Penelope in Retrograde: A Novel(33)
“Look”—I turn around and face him—“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. Really. It’s kind and admirable, but you don’t have to. This is the part of the evening where I wallow in my misery. It’s the part where I realize that no matter what I do with my life, I’m always going to disappoint my parents. That’s what this part of the evening is for. It’s kind of like masturbation.”
“Best done solo?”
“Exactly.” I nod toward Orange Avenue. “Now, I’m going to head down that street, and you’re not going to follow me.”
“It’s also illegal to do in public. Masturbation, that is.” Martin closes the gap between us so that he’s standing next to me. “So due to matters of public safety, I’m going to have to go with you.”
I tilt my head back and let out a laugh so loud and unrestrained that it almost scares me. It throws me a little off-balance, and I lose my footing in the heels I stole out of Phoebe’s closet. Just as I’m about to teeter off the curb, Martin wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him. He’s warm and smells like Tom Ford’s tobacco cologne. It’s quite possibly my favorite scent in the world. I wear it all the time when I’m writing a particularly spicy scene because it always puts me in the right mood. The mood feels much more pleasant in Martin’s arms than it does on paper.
Maybe he senses that he’s holding me a beat too long. He starts to release his grip and mumbles some sort of apology, but I can’t hear any of it over the pounding in my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back, until both of his arms lock tightly around me. I nuzzle my face into his neck and breathe him in.
“For what it’s worth,” he whispers, hot breath against my ear, “I don’t think you’ve disappointed anyone tonight. I think you’re just human.”
“Don’t believe it for a second. You take off this dress and you’ll find a zipper on this flesh suit.”
“So you’re an alien?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can I ask you something?” He pulls away and places his thumb beneath my chin, tilting my head back. I nod. “Do you still have feelings for your ex?”
I shake my head no, and I mean it. Sure, Smith is still hot and, by all accounts, the same kind man I once loved, but there weren’t any sparks flying between us in that van. And when I saw my old ring, it didn’t make me miss him. If anything, it made me miss Fiona a little more, which was a problem in our marriage. I loved being a part of Smith’s family more than I loved being his wife.
“No,” I say. “Why?”
“Well.” He leans in close, his lips just centimeters away from mine. “Because I think I’d like to kiss you right now.”
“I think I’d like that too.”
He presses his lips to mine and we kiss. Softly, but without hesitation. He glides his fingers through my curls, cupping my neck in his hand, and melting every one of my sharp edges. It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed like this, by someone I barely know. Even longer since I’ve let my guard down long enough for someone to see me so vulnerable.
I’m the first to pull away, and immediately I regret it. My body aches for more of him. His lips feel like fresh air in my lungs. His embrace like shelter from the cold sea air. The sensible thing to do would be to put on the brakes. Stop ourselves from further complicating things. But being sensible is overrated.
Martin brushes a curl away from my face. “Do you kiss all of your fake boyfriends on the first date?”
“I do,” I say. “You should see what I do on the second fake date. Full-on praying mantis.”
“You are an alien.” He shivers. “Do you think we could be done with the wallowing portion of the evening?”
I suddenly realize that I’m not nearly as annoyed as I was before kissing Martin. Had I known sucking face with a gorgeous man was all it took to snap me out of a bad mood, I could’ve saved so much money on therapy.
“Sure,” I say. “But fair warning, when we go back inside that house, we’re going to have to watch The Bachelorette with Nana Rosie. There’s no escaping it.”
“Is that so?”
“Look, I can get you out of golf, but Nana’s watch parties are like jury duty. She talks through most of the episode, and my mother asks a million questions because she can’t ever seem to remember anything about the show. Phoebe always has a thousand opinions, and that means you’re going to have to have at least half as many opinions, otherwise they’ll think you’re weak. You’ll probably have a terrible time.”
“Are you trying to scare me? I have four sisters. I’m an OG Bachelorette viewer. I’m talking Trista and Ryan.”
“Those names mean virtually nothing to me.”
“Then prepare to be impressed, Banks. Prepare to be impressed.”
We make it back home in time for my family to forget that anything unpleasant happened over drinks. Marie’s left out sandwiches, but it looks like everybody’s already eaten. I’m not all that hungry anyway. Martin and I change into our pajamas—in our own separate rooms—and I send a quick update to the Smut Coven about the night’s turn of events.
Chelsey: You kissed Knot Guy? My Thanksgiving is the worst compared to yours.