The Fine Art of Pretending (40 page)

“I love this dress,” he whispers, lifting me out of the truck and letting me glide down his body before leaning down to kiss me again.

At the last minute, my hand shoots between us, and I smile. “Picture first,” I remind him, smoothing my dress over my hips and looking at my reflection on the side of his newly washed truck. “But thank you. I love it, too.”

My emerald-green, one-shoulder satin gown fits beautifully, and I feel gorgeous in it. Finding such a perfect dress a week before Homecoming was nothing short of a miracle.

The door to the country club opens as we approach, and music spills out onto the sidewalk. Stepping inside, Brandon leads me to a round table covered with a dark blue tablecloth, the flame inside the metallic globe centerpiece flickering through hammered shapes of crescent moons and stars. My eyes drift over the dance floor and the handful of couples swaying to the beat, past the DJ booth and monster speakers on either side, toward the photo display set up in the back corner.

The photographer’s vision of a “Starlight Fairytale” includes a full moon, a handful of stars, and delicately lit tree branches on a golden background. Considering I’ll be standing next to Brandon, the backdrop could be a cheesy Disney castle against a map of the solar system and I would love it.

Brandon rests his hand on my lower back and leads me toward the short line for pictures. We’re among the first to arrive, so the line only has one other couple waiting in front of us.

Justin and Lauren.

We step behind them, and Brandon tenses beside me. Slipping my hand into his, I clear my throat. “You look beautiful, Lauren,” I say, taking in her asymmetrical one-shoulder top and kimono sleeve. “That dress is…wow.”

Lauren glances down, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Thanks.” She takes her time giving my own dress a once-over and then, shock of all shocks, smiles. And not her plastic one, either. “You look great, too.”

“Ah, thank you,” I say, completely gobsmacked. She nods, then glances at Brandon and turns back around.

I squeeze his hand, giving him a pointed look. “Fine,” he mouths. Cracking his neck, he straightens his back and blows out a breath before tapping Justin on the shoulder.

Justin’s eyes glide over my dress on their way to meet Brandon’s gaze. Brandon holds out his hand. “Sorry about the football game last week. I overreacted. I never should’ve come at you like that.”

Justin slowly raises his hand to shake Brandon’s, and he gives me a long, appraising look. Smiling wistfully, he says, “Forget about it, man. It looks like everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

I smile gratefully, and the guys drop hands. The photographer calls for the next couple in line, and Justin and Lauren carefully walk across the duct-taped wires to the backdrop, where the photographer poses them in an uncomfortable position meant to look natural.

“Thank you,” I say, stepping in front of Brandon and running my hands under the back of his sports jacket. “That was very magnanimous of you.”

He kisses the tip of my nose and grins. “Anything for you.”

The photographer calls us forward and makes a face at our obvious height difference. He asks Brandon to get down on one knee and seats me on his other one, guiding me to lean into his chest and nestle our faces together. Brandon kisses my cheek as the bulb flashes, and without even seeing it, I know it will be the best picture on my wall.

Being short does have some advantages.

Walking past the umbrella light kit, Brandon smiles wickedly, laces his fingers with mine, and starts pulling me back toward the exit. The sultry beat of the slow song floating from the dance floor wars with the temptation I know awaits me in his truck. Delaying gratification, I force my feet to stop carrying me forward.

He quirks an eyebrow, questioning.

“My last dance with you ended quite abruptly,” I say, thinking back to the breakup that cut our dance short. “And with a far-from-happy ending. I want a do-over.”

Brandon closes the distance between us and lifts my hand. Pressing a kiss to my knuckles, he smiles. “I’m not much of a dancer, but considering the circumstances, you’re absolutely right.”

He leads me across the glossy wooden floor reflecting the twinkle lights above to a back corner of the dance floor tucked away in the shadows. Wrapping his arms around me, we take a step as the last note of the song fades. When the next song begins, I smile at the beautiful coincidence.

Adele’s “Make You Feel My Love.”

The same song we danced to that night. My head snaps up, and I search Brandon’s eyes to see if he remembers. He slides one arm up my back and gently tilts my chin back with his thumb.

“I think we got our do-over,” he whispers, his raspy voice sending tingles skating down my spine.

His lips meet mine, and I get the dance I should’ve had five weeks ago.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This part always makes me sappy. It also scares me a bit. See, blame it on my chaotic author/homeschooling mama brain, but undoubtedly, I’m going to “pull a Rachel” and leave out a name of someone vitally important. So for everyone listed below, and for everyone I sadly forgot (and will kick myself over in 3, 2, 1…), please know you rock my socks off.

The Fine Art of Pretending
was the first story I ever wrote. After writing what later became my debut novel, I came back and rewrote it again. I kept tweaking and adding scenes during editing, too, determined to make this book the best it could be. Out of everything I’ve ever written, this book is the closest to my heart. It is the 
story
of my heart

Which means, I’ve got a boat load of people to thank. To Nancy Bowden and Natalie Markey, my first fabulous critique partners, for giving me hope, making me believe I can do this—that I don’t totally suck as an author—thank you!

To Trisha Wolfe, who read and critiqued 
two
versions of this book, you are my goddess. Shannon Duffy and Victoria Scott, thank you for joining the critique party in round two and totally making this baby shine. Ashley Bodette, your suggestions, listening ear, and rereading of every word in the edit process made all the difference. Paula Stokes, your blurb TOTALLY made me squeal. I’m posting that sucker everywhere (tee hee). You girls rock.

Brooke Troxclair, you probably don’t remember this, but you’re my baseball-fact godmother. Back in 2010, mid all-nighter, I took to social media for help with Justin’s date. You answered the call, even though we hadn’t spoken in years, and saved my butt. For the help—and the fabulous rekindled friendship since—
thank you
.

Staci Murden, Kayleigh from K-Books, and Heather Self, I adore you girls to pieces. Kayleigh, thank you for getting this story. For loving it and these characters as much as I do. Heather, thank you for swooning over Brandon and your fabulous friendship. And Staci, thanks for pouring over these words so closely and for all the funny texts. *Mwah*

To the Cool Kids Mafia…secret handshake, chin lift, sly wink.

Cindi Madsen, Lisa Burstein, Tara Fuller, Melissa West, Megan Erickson, Stina Lindenblatt, Caisey Quinn, Rhonda Helms, and Christina Lee, you girls are my sanity. Thank you for being my sounding board, for making me laugh when I feel like crying, and never failing to be there when I need your advice. You girls are foxy, yo!

Cindy Thomas, you’re amazeballs. You worked so hard to make this launch the best it can be, and you’re a master at Google Hangout. For all the fun chats, the silly laughter, and the fabulous results, thanks girl.

Kelly Simmon, you are my girl. Thank you for all the “outside the box” brain sessions, creativity, giggly phone calls, and most importantly, for your dear friendship. Your constant encouragement never fails to fill me up. You’re my ray of sunshine

Lauren Hammond, you were one of the first people to read and fall in love with this book, and because of YOU, it found a home. You are 
marvelous
, darling. Keep on dancing!

Patricia Riley, from our very first chat, before there was even a contract, I knew you were the editor for this project. Your enthusiasm and excitement has remained off the charts, your edit letter may be the best thing I’ve ever read, and your love for Brandon makes me do a bazillion happy dances. Saying ‘thank you’ isn’t nearly enough, so I’ll save the rest for a tackle hug at BEA. I ADORE YOU!

A huge shout out to all the copy editors, publicists, and staff at Spencer Hill, particularly those who had their hands on this book. Kate Kaynak, thank you for providing such a fabulous home. Danielle Ellison, you are a title QUEEN. And Dahlia Adler, you are a word genius. You girls complete me (grin).

To the Flirt Squad…seriously, I have the best street team EVER. You girls aren’t just readers and fans. You’re my friends. Your tireless support and enthusiasm and 
love
are unmatched—and a total blessing. I know I’ve been teasing you with snippets from this book for over a year now. I hope the full thing lived up to your expectations! Love ya hard, girls.

Katrina Tinnon, Jessica Mangicaro, Jennifer Staci, Jenna DeTrapani, Staci Murden, Saleana Rae Carneiro, Meredith Johnson, and Valerie Fink, you ladies go WAY above and beyond. I truly can’t thank you enough, and until words are invented to do it properly, my plan is to bombard you with virtual slobber fests. And dozens of happy twirls.

Christine (I Heart Big Books), Crystal Leach, Ali and Ciara Byars, Maliha Khan, Megan Rigdon, Maura Trice, Kathy Arguelles, Heather Love, Amy Logg, Shelley Bunnell, Melissa Casey Lemons, Zoe Miller, Amy Fournier, Wendy Hung, Chelsea Cochran, Vi Nguyen, Cindy Ray Hale, Veronica Bartles, Mindy Ruiz, Shari Drehs Bartholomew, Jessica Baker, Linda Townsend, Bette Hansen, Gaby Navarro, Denice Cordero, and Jas Dela Cruz, you do so much to support me. Countless times, one of you would post a note or message that filled me up. Calmed the storm. Motivated me to dive back in. Each of you is a blessing.

To every blogger, reviewer, and reader of my previous books, a huge, heartfelt thank you. Your emails, messages, blog posts, reviews, and visits to my signings have each touched my heart. Thank you for the support, encouragement, and inspiration to keep on writing.

Finally, to my incredible family. My husband Gregg is my rock. He believes in me so completely, I have no other choice but to do the same. (SHMILY!) My girls, Jordan and Cali, cheer me along, give me ideas, and make FABULOUS fan art. My mom and dad, Rosie and Ronnie, buy books for their friends and clients, listen to my never-ending tales of the industry (when I’m sure they’d rather listen to
anything
else), and offer plenty of free babysitting! My brother, Ryan, gives advice on lingo and all things music. My godmother, Rhonda, lifts me up constantly. And my mother-in-law, Peggy, is my number one fan. Without this solid support system, I’d be toast. And, most likely, still dreaming of someday. I love you more than words can say.