Also, she was very good at hair and makeup.
And I was going on a date with frigging Jack Stapleton.
“Fine,” I said. “But just to reiterate—”
“I know. I know,” Taylor said. “I’m not forgiven.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, walking up Jack’s driveway, as I battled intrusive thoughts of Jack’s many, many past girlfriends, it seemed pretty clear I’d made the right choice.
If you’re ever going to let Taylor do something for you, it should be hair and makeup. And she’d talked me into wearing the slinkiest red dress I had.
I’d been tempted to put on a pantsuit.
Did I feel achingly vulnerable with my shoulders bare and the silk hem whispering around my naked thighs? Of course.
Emotionally—and physically—I felt naked as hell. And not in a good way.
“They’re the ‘befores,’” I repeated, like a mantra, as a veritable catwalk of ex-girlfriends strutted through my head. “You’re the ‘after.’”
Everything about me was quivering.
I was fine with caring as long as it was mutual. But was it? It had seemed more than mutual yesterday, when he was pressing me up against the wall in his parents’ hallway.
But yesterday was a million years ago.
I wondered if the triple punch of it all—losing my mom, then losing Robby, then losing Taylor—had left a bigger scar than I’d realized.
Was I lovable? I mean, are any of us really lovable if you overthink it?
It was tempting to chicken out.
But then I thought of Jack going bwok, bwok, bwok, and then I wondered if having faith in yourself was just deciding you could do it—whatever it was—and then making yourself follow through.
So I decided something right then: Every chance you take is a choice. A choice to decide who you are.
And so that’s what that long walk up Jack’s driveway was about for me. Not about what Robby and Taylor had done. Or what Jack might or might not say or do or feel. It was about me choosing who to be in the face of all … and refusing to give up on hope. Or myself.
Was it totally ridiculous for me to try to date a movie star?
Absolutely.
Was I going to do it anyway?
You bet.
Thirty
BECAUSE JACK’S THREAT level had been downshifted to white, there was no security team at his place—thank God. The last thing I needed in those strappy heels was to make my way through some kind of EP agent obstacle course of judgment and mockery.
The security cameras on the property were still running, of course.
I rang Jack’s doorbell, trying not to imagine Glenn surveilling me and saying, “Is that Brooks? In a dress? What the hell’s she got on her feet?”
I just had to hope nobody was monitoring them.
But Jack didn’t come to the door right away.
I watched an ant making its way across the concrete.
Then I rang again.
Maybe he was in the shower? I crossed my fingers that he hadn’t decided to cook, God forbid.
Then, a few minutes after my second ring, Jack opened the door—but only partway.
He’d gotten a haircut—and now it was spiking up in an intimidatingly movie-starish way, like he’d just finished a shoot for GQ. He was also freshly shaved. He had a Norwegian sweater on. And another change: He was wearing his contacts instead of his glasses. It was the first time I’d seen him without his glasses in real life.
All together? It made him look a little like a different person.
Less like Jack Stapleton the piggyback-ride giver—and more like Jack Stapleton the movie star.
Holy shit. Jack Stapleton was a movie star.
I felt a cramp of anxiety. The impossibility of it all hit me again.
Was this happening? I guess it was.
But that’s when Jack said, “Yes?” in a voice that sounded … blank.
Just a very slightly clipped tone—anonymous and disinterested, like he didn’t know me, and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Like I was maybe a cable repair guy. Or a political canvasser. Or a census-taker.
It was just that one syllable. But it was enough to register.
“Hey,” I said, holding up a wine bottle with a slight air of caution. “I brought wine.”
I took a step closer, expecting him to swing the door open.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he frowned. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you here?”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s not even joke.”
But that’s when Jack nodded back toward the interior of the house and said, “I’ve actually got some guests here right now, so…”