I’m the one who goes quiet this time as a fresh round of tears forms. And just when I thought my tear ducts had dried up.
“Mom, you don’t get it. He’s so perfect. He’s always saying and doing just the right thing while I make mistake after mistake. How can I ever live up to that?”
“Andhe’sthe one with rose-colored glasses? He’s aman, Katie, he’s not perfect. You just think he is because you’re in love with him.”
Silence stretches the line.
“You’re not denying it. That’s a step forward, at least.”
I take a deep breath. “I do love him.”
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud, and it’s like a fog lifts.I’m in love with Ben.Of course I am. Why did it take me so long?
“Then you need to tell him,” she says gently. “He deserves to know. When will you see him next?”
“I don’t know, never. I’m never leaving my apartment again.”
“Katie...”
I sigh. “We’re all supposed to be going to this big fancy reception tomorrow night. I was going to bail on it.”
“Ooh, it’ll be like a movie! You can meet him at the ball!” Great, I’ve unleashed Hopeless Romantic Bev.
“It’s not a ball.” I think that over. “Okay, it’s kind of a ball.”
“So get yourself all dolled up, get your hair blown out, wear a dress that’ll knock his socks off, then stroll in there looking like a million bucks. He’ll forget the whole thing ever happened.”
“But what will Isay?” I wail.
“Just tell him you were on your period. He won’t ask any follow-up questions.”
“Mom!”
She hums. “How about... you complete me. Or, we go together like peas and carrots. No, wait, I’ve got it. I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her!”
“Mom! I cannot use movie lines.”
She heaves a sigh. “Fine, just tell him you’re sorry, you’re an idiot, you’ll make it up to him forever if he’ll let you.”
She pauses.
“And then tell him I said hi.”
Chapter 29
I do as she says.
I apply a set of those amoeba-shaped de-puffing eye patches before bed, then another set in the morning. I make an appointment for a blowout, and for once, I instruct the stylist to go as big as she wants. Let’s give the Texas boy some Texas hair.
In a stroke of divine intervention, I actually have the perfect gown already hanging in my closet, having purchased it a couple of years ago with the hope I’d find a worthy occasion. It’s navy and floor-length, with a plunging V-neck that’s mirrored in the back. It hugs my body like a second skin, as flattering and timeless as anything I’ve ever owned. It’s too revealing for a typical work event, but for a night of hobnobbing with the Hollywood glitterati? It’s just right.
I don’t have much nice jewelry to speak of, but I add my grandmother’s cross necklace for luck and a pair of small diamond earrings that were a graduation gift from my mom, and I’m ready. Stephen and I had planned to go together, and when he arrives to pick me up, he gasps.
“You let your hair out to play,” he exclaims tearfully, clasping his hands to his heart like a proud dad.
I laugh, relaxing a little. No matter what happens with Ben, I’ve already won the night. Stephen’s approval means more than a thousand straight men’s.
As we pull up to the Willard, I feel a surge of nerves and adrenaline. Between my mom’s, Stephen’s, and my own pep talks, I’m ready to race up these hotel steps like Rocky.
