Page 370 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Audrey needs something comfortable and easy to walk in,” I say. “Anything to help combat the odds of me falling on my face.”
“You’ll have Flint to hold you up,” Kate says. “He won’t let you fall.”
A wave of trepidation washes over me. Hewillbe there to hold me up. Probably with an arm around me, or a hand pressed to the small of my back. It scares me to realize how excited I am about that.
Maybe it’s just the exhilaration of the day. Or the acceptance and camaraderie I’ve felt from his sisters. Or it could be that Flint’s fingerprints are all over everything we’ve done—he’s doneso much to make me feel special. But for the first time, the trepidation I’ve grown so used to feeling every time I think about what’s coming shifts into something a little less frightening. It’s more like anticipation—the good kind of anticipation. The kind that makes my stomach flutter and my heart pound out of my chest.
“Okay,” Olivia says, pausing outside the door of Oscar de la Renta’s New York store. “A woman named Remy is waiting for us, and she’s handpicked several gowns for you to try that will compliment Flint’s red-carpet look.”
“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!” Lila says from just behind me. “Have you ever worn a designer gown, Tatum? Is it as amazing as I think it would be?”
“It’s pretty magical,” Tatum says, and I frown. I don’t even know what it means to wear a designer gown.
Tatum reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It just means you’re wearing a one-of-a-kind dress instead of something off the rack.”
“So, there’s only one? What if it doesn’t fit me?”
“They’ll make it fit,” Lila says. “Make whatever adjustments you need. Isn’t that part of the magic?” She looks at Tatum, who has become our source for all things even tangentially related to celebrity life.
“Don’t worry about the fit,” Tatum confirms.
“Okay! Let’s do it,” Olivia says.
I fall in love with the first gown I put on.
It’s ice blue—not far from the shade of my eyes—with a fitted bodice and a gentle flare that starts midthigh. A sheer sort of lacy mesh overlay with tiny flowers stitched on top (clearly, I have no idea how to talk about dresses) covers the entire dress, then extends over the chest and shoulders, making it look like the flowers are growing up and over my skin.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever put on my body. I press my hands against my stomach as if the gesture will calm the riot happening inside.
“I don’t think we’ll need to alter it,” Remy says, stepping up behind me and tugging gently at the fabric across my shoulders. “The fit is perfect.”
“You look so amazing,” Olivia says, and everyone else nods their agreement.
“Oh hey,” Tatum says, picking up my bag from where it’s sitting on a little bench behind the three-way mirror where Remy has me perched on a raised dais. “Your phone is ringing.” She pulls the phone from the outside pocket and grins. “You want it? It’s Flint.”
A chorus of squeals erupts around the room, like this is some kind of middle school slumber party and I’ve just gotten a text from the boy I like. Which is a weird analogy to make because I wasneverthat girl in middle school. I didn’t get texts from boys, and I didn’t have slumber parties. But right now, with all these women cheering me on, it’s easy to guess what that might have felt like.
Tatum steps closer and hands me the phone, and I quickly answer it before the call cuts out. “Hey,” I say, a little breathlessly. “Hi. Hello.”
“Having fun?” Flint’s smooth voice triggers a wave of goosebumps to pop up across my skin, and my heart rate quickens. I lift my free hand and rub it across my bare arm as if the gesture alone will calm my racing pulse. I look up and see five sets of eyes on me. “I am, but…actually, hold on.” I step off the dais and move toward the dressing room behind me. I look back at my ever-eager audience. “I’m just going to take this back here,” I say. The heavy dressing room door won’t provide a ton of privacy, but it’s better than nothing at all.
“Okay, I’m here,” I say, collapsing against the wall before remembering the very expensive dress I’m wearing and standing up tall again. “Sorry about that. How are you? How was your meeting?”
“Productive,” Flint says. “I feel really good about the direction we’re taking things.”
“Good. That’s good news.”
“How hasyourday been? Have you gotten everything you need?”
“Flint, I’ve gotten so much more than I need. Olivia is relentless. You might hate me when you finally get your credit card bill.”
“She was only following my instructions,” he says easily. “And I’m not worried about the bill.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I bought a pair of jeans that cost half my mortgage payment. Do you know how stupid that is? How many children could be clothed with that kind of money?”
“I’ll send over my charitable contributions for the year if it’ll make you feel better,” he says lightly.
“Just tell me it’s more than what you’re spending on me today. All of this just feels so…I don’t know. Extravagant?”
