Page 78 of Leave Before I Love You
“I’m a changed man,” I tell her confidently, instead of getting embarrassed and tucking my tail. “These days, I find myself liking them a little younger. Twenty-seven, to be exact.”
“Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Blanche says with a wink. “This boy’s in love. Aren’t you, Henry?”
Avery’s eyes jump to mine, and I balk only slightly at the three-word expression neither one of us has been bold enough to admit yet. I want to, but I hardly think brunch hour with the Golden Girls is the appropriate time.
“Something like that,” I settle for saying instead. “I don’t have any plans to be anywhere else, with anyone else, anytime soon.”
Avery avoids my eyes and messes with the draping on Darla’s sweater, but I know what she’s thinking.She loves me too.It’s the only thing that would stun her enough to keep her quiet.
“So…how did you all meet my Avery?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going without putting too much attention on the only common denominator in this room—my girlfriend.
“YourAvery?” Ethel asks, a big smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes at my slip of the tongue. “She’s our stylist, of course.”
I smile.Avery Banks, stylist to the senior population of Miami.It’s both ridiculous and completely perfect for her all at once. I can’t help but think this is the true direction she needs to be going career-wise, and this, though adorably weird, is a great start.
“She’s the best,” Dottie chimes in. “She’s been helping us all look fabulous for months now. If it weren’t for Avery, I’d still be wearing last season’s Ralph Lauren.”
“And we can’t have that,” Joanne adds with a wink.
I glance at Avery, who’s doing her best to look unbothered, but the slight blush creeping up her cheeks gives her away.
“She’s a godsend,” Blanche adds, gesturing toward the rack of clothes. “Just look at all this. Her eye for fashion is unmatched.”
“Is that so?” I say, grinning as I turn to Avery, but she just flashes me a knowing look, a silent,don’t you dare say anything right now.
I give her a grin that says,I won’t embarrass you now, but we’ll talk later.
Avery hands Darla a fancy cardigan and guides her toward the mirror. “Try this on, Darla. See how it pairs with the pants? They’re perfect for accentuating your hips. Which, come on, girl, you have to know you have great hips. Don’t be afraid to show them off.”
Darla blushes but follows Avery’s instructions, and I take a moment to glance around the room.
A fancy tea set and an array of finger foods sit on the coffee table in the middle of the makeup, and the rest of the women are sipping tea like this is a weekly occurrence. Which, fuck,maybe it is?At this point, nothing would surprise me when it comes to Avery.
“You’re really good at this,” I say to Avery as the women all stand and move to try on more clothes in the back room.
She shrugs, brushing off the compliment. “It’s just a little something I do for fun.”
“Fun? Avery, you’re basically running a boutique out of someone’s condo. This could be yourjobif you wanted it to be.”
“Oh no.” She groans. “You’re not going to start all that crap about never working a day in your life if you do what you love again, are you?”
I laugh because she’s funny, but the idea of her being a stylist isn’t funny at all. “I’m serious, Ave. Look at the way they light up when you help them. You have a real gift, and from what I can tell, you seem to enjoy it.”
“Sure, I like it, but it’s not a job. I don’t even charge them.” Just as she says this, the women file back into the room, now dressed to the nines in the outfits Avery picked for them. Their confidence radiates, and I can’t help but feel proud of her.
“Ladies,” I say, addressing the group, “if you don’t mind my asking, how much are you paying my very talented stylist girlfriend for her services?”
“She never lets us pay,” Ethel answers immediately, her eyes narrowing on Avery. “We’ve tried to several times. Between the group of us, we’ve talked about anywhere from five hundred to a thousand an hour.”
I glance at Avery, who just shrugs again, clearly unimpressed by my line of questioning and the answers it’s producing.
Sarabeth agrees. “We’d pay top dollar for Avery’s expertise.”
“She’s worth every penny,” Blanche says, nodding.
“I’d sell my husband’s golf clubs if it meant keeping her around,” Joanne adds with a sly grin.
Avery rolls her eyes but doesn’t hide the secret smile that creeps onto her lips. In that moment, I know in so many ways that this is so much more than lunch booty calls and spicy texts and two weeks on an island. A lot of people would think Avery is superficial, but I know better.
