Page 7 of Hats off to Love

“Why did you say no?” my mother asks just as I subtly kick him in the leg.

He jerks a little and fake drops his napkin. But instead of just picking it up, his warm hand lands on my leg, and I freeze, still looking at my mother.

“And ruin his opportunity to embrace being one of the most eligible bachelors of Louisville? No way. This is the perfect time for him to find you a daughter-in-law, Birdie.”

His hand slides from my calf over my knee and up my thigh until it reaches the edge of my dress, and suddenly the room is a thousand degrees. Why did it get so hot in here, and why is he touching me?

Birdie looks to Stokes. The window is behind her, and if I look at her just right, her entire face blacks out. Oh wait, maybe that’s me just losing my vision and my mind.

“I was sent the link to that article, and I thought it was rather nice. She’s not wrong—you may meet someone you might not have met before.”

Grayson chuckles, but Stokes’s nostrils flare, and his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. I’m certain mine are pink as well, but for an entirely different reason.

I mean, what is he doing? And why? I can’t think of any other time he’s ever touched me in the dozen years I’ve known him, except for maybe flicking my ear or pulling my hair.

“Mother, I have zero interest in finding someone to marry,” he declares in that bored haughty tone he uses.

His fingers dip under the edge of my dress just before he slowly drags them away. A small gasp slips through my lips, a ringing starts in my ears, and I feel lightheaded. I cannot believe he just did that. Why? And did I like it?

Wait…

I did not just ask myself that.

No. Nope. Not going there. Ever.

Absolutely not.

I glance his way, but his eyes are on his mother, and he looks as unfazed as a lazy cat lying on the porch. Meanwhile, I’m so confused I can barely breathe, and I certainly can’t compose an actual sentence.

My eyes dart around the table to see if anyone noticed anything, particularly me as I’m sitting here freaking out, but no, they’re all fine and eating their dinner.

Ever faithful and loyal, Molly chimes in to remove the pressure from Stokes. “You’ll never guess who called Rosie at the store last week.” She grins, and I force a bite of food into my mouth so I appear as normal as possible. The bite is large and so hot it’s burning.

“Who?” my mother asks, angling more toward me in her chair.

“Avery Layne,” Molly says proudly, smiling at me and then at the others around the table.

Is it suddenly even brighter in the already bright room? I swear the light fixture over the table is working overtime, and I feel the need to squint as heat radiates off of my neck. I’m sweating and can feel my hair sticking to my skin.

“The pop singer?” my mother asks.

“Yes! Isn’t that so exciting?” Molly responds.

Avery Layne is a pop singer who has a classical twist to her songs. She’s brilliant on the piano and is also with Will Ashton from the band Blue Horizons. They are like music royalty.

My mother looks at me, stunned. “Why?”

I swallow the food, and it goes down like a rock.

“Because someone showed her my personal Instagram page where I posted those progression photos last year while I was in New York. She wanted to know if I would design something for her.”

I’m shocked she saw the pictures. Granted, I did have hashtags on the designs so anyone could find them, but to have someone like her reach out to me—it’s been surreal.

“Really? That’s incredible. Just think of the exposure,” she says.

And I have. She will be photographed, and the pictures will be everywhere.

I went to college for fashion. After I received my bachelor’s in fine arts, I took advantage of the postgraduate programs and completed a one-year internship under a famous milliner in London and then another year under a milliner in New York City. While I was in NYC, I combined my education, and under her direction, I designed my own collection of five gowns with five matching hats. To me, the end product was artwork and spectacular.