Page 69 of Last First Kiss
Jordan doesn’tcreepdown the hall to Kami’s office. But he doesn’t stroll either. It’s more of a quick shuffle that might look as if he doesn’t want to be seen by a certain someone.
Operation Avoid Mom is going amazingly, thanks for asking.
He doesn’t have the energy to explain—or give a half-assed excuse—to his mom for why he hasn’t gone on a date with Josie or whomever she’s desperate to set him up with. Kami’s expecting a recap of wedding plans.
Jordan slips into her office, pretending he’s not looking over his shoulder like the fuckingNational Guardis tracking him for updates on his dating life.
“Morning,” he singsongs.
Kami’s head snaps up. Her face looks as tired as he feels.
“Let me guess.…” He carefully deposits the Orange Dream Star in front of her before flopping onto the lavender love seat. “Mikah’s moved on to the MarvelBlack PantherLEGO film?”
“I wish.” Kami sits back in her chair, doughnut in hand. Her other hand waves toward the computer monitor. “It’s my dad’s birthday party. Even after retiring, he still needs to be in control.”
“Sounds like Uncle Kenny.”
“Why can’t he be like other retired dads? Golf. Paint the house. Learn a completely useless hobby that forces you down a YouTube rabbit hole about the history of crocheting.”
Jordan blinks. “That was… very specific.”
“See what happens when I don’t get sleep?” Kami chews off a star point. “Also, Eric’s out. One of the twins is sick. I’m doing my best to cover for him.”
Jordan sits taller. “Maybe it’s time to fill that open events manager spot you vacated last year?” he says sweetly.
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Let me guess. You already have somebody in mind?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly”—Kami pauses for another bite—“you should fill me in on yourcurrentposition before planning for future ones?”
“It’s never too early to start,” Jordan chimes.
“Have you seen the news?”
“What, like, CNN?”
“No. The Final Word?By Invitation Only? BuzzFeed?” When Jordan shrugs one shoulder, she gapes at him. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve been busy. Planning a wedding.”
And having strange nightmares. Trying not to think about that funny backflip my stomach does whenever I think about citrus-flavored cake. Or overanalyze whatever happeneddown therewhen Jamie fed it to me.
All completely normal adult thoughts.
Kami trades her doughnut for her keyboard. A few clacks later, she turns the screen for Jordan to view. It’s tab after tab of lower-level entertainment sites reporting on “the wedding of prized Hollywood director’s youngest son!”
“Okay,” he says slowly. This is what they wanted. Whathewanted. The company in every headline. “This is good, right?”
“It’s great,” Kami confirms. But the skin between her eyebrows is pinched. Her worried face. “Tom’s publicist is emailing me nonstop. We’re getting calls fromVariety,Deadline,Us Weekly.”
Jordan forces himself not to frown. It’s notEntertainment WeeklyorPeople, but close.
“That’s also good, right?”
She bites her bottom lip. “This is big. Bigger than I expected, to be honest.”
“I’m not following.”
