack needed me healthy more than Trevor needed me skinny.
“Now, if you want to leave,” Perry continues, “we can walk out of here right now, hit the burger joint down the street, and sneak back into the hotel and spend the evening watching bad television and eating overpriced Peanut M&Ms out of the minibar.”
I chuckle. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”
“But if the only reason you don’t want to go in there is because you don’t think you measure up to that woman?” He shakes his head. “You’re wrong, Lila. So wrong. I’ll be the luckiest guy in the room tonight. And I won’t be the only one who thinks so.”
“Now you’re just talking nonsense.”
“I’m really not though. I don’t know how to—” He shakes his head like he’s trying to find the right word. “To schmooze. To be anything but honest with people. It’s why I’m so terrible at small talk. I’m not very good at pretending a conversation—or even a person—isn’t boring.”
“We make small talk all the time.”
He shrugs. “You’re never boring.”
“You do tell it like it is, don’t you?”
“Always.” He winces like he isn’t happy about his answer. “Even when it isn’t a good thing. But I’m trying to work on that. On being kind instead of always being right.”
