Page 58 of Hang the Moon
“You never really answered my question,” he said during a commercial.
“What question was that?”
“If you’re not a fan of the grand gesture, whatdoyou find romantic?”
She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. “I feel likeyou want me to give you a list of activities or gestures and I don’t know how to do that because I feel like it’s sort of antithetical, in a way.”
A list would certainly be convenient, but he held his tongue.
Annie drew her knees up to her chest. “In my mind, romance is just showing someone that you know them, you’re thinking of them, you care about them, and you want them to know it. There’s nothing wrong with chocolates and flowers and even grand gestures if that’s what someone genuinely likes, if that’s what makes them feel appreciated. Becausethat’sromance. It depends on what your love language is.”
He was familiar with the concept. “Words of affirmation, gifts, quality time, that sort of thing?”
Annie nodded. “Mm-hmm. It can be like speaking two different languages if you express love one way and someone else prefers to receive it differently.”
“Lost in translation,” he surmised. “Nice analogy.”
“I was a linguistics major, what can I say?” She laughed. “I’ve already made my thoughts on flashy gestures clear. If someone proposed to me in public, I’m pretty sure I’d die of mortification.” She shivered and cringed. “To me, the quiet gestures matter more. Someone remembering my coffee order or my favorite movie. RandomI’m thinking of youtexts. Believe it or not, this is pretty perfect.” Her eyes widened. “Not that I’m saying this is a date. Because it’s not. But if it were.”
He filed away her exaggerated vehemence that this wasn’t a date but bit his tongue against the urge to make adoth protest too muchjoke, positive it wouldn’t fly. He spared a glance around the dingy hotel room, which smelled like body odorand cigarettes beneath several generous spritzes of Febreze. His brows rose. “This?”
Annie wrinkled her nose. “Okay, not exactly this. But low-key nights in? If we had a bottle of wine and Greek takeout, I’d be in heaven.” Her smile went sheepish. “I know it probably seems totally at odds with my job, but I’m actually a homebody. Maybe it’s because of my job, actually. I like downtime and I’d take sweatpants and slippers over heels and going out to clubs any day.”
He grinned. “Same. The general idea, I mean. Not the heels. Can’t speak to that experience.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I’m sure you could pull off a pair of pumps.”
“With my arches?” he joked.
Her laugh made his stomach clench.
“What about you? When it comes to romance, you’re the expert.”
“Expert?” He scoffed. “I don’t feel like much of an expert.”
Between his foot-in-mouth blunders and the D-and-I report that had both him and his team puzzled over how to proceed if they wanted OTP to go the distance, he’d never felt so out of his depth.
“I find that hard to believe,” Annie said. “You created a dating app. A successful one.” That was up for debate. “Clearly, you must have opinions. Come on, hit me with it. What does Brendon Lowell find romantic? Public proposals? Kisses in the rain? Mad dashes to the airport, racing the clock?” Her smile went sly. “Serenading someone via karaoke?”
“That predictable, am I?” He chuckled awkwardly.
“I’m right?” Annie smacked her hands on the bedspread and twisted, facing him. “Is that what you were doing? Re-creating scenes from rom-coms to prove your point?”
That was how it had started, with wanting to prove a point. Then it had turned into something more, something that had nothing to do with winning a bet, unless the prize was more personal than mere bragging rights.
“And here I thought I was being stealthy.” He paused, heart creeping into his throat. “Does that bother you?”
“Well, you didn’t stick my face on a Jumbotron, so kudos for that. Until I put two and two together, which was, like, an hour ago, I was none the wiser. Then again, I’m not exactly a rom-com aficionado.” She snickered, then sobered, her expression softening, her smile sweet. “I just felt like Annie, spending time with a guy who was going to great lengths to show me a good time in his favorite city.”
His heart had yet to return to his chest, instead getting right at home in the hollow of his throat, his every word that much more vulnerable for it. “Can I ask you a question? Another one, I mean.”
She nodded, albeit hesitantly. “You can ask.”
He dug deep for courage, terrified of what her answer would be, but more afraid of not asking. Of looking back on this moment and regretting letting this chance pass him by. Even if it pained him, he needed to know. “If you weren’t moving to London, would this be different? Would you give me a chance?”
With each increasingly fraught blink she made, her eyes growing glassier, his nerves ratcheted until his whole body had evolved into his final form, one raw, exposed nerve.
After a few seconds she pressed her lips into a sad little smile that made his heart twist.
