November 9

Blame it on the fact that I’m a sucker for romance novels, but I’ve been convinced that the grander the gesture, the greater the love. Some of my favorite scenes from the books I read are those pivotal points in the arc of the story when the guy declares his love for the girl in a huge way. But the way this one little kiss from Ben just left me feeling, I think I’ve been overlooking the best parts of romance novels. Maybe the grand gestures don’t matter nearly as much as all the inconsequential things between the two main characters.

It makes me want to go back and reread everything I’ve ever read, now that I’m experiencing these things with someone in real life.

“I’m so sorry,” someone is saying as Ben pulls me into the kitchen. “I had no idea you were home and I was looking for scissors but you are home and she’s definitely not a pair of scissors.”

She’s cute. Shorter than me, California-blond hair and a face that can’t hide a single emotion. Because right now, just looking at her, I can tell she’s about to crack.

“Jordyn, this is Fallon,” Ben says, gesturing toward me.

I wave and Jordyn immediately crosses the room and hugs me. “Nice to meet you, Fallon. Don’t be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal for Ben to have girls in his room.”

I cut my eyes to Ben and he lifts his hands in defense like he has no idea why she just said that. I lift my palms up in a “help me” gesture, because she’s clinging tight and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Ben clears his throat and Jordyn finally releases me.

“Oh God, that totally came out wrong,” she says, shaking out her hands. “It’s not normal for him to have girls in his room. Not at all what I meant,” she says. “I just mean it’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’re all adults. I wasn’t implying that you’re one of many. In fact, he rarely ever brings girls here so that’s why I didn’t think twice before walking into his room, because it’s so rare I never thought he’d actually be in there. With you. With a girl.” She’s pacing now, and every time I catch a glimpse of her face, she looks on the verge of tears. I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a hug than she is right now.

I walk over to her and she stops pacing. I place both of my hands on her shoulders. I take a deep, exaggerated breath, straightening my posture. She copies the movement, dragging air into her lungs. I calmly exhale, and she follows suit. I smile. “It’s okay, Jordyn. Ben and I are absolutely fine. But you look like you could use a drink. Or ten.”

She nods feverishly and then slaps her hand over her mouth as soon as the tears come.

Oh, Jesus. What now? I look to Ben for help, but he’s looking at me like this is completely normal behavior for her. He does make his way toward her though, turning her around to face him.

“Hey,” Ben says soothingly, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, pointing toward another room. “The placeholders came and half of them are spelled wrong and the tables and chairs were supposed to be here this morning, but they moved delivery to tomorrow and tomorrow doesn’t work because tomorrow is when I’m supposed to have my last fitting and now I have to be here for the delivery and my mom’s flight was canceled so she can’t help me finish the flower arrangements tonight and . . .”

Ben cuts her off. “Calm down,” he says. He motions toward the refrigerator, so I walk to the kitchen and find a half-full bottle of wine. I pour Jordyn a glass while Ben calms her down. When I hand it to her, she’s sitting on a bar stool, wiping at her tears.

“Thank you,” she says as she takes the wine. “I’m normally not this crazy or high-strung but it’s the worst week of my life. And I know it’ll be worth it in the end but . . .” She eyes me hard. “Never get married. Ever. Unless you go to Vegas.”

I make it look like I’m soaking in her advice, but her stress level is enough to make anyone not look forward to a wedding.

“Wait,” she says, pointing at me. “Your name is Fallon? As in Fallon O’Neil?”

Oh, no. It’s not often I get recognized from the show, but when it does happen, it’s usually by girls who are about Jordyn’s age. Girls who probably watched the show religiously.

“You aren’t the actress who used to star on that detective show, are you?”

Ben’s arm goes around my shoulder like he’s proud of that fact. “She sure is.”

“No way!” she says. “I used to watch that show all the time! Well, until they replaced you with that one chick who couldn’t act worth a flip.”

That comment makes me feel good. I couldn’t bring myself to watch the show after I was replaced, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a little relieved that it went off the air two seasons later due to a drop in ratings.

“Why did you quit the show?” she says. And then, “Oh. Wait, I remember. You were injured, right? Is that where you got the scars from?”

I can feel Ben’s arm immediately tense. “Jordyn,” he says.

I appreciate that he’s attempting to intercept the conversation for my sake, but it’s hard to be offended by Jordyn when it’s obvious she’s just curious and not at all judging.

“It’s fine,” I say, as soon as she looks like she’s about to apologize. “It was an unfortunate accident, and it sucked that I had to quit the show. But I’m grateful I survived. It could have been a lot worse.”

I feel Ben press a kiss against the side of my head, and I assume it’s because he appreciates that the encouraging words he said to me upstairs might have actually sunk in.

The front door slams and everyone’s attention shifts from the conversation about my career to the sound of a man’s voice.

“Where’s my little bitch?” he calls out.

Oh, lord. I hope this isn’t the groom.

“Ian’s home,” Ben says. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the living room. “Come meet my big brother.”

I follow Ben into the living room to see a man kneeling down by the front door, petting a little white dog. “There’s my little bitch,” he says sweetly to the dog. As sweet as that sentence can sound, anyway.

“Look what the cat flew in,” Ben says, getting the guy’s attention.