Page 74 of The Romantic Agenda
He could do anything: sleep, go for a seven-hour walk, swim in the lake, take the boat out for a joy ride to give Malcolm a heart attack, but no. He’s choosing her.
Not for show. For them. Hewantsher company.
Joy makes up her mind and asks, “What do you want to do?”
“Me?”
“There’s no one else here except for my shadow person in the corner but I don’t think they count in daylight,” she jokes. “What do you want to do, Fox? It’s your day. I hereby decree it. Whatever you want.”
He’s surprised—staring at her like she just tried to sell him the moon. “I don’t know.”
I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him this interested in someone this fast, Summer had said... he’s faking it.
They had agreed to pretend to like each other, but there’s nothing fake about what has resulted from it. Wanting to know him, to talk to him, to make him laugh and trick him into smiling—all of that is real. Joy genuinely likes Fox.
“Pick something,” she says, crawling out of her cocoon andacross the bed. She stops directly in front of him, sitting on her knees, hands on his shoulders. “You’ve been nothing but good to me this entire time. Let me do something for you.”
“You already did.”
“Birthday cake doesn’t count. Everyone gets one.”
“It was a really good cake,” he says solemnly.
She laughs, moving closer to him. Her arms are draped around him now, their faces inches apart. “Fine, let me do something else. There’s no quota on good deeds. Let me take care of you by spoiling you with all my luxurious riches I managed to fit into two suitcases,” she says, nodding toward them. “The third one is for shoes.”
“How?”
“We’re going to have a spa day.”
No Malcolm. No Summer.
Just her and Fox.
Twenty
Joy stands in front of him, pulling at her bottom lip while she considers where to start. “Facial,” she decides. “Do you want clips or a headband?” She holds up both for him.
“Clips, I guess,” Fox says. “This is interesting.”
Joy pins his hair back, careful not to use too much tension. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking you to.” When he does, she adds, “Tilt your head back. Hold still.”
“What are you going to— OW!”
Joy plucks a second eyebrow hair, and his eyes snap open. “Shh, shh,” she whispers, climbing on top of him to keep him still. “Just let me help them a little. A good clean brow can do wonders for your face.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond and continues working, while watching for any indication that he doesn’t want her there on his lap.
“Why are you so obsessed with my eyebrows?” He flinches instead of yells, and glares at her tohurry up.
She moves as quickly as she can without getting too tweezer-happy. She doesn’t want to alter them too much, they havecharacterafter all, but she does disconnect them from his hairline and define his arch.
“I can’t believe you do this,” he says.
“You shouldn’t because I don’t. I get my brows microbladed.”
“What’s that?”
