Page 58 of Man Hands
“Honey,” I protest, one hand on my hip. “Seafoam is so 2012. That’s why I picked lime andtangelo.”
“Oh, right. Tangelo.” His eyes crinkle in the corners, and I can’t wait to get him into bedagain.
32A Kiss. A Squeeze.ABurp.
Brynn
The very nextday there’s a story onBuzzPopproclaiming citrus colors—including tangelo—as the new big thing inbridalwear.
Also, Tom surprises me with tickets toHamilton. I think I pee myself a little with excitement. “How did you DO that?” I squeal, clingingtohim.
“I made a call, and my agent scared up a couple seats to the matinee. And the show is a couple years old now. Not quite as hot as the colortangelo.”
We giggle all the way there, and then we both pretend not to cry at the sadending.
It’s the perfect trip. Perfect. But then it’s over, and I find myself blinking up at the sign for LaGuardia airport and wondering how my trip—and my escape from real life—could reach such a sudden end. As I take my seat in first class on the jet, it hits me that I haven’t planned beyond thispoint.
The stewardess asks for Tom’s autograph and coos over my fake-engagement ring—the one that I’ve gotten used to seeing on my hand. “When’s the wedding?”sheasks.
“Top secret,” we both reply. But it isn’t as funny today for somereason.
It’s not even three hours later when he drops me off at home. “Your bag is heavy, I can…” He starts to get out of thetruck.
“I’ve got it! I need the exercise!” I don’t want him to come inside with me, because I’ve just spent a lot of quality time pretending that he’s mine. And it’s begun toconfuseme.
But he catches my hand in his before I can leap out of the truck. “Hey.” His voice is low and growly, and I shiver, because I now know exactly how that voice sounds against my ear while he’s inside me. “I have to kiss my fiancéegoodbye.”
Oh. “Someone might bewatching.”
Slowly, he nods. But his eyes are on mine, and I’m not sure either one of us really believes that other people exist. Not right this moment. He leans in, and his lips are softer and gentler than they’ve been before. I sigh into his kiss, and his Man Hands run down my back onelasttime.
Wow.
“That looks wobbly,” he says, and I assume he’s talking about my knees afterthatkiss.
“I’ll pull myself together.” Then I notice he’s pointing at the railing on my little porch stoop. “Oh, it’s been like that since I moved in. I’mcareful.”
“Hmm. That’s going to bug me. It’s not safe.” He chews his lip. “You know, your fiancé wouldn’t just let that go. He’d probably fix that crack in your kitchenfloortoo.”
“In the first place, it’s a rental,” I point out. “And in the second place, you and a real fiancée wouldn’t bother with this house. We’d move into your mansion on thelake.”Duh.
“No we wouldn’t.” Tom makes a face. “Notthere.”
This makes me gasp. “Don’t you like it? It’sbeautiful.”
“It’s okay.” He avoids my gaze by looking past me at my rental. “This could be a cute little Victorian if someone gave itsomecare.”
“I suppose. But I have other things onmymind.”
Likeyou.
He kisses me again or I kiss him and then we part, letting our hands slowly drift apart as violins swell and the scene fades to gray thenblack.
Sorry. I got a little melodramatic there. Actually, he kisses me, squeezes my ass and says “I’llcallya.”
“Okay,” I say and then hold in a burp. Because that’s real-liferomance.
33Fucking LaLaLand
