Page 114 of Love Unforgettable
“Right,” Kat says. “Because with age comes talent. There’s no other way to achieve it.”
“I think I read that in a fortune cookie,” Remi says.
“You know what I mean,” I say.
“No, actually I don’t.” Remi pulls the champagne out of the small ice chest they brought with them and hands it to me to open. I don’t think either of them have ever opened a wine bottle on their own when I’m around. She pours us all glasses, and I tell them about Sawyer Grant and what he said.
“Can I spill a drink on him tonight?” Kat asks.
“I don’t even know how I’m going to get you in,” I say. “I only have a plus one.”
“We already got seats, Kat pulled the cancer card.” Remi and Kat share a look when Remi says that, but I don’t have the energy to decipher what it means.
We toast with our champagne and Remi gets busy arranging little charcuterie platters for us. We hear a knock on the door and Kat goes to let hair and makeup in. They start with me and within twenty minutes I’ve been transformed into the girl who would kick Sawyer Grant’s ass for saying something so sexist and rude. Or, if she missed that chance, the girl who would let her bestie spill a drink on him. Subtle smoky eye makeup, which I didn’t even know was possible, that makes my blue eyes pop, a hint of blush, and a soft pink lip gloss. Whatever they’ve done makes my skin look like porcelain and the effect is awesome!
“So, what do you think we should do with your hair?” the girl asks me.
“Um, make it pretty like my makeup?”
“Color touch-up?”
“Sure, why not!”
“Well, the color is fading, so I’d like to wake it up a little bit but at the same time lift some of it and bring out some more of your natural color so that it can grow out with less upkeep. Maybe a couple layers to give it some movement.”
“Fine by me,” I smile.
“After that, a curly up-do, with soft tendrils around the face,” Remi instructs.
I clap my hands, excited about my makeup, my hair, tonight. “Wait,” I say. “Last time we did my hair and makeup more edgy with this dress. Should I do that again?”
“We didn’t bring the dress,” Kat says.
I look at them both, waiting for the punchline. “I . . . you . . . shit you guys.”
“Hang on a sec,” Remi says. She steps out of the room and then returns with an assortment of boxes and hands them to me. I look from Remi to Kat and back to Remi again. Neither says a word, Remi points to the little card attached to the top box. I open it.
“I’m going crazy. I’m standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy.”
For you. —Cole
The first tear slides down my face. And then the second. This guy. There’s just no way this guy is for real. He watched my movie.The Philadelphia Story. And he quoted the main character. In a card. To me. I don’t deserve him.
You don’t deserve him.
It won’t last.
“This is all from him?” I ask Remi, gesturing to the boxes.
“And this,” Remi says pointing to the makeup and hair people.
“Compliments of this,” Kat says waving a credit card in the air.
“Is that a Black Card?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s your boyfriend’s,” she says.
“Wow, can I see it? I’ve never seen one in real life.”
