Chapter 18

Hannah

"My, dear, your skin looks fabulous today," Ms. Patty says, applying a light, luminous foundation to my face. "What have you been doing?"

Oh, you know, nothing special. Just being intimate with the man I've been secretly in love with for years, something I never expected or even dared to hope for because we're best friends. No biggie.

I look at her in the mirror and smile. "I switched moisturizers."

"You'll have to give me the name."

It's called the Palladino Edge…and I'm a fan. A big fan.

I clear my throat. "Sure thing."

Ms. Patty finishes putting on a very thin line of brown eyeliner before adding a touch of highlighter on my cheekbones and the bridge of the nose.

I inspect myself in the mirror. "That looks great. Thanks, Ms. Patty."

"Need help with the headwrap?" she asks.

"Actually, yeah. If you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"How are things here, ladies?" Doyle asks, waltzing in dressed as a medieval knight in a full suit of plate armor.

"Fine," I reply once Ms. Patty has helped me put on the headwrap. I then smile brightly at him, with a display of confidence that boldly declares, I am not a flincher. "I'm so looking forward to this."

"As am I looking forward to seeing you not flinch out there." Grrr. Even the way he structures sentences annoys me. "Well, I'd say break a leg, but I think that would be a flinchable moment, and we don't want that now, do we?"

And with that, he leaves to stick his nose somewhere else it doesn't belong.

"That man is insufferable," Ms. Patty whispers once he's out of earshot.

"Tell me about it."

Once I put on the finishing touch, the pearl earring, I join Culver by the side of the stage. "My, don't you look…" For once I can't say handsome because there's no way even Culver could make a tragic clown look anything other than creepy.

"Why didn't you finish that sentence?" he asks, sliding his hands around my waist.

"Because, uh, I'm not about superficial things like appearance. It's who you are as a person that counts."

"Do I look that bad?"

"No." I shake my head. "Just creepy. Which is the point, so don't get bummed."

He smiles, but it only makes him look even creepier. "You look terrified," he observes.

"Sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

"You'll be fine." He goes to kiss me but, with all the makeup we're both wearing, decides against it. "You're up," he says. "Good luck. Not that you need it. You'll kill it out there."

"Thank you."

I do, in fact, kill it.

My performance goes off without a hitch…or should that be a flinch?

Not a flinch, not a movement, and only the bare minimum of blinks. I look forward to lording my achievement over Doyle for years to come.

Culver is on after me, joined by two even more sinister looking clowns.

As soon as he comes off stage, he rushes over to me in the backstage area. "You did great," he says, beaming.

"So did you."

"Yeah, but that was never in doubt. You, on the other hand…"

I knock into him playfully with my shoulder. "Don't you start on me."

He takes advantage of our closeness to draw me in closer. He whispers into my ear, "Oh, but now that I have started on you, how am I ever meant to stop?"

It's a good thing Culver is holding onto me because my knees go weak. Literally. I never knew that was a thing, but yep, turns out that it is.

Culver notices that people are looking our way, so he lets go of me and creates a bit of distance between us. "Want to find Doyle and rub it in his face?"

I did. But not anymore.

"No." I step closer to him, place my hands on his solid chest, and look up into his brown eyes, not caring in the slightest who's watching or what anyone is thinking. "I'd like to place an order for another serving of the Palladino Edge."

"Oh. I see." He grins. "I take it you were satisfied with your first purchase?"

I smooth my palms over his wide shoulders. "I gave it five stars on Yelp."

His grin becomes a smile. "In that case, I should let you know there is a subscription option available for the low monthly price of?—"

"Sold."

He chuckles, deep and rusty, running his fingers down the side of my face, and pins me with the kind of a look reserved for a man who loves a woman.

"Let's go home."