The Love Wager by Lynn Painter

            “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.