Sweet Talk by Cara Bastone

Epilogue

Eliot

Four Months Later

“Eliot, honey, you look terrible.”

I turn and can’t help but grin at Frida’s horrified expression as she takes in my appearance. I admit, I’ve looked better.

It’s late summer and I’m standing in the sun, so I’d probably be sweaty even if I hadn’t just finished a two-hour workout at Geddy’s, but as it is, my clothes are literally soaked. I can see in the reflection of the cookie shop window next to me that my hair is sticking up in every direction and—yup—I’m definitely gonna have a shiner tomorrow. My sparring partner got a little overexcited today.

If you’d asked me four months ago if I’d be comfortable throwing punches in a gym, the answer would have probably been three straight minutes of me laughing. But that’s Jessie for you. First she convinces you you’ve secretly been a badass this whole time, and then she’s accidentally popping you in the eye during a workout.

“Oh,” I say to Frida. “I was just working out.”

She looks less than impressed by my answer. “Where? The sewer?”

I laugh. “No. Over at Geddy’s boxing gym.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you boxed.”

“My girlfriend got me into it.” The words pop out unexpectedly. Jessie’s officially been my girlfriend since about thirty seconds after she came up to my apartment the night we finally reconciled. We’ve told our families and friends, but not any of the other tenants in the building. And now, Frida’s eyes have lit up like I just revealed I’m secretly the prince of a small European country.

“A girlfriend, you say—”

The door of the cookie shop jingles and Frida cuts off when someone comes up behind me and puts me in a headlock. I recognize the constellation of tattoos on the forearm in front of my face. If Frida weren’t watching me, I’d plant a quick kiss there because kissing is how I show love. And I do honestly love this forearm, because it’s Jessie’s and headlocks are one of her most preferred methods of showing love.

She must not have seen I was talking to a fellow tenant when the headlocking began, but she’s certainly gotten the message now because suddenly we’re both standing straight, shoulder to shoulder, like schoolkids caught skipping math class. Jessie wordlessly passes me the double fudge cookie she just went into the shop to buy for me.

Frida’s eyes follow the path of the cookie. Her gaze darts from Jessie to me to the cookie and back to Jessie.

She’s doing salacious arithmetic in her mind, I can see it. She’s preparing to sprint to the top of the building where she keeps her messenger pigeons. In T-minus ten seconds, the entire city shall know that Eliot loves Jessie.

“Girlfriend?” Frida says, a menacing glee in her eyes.

I look down at Jessie and cock my head in question. She’s all messy bun, sweaty workout clothes, and that expression that just kills me. Like her face is perpetually saying I’m in if you’re in, Eliot.

I put my arm around her shoulders and kiss her messy hair. “Girlfriend,” I confirm to Frida.

Frida’s off and going, words flying out of her mouth at warp speed. Apparently she’s got a lot to say about me, Jessie, and, I assume, the cookie. But as the three of us start walking together, I gotta admit, I’m not listening. I’m too busy smiling down at Jessie, who is raising her eyebrows back at me. I tangle my fingers with hers the way I always do when we walk around in public, so that everyone will know that this sweet-hearted little toughie chose me.

When we get back to our building, we wave goodbye to Frida and duck together into Jessie’s apartment, fingers linked. I spend so much time down here that it’s starting to feel a little bit like my apartment as well. I haven’t brought it up with her yet, but my busy, busy brain has started to wonder what it might be like if all my stuff, ya know, lived with all her stuff. My apartment upstairs hasn’t really felt like home in a long time anyhow.

Jessie locks her door and turns and gives me the look. It’s my favorite look of hers. It’s the one she gave me right before our first kiss. Where her mouth is smirking but her eyes are happy. She takes a big step toward me.

“I’m sweaty,” I warn her, but her arms go around my neck anyway.

I grin down at her, getting a kick out of our six-inch height difference the way I always do. In so many ways, to me, Jessie is larger than life. The strongest, the fiercest. She also happens to be a little bit of a peanut and I die for it on a regular basis.

She goes up on her toes, and when her lips touch mine, my entire body goes hot, from the part of my hair all the way down to my toenails. My heart does the fifty-yard dash and I deepen the kiss, my hands in her hair and her familiar, perfect flavor on my tongue.

She breaks the kiss and we’re breathing hard, forehead to forehead.

“Eliot.”

“Hmm?”

“Frida’s gonna tell the whole building.”

“It’s about time.”

“She’s gonna be watching our every move from here on out.”

“I’ve been thinking she needs a new hobby anyway.”

“There’s no going back, you know.”

“Who’s going back?”

“Nothing scares you, huh?”

“Plenty scares me. But as long as I’ve got you? I figure I’m safe.”

“That’s right. I’ll protect you.”

“Thank goodness for wrong numbers.”

“And insomnia.”

“Yeah, when we’re accepting the award for best relationship ever, we’ll definitely have to remember to thank insomnia for its indispensable role in getting us together.”

“Oh, Lord. You’re gonna draw that, aren’t you. The award for best relationship ever?”

“We can put it on the fridge.”

“You’re lucky I find this cute.”

“You’re lucky I don’t find you intimidating.”

“We’re both lucky, then.”

“We are. We definitely are.”