“Gross, bro. Spare me the details.”
“If you insist,” he says, then hangs up.
The last time I tried to surprise Kendra, things went terribly wrong. But this is bigger than me or my insecurities. I know now that they were irrational; I let Andre get in my head.
I grab my satchel and walk to the subway, thinking about Henry’s advice.
Big and flashy is more Andre’s style. He’d bring Kendra another giant bouquet, try to buy her through her dad, ambush her with a film crew. But she’s proven time and time again that she wants something real over a spectacle.
If I’m going to show her I truly know her, toplay my own game, as Mom said, I need to try another approach. And I need to start with a game plan.
Chapter thirty-three
Kendra
And…done! I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the runway. Each sway of my hips jostles the jingle bells on my belt and I giggle a little. The annual Christmas benefit for the Elias Wallace Children’s Hospital may not be the most fashion forward, but it’s fun and for a good cause. Several of the patients in stable condition got to watch from the first row, laughing as we ripped the runway in Santa Chic.
Daniela approaches with a full set of antlers and a blinking red nose.
“Thank you so much for letting me know about this!” she gushes, pulling me into a bear hug. “It sucks being so far from home for the holidays, but the kids’ faces almost make up for it.”
“Of course, girl! They have it every year, and the costumes keep getting sillier!”
She giggles, and I give her another squeeze before walking the rest of the way to the changing room. There’s tinsel and Christmas lights everywhere.
After the stunt he pulled, I won’t be spending Christmas with my dad, even though it means missing out on time with Debbie. Our brunch was a blast, and we already have another one set for the new year.
Denise and Cory are taking the rest of the month off to bone like snow bunnies before spending the holidays with the rest of the Parks. Including Damon.
I sigh. A break was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any less painful. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss him every day and think about calling the whole thing off. But no.Fuck that!He needs to decide if he wants to be with me, or if he’s going to run scared any time someone talks out the side of their mouth at him. Or me. Orus!
That leaves Uncle Cordell and Jeremiah. Aunt Meredith is stuck working the Christmas shift again, so we’re going to make decorated cookies to bring for her and the other nurses. It’s not the holiday I thought I’d have, but I love spending time with my mom’s side of the family, especially if it comes with honey-glazed ham and a holiday movie marathon.
And thank God I’m not trapped on another cruise ship with Andre’s family! The Caribbean is beautiful, but as a born and raised New Yorker, I believe there should be snow on Christmas.
I change into my boots and pea coat, ready to brave the elements.
Not only is New York delivering on the snow, but it also gave me the early gift of canceling Andre. When his little fatphobic rant went viral, all three of his background singers (including his ex-fiancée) quit. He lost sponsorship deals, his agent, and his big Christmas show at “The Garden” was postponed indefinitely. His choirboy image is long gone.
It was eye-opening, to say the least. Before everything that happened, I never believed a man like him would actually face the consequences of his actions. There’d always be an NDA, a label, or fans on social media there to ensure they got off scot-free. But now Morty is sitting on six interview requests asking for my side of the story, and it seems like the perfect time to drop my public smile and get real for once. I might even answer questions about Hector Viega; see if his precious reputation protects him after I air all his dirty laundry.
I push through the heavy double doors to the street behind the building, ready to slip into my car and then into a warm bubble bath, when I spot a familiar face mixed in with the smokers and waitstaff.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I stop three feet away, hoping it’s enough distance to hide my reaction to him.
Damon hands me a small bouquet of pink and white camellias.
“You told The Curvy Fashionista they were your favorite,” he murmurs tentatively.
Of course he would remember some obscure fact I mentioned eons ago! How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at himwhen he’s this thoughtful? I bring the flowers to my nose and inhale, unable to help myself.
“You didn’t answer why you were here,” I repeat, softer this time. He shrugs.
“I’m here because you’re here.”
My breath hitches.
“It’s that simple, huh?”
