His Beauty

by Sofia Tate

  I walk the few steps to the counter to pay. Once I put away my wallet, I take the box in my hands. “Thank you so much, Señora Rojas. Have a lovely Christmas.”

  “Gracias, Miss Moore. Feliz Navidad!”

  Esperanza races to the door. “I’ll get it for you, Miss Lily!” she offers excitedly.

  I make my way over to her, but before I can leave she grabs my waist in a quick embrace. “Bye, Miss Lily! Feliz Navidad!”

  I smile to myself, looking back at Mrs. Rojas for some guidance.

  “Ay, Esperanza! Let Miss Lily go!”

  “Okay, okay,” she answers her mother. She releases me and pulls the door open.

  I look down at her and give her a full smile. “Gracias, sweetheart. Feliz Navidad!”

  When I reach Ingrid, I put the centerpiece on the floor next to me on the passenger side. I pull out my phone to check my list for my next errand.

  Crossing the Hudson River back to Cottage Grove, Esperanza’s words swirl around in my head, unsettling me with thoughts of how a child possibly knows me better than I do.

  * * *

  “Please be nice to her.”

  “I’m always nice, babe.”

  “Civil. You’re civil. There’s a difference.”

  Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Reed takes my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and brushing his lips against it. “I swear, Lily, you have nothing to be nervous about.”

  I nod my head in silence, staring down at the flowers in my lap. I breathe in their scent, not just because they’re beautiful but also as a means of calming my nerves.

  Ever since Reed and I have been together we’ve switched our visits between families on Thanksgiving, but for Christmas, it’s always the same—Christmas Eve on our own, Christmas Day with my mom, and the 26th (or Boxing Day as Reed’s WASP parents refer to it) with Reed’s family.

  I glance back over at Reed, whose face has a shit-eating grin on it.

  “Okay, give it up.”

  “What?” he asks innocently.

  “Something is going on. I’ve never seen you look this happy when we go to my mom’s, especially for Christmas.”

  “Can’t I just be happy? It’s Christmas!” he replies a bit too cheerfully.

  Next thing I know, he’s going to break into song.

  Oh yeah, something is definitely up with him.

  Thankfully, we finally pull into my mom’s driveway behind her Jeep.

  Before I can reach for the handle, Reed jumps out and opens the door for me. He takes the centerpiece from me with one hand, helping me from the car with the other.

  I give him a smile, even though I’m still suspicious about his good mood and the reason for it. “Thank you.”

  He leans over and pecks me on the lips. “My pleasure.”

  I grab my mom’s Christmas present from the back seat. Then, taking my hand once more, Reed walks with me up the path to the front door. When I push it open, the scent of roast duck and baked apples and the sound of Elvis singing “Blue Christmas” welcomes us in.

  “Mom, we’re here!” I shout out into the open space.

  Dressed in a jade green knit dress that perfectly matches her eyes, my mother appears from the kitchen.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she greets me with a tight embrace. Releasing me, she turns to Reed. “Hello, Reed. Merry Christmas,” Mom says with a modicum of kindness, leaning in to him, giving him a short hug and a swift kiss on his cheek.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Moore. I’m glad to be here. I’ll just go put this on the table,” Reed offers with a smile, gesturing to the flowers in his hands.

  “Yes, please. Thank you, Reed,” Mom replies. But before I can follow him to the dining room, she grabs me by the elbow.

  “What the hell?” she whispers under her breath, her eyes averting to the other room where Reed is now.

  I shrug my shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. Something is up with him, Mom. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. It’s really freaking me out.”

  “Me too. Usually he can barely muster a grin. He’s never friendly like this; more like civil.”

  I slap my mother’s arm. “Oh my God! I told him that exact same thing in the car on our way over. He said he’d be nice, but almost as if there was more to it.”

  Mom nods. “I’m getting that.” She glances into the kitchen. “We’d better go join him or he’ll start wondering what happened to us. I’ll get the hors d’oeuvres and meet you in the living room.”

  “Good idea,” I reply, heading for the living room with the shopping bag holding Mom’s present.

  My heart grows full when I see the trimmed tree lit up with white twinkle lights. The ornaments I made as a kid, like the clothespin toy soldier and an egg decorated like Santa Claus with a cotton beard and red construction paper hat, are proudly displayed. I gently place Mom’s present on the canopy under the tree, already spotting a few brightly wrapped gifts with my name on them.

  Mom comes out of the kitchen with a silver tray of cheese and crackers, nearly bumping into Reed coming in from the dining room. “Whoa! Watch out! Where’s the fire?”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Moore! I’ll be right back!” he shouts back over his shoulder.

  I stand frozen in place with my mouth hanging open. “Where’s he going?” Mom asks as the door slams behind him.

  I shake my head. “I have no idea.”

  A few seconds later he returns, out of breath and carrying a bottle of champagne in his hand. My brows narrow in confusion. “Reed, what’s going on?”

  He puts the champagne on the coffee table on top of a coaster, then takes a few steps to me, guiding us to the fireplace. “Mrs. Moore, before you go back to the kitchen, I need a moment of your time.”

  Her eyes give him a quizzical look. “All right.”

  I exchange glances with Mom when Reed clears his throat. He takes my hands into both of his, looking straight at me.

  “Lily, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, and I’m sorry for that. You mean the world to me and I love you. I want to give you a symbol of my love for you, and I hope it’ll be with your mother’s blessing.”

  Blessing.

  Oh my God…

  My hands start to shake.

  He can’t possibly be…

  But he is, because before I can say something, Reed lowers himself to the ground, leaving one knee up as he searches for something in his jacket pocket.

  Fuck.

  A robin’s egg-blue ring box appears in his right hand.

  Tiffany.

  He pops the top open on the box, revealing the shiniest diamond ring I’ve ever seen in my life. The stone is round with tiny diamonds lining the band.

  “Lily Moore, will you marry me?”

  My limbs freeze. Suddenly I’ve lost all train of thought.

  “Baby?”

  Reed’s quiet yet insistent voice brings me back to where I’m standing, in my childhood home where the man I’ve dated and lived with for two years has just asked me to marry him.

  “Um, Lily, I asked you a question,” he laughs nervously.

  When I spot Mom sitting on the sofa, her face holds a slight smile. There are tears in her eyes. She doesn’t say a word.

  “Wh…”

  “Lily? My knee’s starting to give out.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Yes!” Reed shouts, placing the ring on my finger, then scooping me up into his arms. “Thank God! I thought you were going to say no!”

  He puts me down, then holding my hand turns to Mom. “I hope we have your blessing, Mrs. Moore.”

  She rises from the couch, wiping her eyes before hugging him. “Of course you do, Reed. Congratulations,” she replies barely above a whisper, her eyes boring into me. “Reed, would you mind terribly if I had a word with Lily?”

  “Oh sure, of course! I’m going to call my parents and tell them the good news.”

  She watches Reed head into the kitchen, then
tugs me over to the side, her face inches from mine. “What were you going to say?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before you said ‘okay,’ you were going to say something else.”

  “No I wasn’t,” I insist.

  “Lily. Tell me.”

  I know better than to hide anything from my mother.

  I exhale a breath. “I was going to say ‘Why?’”

  Mom shakes her head. “I knew it. Why didn’t you?”

  “Because it would’ve ruined the moment.”

  Mom throws her hands up in the air. “Damn it, Lily! Who gives a fuck about the moment? If you had doubts, you should’ve said something.”

  Tears begin to flow down my cheeks. “He obviously loves me, Mom. He’s trying. Please don’t ruin this for me.”

  Mom rubs her thumbs across my face to wipe away the moisture. “Sweetheart, I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Reed’s voice calls from the kitchen. “Lily! Come here! My parents want to congratulate both of us.”

  I lean over and kiss Mom on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.” I rise from the sofa, reaching over to the box of tissues on the coffee table. “Coming!” I reply to my fiancé, wiping away the rest of my tears.

  Chapter Ten

  I glance around at the gilded dining room of a country club in Saratoga where I’m sitting with my boyfriend (now fiancé) Reed and his parents. Wine glasses clink against each other ever so gently, conversations buoy to the ceiling lilting with laughter and a general feeling of gaiety. The finest cuisine has been consumed, an empty champagne bottle sits abandoned on the damask-covered table.

  But for me, the air in the room is stuffy. I pull at the lace collar on my dress as if it were choking me—carefully, so as not to attract any attention to the fact that I’m uncomfortable. I’m here discussing wedding plans with Reed and my future in-laws. I keep reminding myself this is supposed to be a happy occasion. I know Mr. and Mrs. Shepard are doing this to be nice. Maybe I haven’t given them the benefit of the doubt all this time. Maybe they are genuinely good people.

  I look up to the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

  I love how the outside light reflects in the crystals. I wish I had my Nikon.

  A fingertip taps the top of my hand, interrupting my thoughts. “Lily, my dear, I know a wonderful designer who can create the most beautiful dress for you,” his mother says.

  “Yes, but I can’t afford—”

  “You’re going to be family, my daughter-in-law, and we simply can’t have you walking down the aisle in some off-the-rack frock. Speaking of which, who do you think will be escorting you to the altar?”

  Good question, Adeline.

  Mrs. Shepard’s voice fades in the background as I tune her out.

  I can’t even comprehend how quickly Reed’s parents have adjusted to their heir apparent son marrying a girl who’s never belonged to the Junior League or Daughters of the American Revolution. They seem so accepting of the engagement. Did Reed talk to them before he proposed? Give them a PowerPoint presentation…

  “Mom, Dad, as you can see from the agenda, I’ve broken down this meeting, ‘The Pros and Cons of Marrying Lily Moore’, into several categories—physical appearance, job status, financials, potential as mother and wife in a socially prominent family, social liabilities, prenup requirements…”

  It might not have happened like that, but something akin to it is a strong possibility.

  The sound of Mr. Shepard’s patrician voice gets my attention. “Son, I’ve been thinking. I know you don’t have a PhD, but maybe you could get ahead in your job by showing how dedicated you are to it. Like some kind of form of ‘extra credit.’”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Reed replies. “In fact, I have a meeting this week with the new chair of my department, Tabitha Cross.”

  “Well done, son. Now you’re thinking like a Shepard.”

  As Adeline drones on and Reed and his father exchange invisible high-fives, my purse vibrates in my lap. I reach in for my phone and see Sky’s name on my caller ID.

  I slide my chair back before even saying anything, holding the phone up in my hand. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I look over at Reed, who’s engaged in conversation with his father and two men who’ve stopped by the table, not even noticing that I’m leaving.

  I hurry out to a quiet corner in the lobby, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Sky.”

  “You’re engaged and I have to hear about it from your mom? I thought I was your best friend.”

  My shoulders slack in exasperation. “Oh my God. I so sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just the past forty-eight hours have been so crazy, and now I’m stuck at some fancy country club with Reed and his parents and his mom is going on and on about wedding dresses…”

  “Stop, Lil! Stop! I can hear it in your voice.”

  I hear her take a breath.

  “Look, you know I love you, but I’m really concerned because the last time I saw you you weren’t all that gung-ho about Reed, and now you’re going to marry him? I just have three words for you.”

  “And they would be?”

  “What the fuck?”

  I shake my head. “I know. Could we get together next week for coffee or something? I really need to talk to someone about this.”

  “Of course we can, sweets. I have to check my teaching schedule. Can I let you know?”

  “Absolutely. And thanks.”

  “That’s what besties are for, hon.”

  I hit end on my phone, inhaling deeply before heading back into the lion’s den.

  * * *

  Grayson

  I look out the window. A cloudless blue sky stares back at me. I walk over to my closet, sorting through the shirts hanging from the rack to find the perfect one to wear.

  Lily will be here today.

  I haven’t seen her since before Christmas. But now it’s the 28th, and she’s due back at work today.

  I’ve missed her. I didn’t even realize how much until now. It’s the way her eyes set ablaze when she gets upset about something. Her self-confidence. How she’s never afraid to be honest with me when I’m being a bastard.

  I pull on my best pair of freshly washed jeans, followed by the boots I wear in the studio, which are covered in bits of hardened clay.

  I check myself out. I look good. Not stuffy, casual bohemian.

  Wait.

  What the fuck is “casual bohemian”?

  I shake my head.

  What have I become? Worrying over what I wear just to impress a woman?

  I can’t let myself do that. It would raise my expectations. Make me hope for the impossible.

  I head downstairs from my bedroom. Turning the corner into the kitchen, I hear a commotion in the supply closet. Its door is already slightly ajar, and when I look inside, I see Lily kneeling on the floor, moving the mops in the bucket aside so she can reach the rags in a plastic container under the counter.

  I gently whisper her name. “Lily.”

  Her head bolts up, hitting the wood of the counter above.

  “Ow!” she yells in pain.

  Oh no.

  I reach for her to help her to her feet as she eases out from under the counter. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She instantly begins rubbing her head as she stands upright. I’m still holding her elbow to keep her steady.

  “It’s okay,” she says, wincing. “I’m fine.”

  “How was your Christmas?”

  She pauses. “Umm…quiet. Uneventful.”

  I notice she continues to rub her head.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She steps back from me. “Yes, yes. It’s really okay.”

  I take a step closer, stretching out my right hand to touch the top of her head. “Please, allow me to check for any bumps to ensure I’ve caused no injuries.”


  I hear her let out a slight laugh, still rubbing her head. “Why? You afraid I’m going to sue you or something?”

  “What? No, of course not. I just…”

  Finally she looks straight at me with a smile. “Grayson, I was joking. I’m fine.”

  I’m about to answer when our hands touch without warning. My eyes lock on hers. A silence comes over us. All the air has escaped my lungs. I can’t look away from her.

  An unknown amount of time passes before she finally speaks.

  “Really, I’ll be okay,” she tells me, barely above a whisper.

  I’m shifting my hand away from hers when my fingers graze something sharp. She must see the quizzical expression on my face because she quickly snatches her hand down to her side.

  It was on her left hand.

  I can see her swallow, most likely from nerves.

  I stand up taller, now boring my eyes into hers even more.

  “Your Christmas wasn’t that uneventful, was it?”

  She looks down at the floor. “No,” she manages. Then she lifts her head and her eyes meet mine. “My boyfriend asked me to marry him and I accepted.”

  My fists clench. “Well then, I suppose I should wish you congratulations. I hope you’ll be very happy. I should get to the studio now.”

  I can hear her begin to utter ‘Thank you’ over my shoulder, but I’m already inches from the kitchen door.

  I rush down the passageway to the studio. My head swirls with thoughts, thoughts that make me want to pound clay until my hands bleed.

  I shove the studio door open, slamming it against the wall. I tear off my shirt, buttons scattering like pebbles to the floor.

  But when I turn to my work in progress, I can’t face it. It deserves care and patience, something I’m not capable of right now.

  I storm over to the unopened boxes of sculpting clay. I start to open one with my bare hands, pulling at the tape with my fingernails, tearing the top of the box with both hands.

  How could she possibly marry him? I don’t need to meet him in person to know what kind of a bastard he is. Just from what I heard of that phone call alone is enough to know that he does not deserve her.