But somewhere between the dancing, Ronan’s protectiveness, and the champagne buzz, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe he could be my rebound. My one wild rebellion in a lifetime of playing it safe as the girl next door. My passionate indiscretion. My first and probably only one-night stand.
Do I have the guts to proposition him? Could I live with his rejection?
I’m still mulling over these nerve-racking, butterfly-inducing questions when I take a quick makeup check in the bathroom. A girl has to have fresh lipstick if she’s going to hit on a movie star.
I’m staring into the mirror, giving myself a pep talk, when my best friend, Sadie, and my mom find me.
“There you are. You better explain yourself, young lady,” my mom says, her toned arms crossed in front of her.
I gulp.
“You bring amovie starto your sister’s wedding, and you don’t tell your best friend?” Sadie says, equally outraged. Sadie owns the artsy general store, Miracle on Main Street, where I rent space for my art lessons. She’s the only person I talk to about my ex. The rest of my family and friends still want me to get back together with Derek, despite his dickishness. But Sadie is always one-hundred-percent Team Poppy, for which I’m grateful.
“I can’t believe you didn’t say a word. Where did you even meet him?” Sadie asks.
“And why in heaven’s name is he at your sister’s wedding?” my mom adds.
I hold up my hand. “I’ll answer your questions one at a time. First, he’s staying at the hotel while he looks for a house in town. You know they’re filmingThe Wanderershere.”
They both nod. This is the biggest news our town has ever seen.
“After the bachelorette party last night, I got stuck in an elevator with him,” I rush out.
“You got stuck in an elevator with Mr. Big, and you didn’t tell your own mother?” My mom is not happy.
“Mr. Big?” My mother has aSex and the Citynickname for Ronan. Of course she does.
She shrugs. “What? You don’t think the girls at the senior center talk? You should have seen all of us when his Sexiest Man Alive cover was released. Whew.” She fans herself.
My mom is a fitness instructor for seniors. Before retiring, she was a middle school teacher. But she got bored with all her free time, so she started teaching Zumba. She channels her inner Jane Fonda with a unitard and a headband. I tease her, but my mom has firmer abs than I do, so I’m secretly jealous. And the irony is that my dad is the world’s biggest couch potato.
I close my eyes in pain. I love my mom. I really do. But she’s extra-extra.
Sadie, the traitor that she is, encourages all my mom’s extra-ness.
“I’m going to forgive you for not telling me because I understand it’s been a busy day,” Sadie says. “But only if you give us all the deets now. What happened? Did you invite him to the wedding as your date?”
“No!” I whisper-squeal. “That’s what’s so surprising. Okay, maybe we had a moment the night we met. But I thought it was justmymoment. Not a moment he cared about, if you know what I mean, because I’m, well, normal. And he’s, well, look at him. Anyway, we went our separate ways, and I thought I’d never see him again. But he showed up at the wedding, and he met Derek—And I guess Ronan felt sorry for me because one thing led to another, and now he’s my pretend date.”
“That’s so romantic!” my mom exclaims with clasped hands. She loves books and plays, especially romances. InRomeo and Juliet, she doesn’t see teenagers making questionable decisions and killing themselves. Nope. She sees starry-eyed romance. And inGone with the Wind, she swoons at the so-called love story buried deep beneath that pesky, problematic behavior.
I hate to admit it, but I was once a romantic as well. BDA. Before the Derek Apocalypse.
I put my hands on my hips and frown at my mother. “Are you trying to set me up with Ronan Masters now? I thought you were rooting for Derek and me to get back together.”
“Oh, pish.” She shrugs. “That was before he showed up at your sister’s wedding with that woman. No. Ronan Masters is a much better option. I ‘ship’ you two. You need to jump him. Because if he’s that big, can you imagine—”
“Mom. Stop!” My face heats in mortification. “You can’t ‘ship’ me with Ronan Masters. How do you know what that means, anyway?”
“Sure, I can. Isn’t that the phrase the kids use nowadays? I’ve seen it on social media.”
“What social media are you on?” I groan.
She pats her Jane Fonda-esque hair. Eighties Jane Fonda-esque. “I started an Instagram for my Fabulous Fit Ladies. We have over one hundred thousand followers on IG.”
Sadie gasps. “How do you have that many followers? I only have a few hundred for my shop.”
“I’m happy to give you some tips,” my mom says. “And I’ve just started on TikTok. Maybe we can make a video with Ronan to post. Can you talk to him, Poppy dear?”
