The theme for the fundraiser dinner was A Night Amongst the Stars, another excuse for everyone to dress their best in shades of black and gold. Hilliard had on a gold silk double-breasted waistcoat under his white jacket and tie to match.
Monty was still studying him in the mirror.
“Do you usually wear makeup to these events?”
Hilliard had used a fingertip to swipe gold powder across his eyelids too, along with a dusting of subtle pink rouge on his cheeks. He hadn’t decided what to do with his lips yet.
“Only when I’m facing the public,” Hilliard told him. “The parties I usually go to are with people who already know what I look like with or without, and movie premieres are too dark for anyone to see me anyhow.”
“I never noticed.” Monty said this in a soft way that made Hilliard suddenly feel very, very seen. His skin tingled at the attention. “I think there’s only one thing missing.”
Hilliard’s forehead wrinkled as he glanced down at himself, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. He’d already put on his nicest pair of shiny shoes, his gold wristwatch, and even his favorite sweet cologne for good measure.
“What did I forget?”
Monty pushed away from the doorjamb and took a step forward, revealing the hand that had been hiding somewhere behind him. He had a small bundle of white and yellow flowers tied up with a gold ribbon and bow.
Daisies. His favorite.
“May I?” Monty asked.
Hilliard found that he was too surprised to speak, so instead he nodded and watched as Monty carefully pinned the boutonniere to the left lapel of his jacket. The flowers looked fresh and lovely.
“When did you get this?”
Hilliard had been with him all day, first during their morning of filming and a short interview for the newspaper, and then as they ran a few errands before returning home to prepare for the event. Certainly he would’ve noticed Monty picking it up at some point.
“Don’t worry about it,” Monty said. “Do you like it?”
Hilliard realized then that Monty looked a little worried about the answer to that question.
“Of course I do.” Hilliard looked at his reflection, brushing a few fingertips just beneath the flowers as he admired them. “Thank you. I’m sorry I haven’t got anything to give you. I wish I had known–”
“You can thank me by helping me get through tonight in one piece,” Monty said, sounding more serious than Hilliard had expected.
It was the first truly public event Monty was attending since their arrangement began and he’d been making an effort to clean up his act. The seats were $100 each, beckoning only the wealthiest and most prominent of guests. He’d already heard that the governor would be in attendance, as well as several other politicians, famous musicians, sports players, and CEOs.
“You’re going to do just fine,” Hilliard soothed, giving both of Monty’s shoulders a squeeze before letting his hands trail down to his wrists and circling them with his fingers. “Have one nice, strong drink and then switch to water. Keep your boldest opinions to yourself in conversation. Be polite and smile. You know how this works.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Monty said with the air of a petulant youth. “I know.”
Hilliard smiled and let go of his wrists.
“Now get out so I can finish putting my face on before the car arrives.”
Monty snorted out a laugh but did as he was told.
Hilliard picked the tube of lipstick only slightly darker than his natural shade and applied it with care. As he stood back from the mirror and blotted his lips with a folded tissue, his attention fell to the cluster of daisies he was wearing.
Monty had implied that they were meant to be a thank you for helping him get through the evening. His first thought was, unfortunately, that the night hadn’t even begun. Anything could happen. He believed in Monty, but he also knew that having a temper and a wild streak weren’t things that could be remedied into perfection after only a few weeks. It would take time, perhaps even a lifetime, to learn how to manage them.
His second thought arrived with a fluttering in his stomach.
Monty had bought him flowers.
And not just a bouquet to set on the dining room table for the two of them to enjoy during meals, but one for him to wear out that everyone would see.
It wasn’t all that unusual for Hilliard to find an excuse to wear a boutonniere, but he’d never been given one by someone else. He’d even bought his own for senior promenade because he wanted to make sure that it matched the rest of his outfit. His high school beau hadn’t seemed to mind all that much.
