“You’ll get used to him,” Devon was saying. “June? What’s wrong? Do you want me to—are you going to be sick? Should I get a bag?”
I really did feel like vomiting. “Trina Henry? That’s who you were dating?”
His face went carefully blank before he shrugged. “Yeah. We were together.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I should’ve googled this long ago, figured out the mystery of the breakup that had left Devon miserable and drunk and disorderly in a Dallas hotel room. As much as Nana loved the man, and as big a fan of his movies as she was, neither of us kept track of the actor’s personal life. I couldn’t keep up with who was dating whom in Hollywood. I didn’t care to.
I should’ve cared, though, when it came to Trina Henry.
Trina Henry was the human manifestation of a Barbie doll, more limbs than trunk, perfect platinum-blond hair, and sky-blue eyes always perfectly accentuated with the right makeup or jewelry or outfit. It was my firm belief that the makers of the Barbie doll somehow found a way to travel in time and model the toy off of Trina Henry—all lanky, gorgeous, and full of spunk and possibility. She defied typecasting, acting in everything from action to romance, horror to indie. People wanted to work with her because she was pretty and talented—two things that didn’t go together very often anymore.
She’d acted alongside Devon Ray, and it was apparent the sparks that flew between the two onscreen continued to give heat off it. Until a certain point, anyway. They broke up, after all.
I should’ve known about Trina. I should’ve looked it up before I even got on the plane with Devon and Nana. If I’d done that, then maybe I never would’ve let myself be beguiled by Devon’s charms.
There was no way I could ever hold a candle to how amazing Trina Henry was. If I’d known that she was the one who’d been with Devon before, it would’ve quelled any feelings, any pining I would’ve had for him.
There wasn’t any rebounding from Trina Henry. Devon had to know full well that he’d reached the pinnacle of his love life with her. Maybe that was why he’d been so shaken and upset, hiding out in Dallas.
“June, seriously. You have to explain what you’re thinking about. All I’ve been going on for the past five minutes is your facial expressions, and I’m frankly a little terrified.”
Devon was staring at me. I had to find my words.
“I didn’t realize you were with Trina Henry,” I said.
“That makes exactly one person in the entire world,” he grumbled. “June, everyone knows Trina and I were a thing.”
“Not everyone,” I said. “I kind of had better things to do with my time than to monitor your love life.”
“I wish the Internet was as kind,” Devon retorted. “Well, it’s not a thing anymore. It’s over.”
I shook my head. It wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet—that he’d never have anyone as good as Trina.
“June, are you listening to me? It’s over. Done.”
“She’s just…she’s just really amazing.”
Devon laughed, short and sarcastic. “I’m happy to hear you’re a fan of hers.”
“Listen, when we land in Dallas, you should just taxi back to the runway and go home,” I told him. “I’d save you the trouble of even landing if this damn plane came with parachutes. This isn’t going to work between you and me.”
He squinted at me. “Because I dated Trina Henry?”
I threw my hands up. “How can I ever compete with that? I can’t. It’s laughable that you’re interested in me. A joke.”
“How can I convince you that you’re incomparable, June?” he asked me. “What is it going to take to make you understand that your self-worth shouldn’t be measured against other women? You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re a good person. What’s it going to take for you to get it?”
His vehemence made me shrink away from him. “Sorry,” I said, sheepish. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never dated a famous Hollywood actor before. You’re going to have to give me some time to adjust.”
Devon’s look softened, and he took my hand. “I know it might be a culture shock, at first, but you have to give yourself credit, June. Why can’t you see yourself the way I see you?”
I shook my head, eager for this conversation to be over. Devon could try and be sweet all he wanted, but the truth would remain that I was the next girl he’d been with after Trina Henry. What did that even mean? To purge her perfection from his psyche, did Devon need someone slovenly, like me? I wore clothes with food stains on them, for pity’s sake. I still got pimples even though I was well beyond puberty. I’d been living with Nana, which was, God love her and keep her, the very opposite of sexy and interesting.