Page 35 of Man Hands
“I’m sorry,” I say again. I am probably going to say it a thousand more times before thisisover.
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “It’smine.”
“What? No. That stupid party.” Worstideaever.
She puts a soft hand on my wrist, and I look down, liking the view. “I jumped you. It was totally out of character for me. And look whathappened.”
“Why did you, anyway?” The question hasnaggedme.
“Well…” Her cheeks turn pink. “I really wanted to. But first, Ash dared me.” She smiles. “You know…actually…” Her eyes brighten, and she smiles. “Let’s blame everythingonAsh!”
“And Braht,” I add, smiling back. “The party was his idea. I just went alongwithit.”
We’re grinning at each other like a couple of happy-face stickers. And then I remember my publicist’sstupididea.
Fuckity.
I clear my throat. “Publicist Becky is waiting for your answer. She needs to know how you want to play this. I’m happy to tell her where she can shove her crazy idea. But I thought I’d just run it by youfirst.”
Brynn makes a face. “I just got out of a marriage. Pretending to get into another one is aterribleidea.”
“Unless you want to make your ex jealous.” The idea just pops out. It’s my fragile male egotalking.
“Like my ex would evennotice.”
“Of course he will. If I were married to you, and then I lost you, the regret would be prettyintense.”
Her face softens. “You are the nicest guy, Tom. If I ever wanted to be fake-married to somebody, you’d be at the top ofthelist.”
It’s the best compliment I’ve ever been given. Even better than the fan letter I got from a woman claiming that watching me operate a nail gun had given her an orgasm. I don’t even want to know what Dr. Freud would say aboutthatone.
“Any guess as to how long our fake engagement would last? Like, how long before it blows over?Aweek?”
I don’t answer. I’mthinking.
“Two?”
Thinkingishard.
“More than a month?” Brynnasksme.
The answer arrives, thankfully. “The next season of my show is supposed to start filming in September. I’ll be on location somewhere far away from here, and the tabloids will forget about us. When the season wraps up in March, my agent can release a line or two to the press that says you and I decided not to getmarried.”
She licks her lips. “Does it help you if I playalong?”
“A little,” I admit. I don’t want to tell her about Chandra, and getting dumped last spring. It’s not a secret. It’s just embarrassing. “You’d make me look like a family man and not a porn star. But I don’t care, Brynn. You don’t have to do this for me. Even if the network fires me under their morality clause, it’s no big deal. I don’t really care if season ten never gets made. I’ve had agoodrun.”
Her eyes widen. “They can do that? They can fire you for having sex on theinternet?”
“Sure. But even if they did, I’d get offers.”Not good ones, though. Only this morning my agent fielded an inquiry from a cable station. They want me to do home renovations inthebuff.
Seriously. Which TV genius decided that operating a table saw with your dick hanging out is agoodidea?
“You don’t need to worry about me. I promise,” Iassureher.
She puts her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand. It’s a pose of feminine reflection. “This idea sounds terrible. But I’m actually considering it. I don’t want to be unhireable. College deans aren’t as forgivingasTV.”
I put a hand on her back. “I don’t want you to be unhireable, either.” The fact that she was even considering this crazy scheme lifts me in a way that surprises me. Last year I’d asked Chandra to marry me, and she’d said no. That stung a lot. For Brynn to claim me publicly seems incredible. Even if it’snotreal.
