Page 10 of Hang the Moon
“You’re fucking with me.” She laughed.
“Am not!” His grin stretched from ear to ear. “I wanted to be Hugh Grant. I was ten years old, granted.” He tried to wink and failed miserably, both his eyes shutting in a stuttered blink that made her grin. “Pun unintended.”
“Ten? That doesn’t count.”
His jaw dropped, his eyes sparkling beneath the dim lights of the restaurant. “It counts. Don’t belittle my dreams, Annie.”
She pinched her lips together. “My apologies. Please, tell me more about how you wanted to be”—she sputtered—“Hugh Grant.”
“He was in all my favorite movies.Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Two Weeks Notice. He was charming in an accessible, awkward way I identified with on a soul-deep level.” He dimpled at her. “And he always got the girl.”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling. “So you wanted to be an actor?”
“No.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Just Hugh Grant. Minus the arrest record, obviously.”
“Obviously.” She rested her chin on her palm, mirroring him. “You changed your mind?”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Alas, like Highlander, there can only be one Hugh Grant. So, I spent several years adrift. Unsure of my direction in life.”
“And then you discovered your true calling, creating the greatest dating app known.”
His cheeks colored. “That’s kind. But no. Then I took a screenwriting class in college because I figured if I couldn’t be Hugh Grant, I could be Nora Ephron.”
“Makesperfectsense.”
“I had a bit of a problem, though,” he confessed. “I hated writing conflict between couples. Which, would you believe, is actually necessary.”
“Stories need conflict?” She tutted. “Who’d have thunk it?”
He ducked his chin, chuckling quietly. “Unfortunately, not freshman me. My professor commended me on writing a spectacular script”—he winced—“if I was aiming for late-night soft-core porn.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please tell me this script still exists.”
And that she could get her eyeballs on it ASAP.
“Uh-uh.” He crossed his arms. “No way.”
“You can’t tease me with soft-core porn and then not deliver. That’s rude.”
“Itwasn’tporn, that’s the thing. There was—there was character development.” He made what he probably thought was an innocent gesture with his hand, fingers pointed up and spreading. “Growth.”
She struggled to keep a straight face. “I’m sure there was lots andlotsof growth.”
“Quit.” He groaned softly. “Needless to say, I decided to leave the writing hobby to my sister.”
“And the rest is history.”
He shrugged. “So if working in HR wasn’t your childhood dream job”—she snorted—“what did you want to be when you grew up?”
She smirked. “Who says I wanted to grow up?”
He beamed at her.
“Don’t laugh,” she warned.
“You laughed at me.”
Fair point. “Okay. Do you rememberTotal Request Live? Or was that before your time?”
