“I don’t think you can be mad at me ever again.” Jack took a sip of his beer and gave the Taco Hut waitress a polite smile. She was looking at him and openly laughing as she set down their food. “I think I’ve earned your eternal forgiveness.”
Hallie shook her head seriously, but her eyes were dancing when she said, “You think just because you’re wearing that, we’re square?”
He stood, just so she could look again at what she’d done. Animal-print workout pants, crop top, fuchsia pashmina, yellow Chuck Taylors, and a red fedora with a patch that said EAT ME. He did a spin and held up his hands, waiting for an answer, and Hallie started laughing again.
“I can’t believe you wore it.”
“Of course I wore it,” he said, sitting back down and giving her a look. He seriously would dress like that every day if it meant he could have her. “I love you.”
She rolled her eyes and teased, “Are you sure, though? Maybe you just think you love me.”
As hard as it had been for him to get his head around his feelings, everything—just like that—had become crystal clear. Maybe it was her absence in his life for the past couple of weeks, but he suspected it was common sense kicking in after being late as fuck to the party.
“Listen, Tiny Bartender.” He grabbed the plate of nachos and slid it in front of her, because they both knew she loved selecting the first chip. “You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love you three times. Please tell me my hands are cold so we can get on with our lives already.”
She picked a chip that was dead center, covered in beef and cheese. As she carefully lifted it, trying not to lose any of the red onions (but she always did), she said, “But what if I only think your hands are cold, Jack? I mean, how can I be sure?”
“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” he asked, loving her stupid grin as she lorded his screwup over him.
She shook her head, and her grin turned softer. Less teasing, more sweet. “I’m going to be bringing this up for a long, long time.”
There was a promise in her words, and Jack felt like the luckiest guy in the world.
So he pulled out his phone.
Jack: I’m on a date, and I think she’s The One. Is it bad form to rush her through dinner because I’m dying to get her in the sack?
He watched her pull her phone out of her pocket, read the message, and smile.
She texted quickly.
Hallie: Seriously, dipshit, “in the sack” is awful.
Was it weird that he kind of wanted to cry with happiness?
He responded with: How about “I’m dying to do the deed with her”?
Hallie: I feel like that implies you want her to help you murder someone.
Jack: I’ve got it. I’m dying to engage with her in the physical act of love.
“Put the phone down before I puke,” Hallie said, setting her phone on the table and laughing as she took a bite of her chip. “I know your date, and she’s all-in for getting railed after dinner. So hurry up and eat.”
He set down the phone, grabbed his fork, and scooped half of the entire nacho platter onto his plate. “From your lips to Ditka’s ears.”
EPILOGUE
Christmas Eve
“This is amazing!” Jack’s dad kept staring at the baseball, turning it around in his hand so he could see all the signatures. “I can’t believe you got me this, Jackie boy! Did you see it, Will?”
Hallie and Jack shared a grin from where they were sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree. Since they’d both found each other on the app at the same time, he won the ball and she won his airline miles.
“Yeah, Dad, I saw it,” Jack’s brother said, muttering Jackie boy under his breath like it was an obscenity.
“I knitted you a scarf with my own hands,” Olivia said, glaring at her dad from her spot on the couch beside Colin. “But sure, a stupid baseball is amazing.”
“You don’t get it,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You weren’t there.”
“Because you didn’t invite me,” Olivia said.
“You hate baseball.”
“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be invited,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Assbags.”
“Language, Olivia,” Jack’s mom said, looking at Hallie with wide eyes like she was shocked by what Olivia had said. “I apologize for her.”
“It’s okay,” Hallie said.
“Yeah, Hal curses like a damn sailor,” Jack teased.
“I do not!”
“Jackson Alan,” his mother warned, “knock it off.”
Hallie’s mouth dropped open before she whispered, “Your name is Jackson Alan? Like the country singer, only flipped?”
“My mother loves country music,” he said, sounding embarrassed.
They had Christmas Eve dinner with his family, and when they were finally finished and on the way home, Jack said, “Your present is in the glove box if you want it.”
“Classy,” she said, yanking open the glove box as fast as she could.
She didn’t see anything wrapped in holiday paper, but there was a manila envelope with her name on it. She glanced over at him and said, “If you’re suing me for something, Marshall, I swear to God I will cut you.”
“Open it,” he said.
She ran a finger under the seal, then reached in a hand and pulled out the papers. She started flipping through them, one by one, and she was blinking back tears by the time she figured it out.
“You’re taking me back to Vail?” It looked like he’d made reservations for the same room they’d been in the first time, only this time they were getting there by train. “For seven nights?”
“Ten-day trip total.” He glanced over, put his hand on her knee, and said, “It was the best vacation I’ve ever been on, except for the whole terrified-of-blowing-my-cover-and-losing-my-best-friend stress. So how about we go back without all the worry and family and ex-boyfriend?”
“This is the very best present ever!” she squealed, clasping all the paperwork to her chest with one hand and putting her other hand over his. “Thank you, Jack.”
That’s only part of the present, he thought, picturing the ring box in his closet as she teasingly rained kisses over his face while he drove. He knew it was probably too soon, but he also couldn’t stop himself. Hallie was everything he’d never known he wanted, and it seemed unwise for him to drag his feet when his forever girl was right there in front of him.
“You’re welcome,” he said, watching the neighborhood Christmas lights rush by as he drove.
“You have to wait until Christmas morning,” Hallie said, turning up the Michael Bublé song playing on the radio, “for your best present ever.”
And it occurred to him, when he woke up under the Christmas tree the next morning with Hallie’s cat sitting on his neck and her knee in his back, that he already had it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS