Page 56 of A Night to Remember

But I know she’s not ready to make some big declaration. I stroke her hair, choosing my next words carefully.

She beats me to it. “I’ll probably be here for a few more months anyway. The publishing house I worked for after college doesn’t have a position for me anymore. I’m going to have to start from scratch, and the job market is super competitive. So far all I’ve done is obsess over my resumé.”

“Oh, that’s great!” I say, weirdly brightly, and she laughs.

“I’m glad my unemployment makes you so happy.” She smiles up at me irresistibly. I kiss her, and she kisses me back, twirling my hair around her fingers.

When we finally pull apart, I ask, “Is Adam the reason you don’t want to go to Hungry Hearts with me?”

“Doesanybodywant to go to Hungry Hearts?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

“Touché.” I smile back. “But seriously. I would love to have you there. I’m sure Lucy can make sure Adam is on his best behavior.”

She sighs. “I already promised Meg I would waitress for her. You know that,” she says, not unkindly, her arms still around me. This had been the standard excuse she’d given to my increasingly desperate, pop-song-assisted solicitations. I know Meg probably appreciates having a seasoned server on hand. I know it’s good money, and I know that means a lot to Kayla. But I can’t help it. I want her by my side. I want her to be my girl, and I want the world to know it.

But she’s already given me a lot tonight, and I don’t want to push it. I tell her I understand, and she looks relieved. Then she sets me up in a booth, brings me a beer, and encourages me towatch the rest of the Super Bowl on my phone while she finishes her shift.

When the Chiefs win—becauseof coursethey win, they’ve won three Super Bowls in five years, they are officially the best team in theworld—Kayla and I are alone in the café. I jump up with a shout, lift her up, twirl her around, then sit her on the table in front of me. She smiles, parts her legs for me, and pulls me close.

“Congratulations, Wilson,” she says. I kiss her slowly, deeply, feeling every stroke of her tongue against mine, the hitch in her breath as I press myself between her legs. I’ve kissed her dozens of times, maybe hundreds, depending on how you count. But this kiss is different. There’s the whisper of a promise in it that wasn’t there before.

“Take me home,” I growl at her, wrapping her ponytail around my fist. “And take me to bed.”

So she does.

26

Kayla

Meyer lemons,what the fuck are Meyer lemons?I think, staring at a display of identical-looking lemons in Kentwood’s slightly fancier grocery store. Hungry Hearts is this evening, and Meg is losing her mind. She’s convinced one of her dips needs more pizzazz, but not in the form of a “vulgar”regularlemon but rather a “refined”Meyerlemon. Whatever. I pick some lemons that look weirder and oranger and smaller than “vulgar” lemons and stride angrily toward the checkout.

I’ve been in a foul mood ever since Gabe more or less moved in with me after Super Bowl Sunday. Not when I’mwithGabe—when I’mwithhim there are lots and lots of jokes and snuggles and orgasms that act as powerful antidepressants. When I’mwithhim, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. But when we’re apart, an ugly black rain cloud settles over my head.

I haven’t been searching for jobs as much as I’d hoped (because of all the jokes and snuggles and orgasms). I haven’t been planning my future. I haven’t even been working on mywriting, and I’m furious at myself that everything is happening exactly the way I feared. Sure, it’s only been six days, but I already feel that I’ve completely lost sight of my goals and am one inevitable break-up away from being a waitress forever.

All day at the library or café, I work myself into such a lather that I’m ready to call it quits with him that night. But then he comes over, smiles that best-friend smile, takes me into his arms, and I just can’t. It would be like running over a puppy. Bending my own knee backwards. Sleeping at the foot of the bed. It would beagainst naturein some profound way. I am completely, utterly doomed.

Such are my thoughts when I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me in the checkout line.

“Well, well, well. Jesus fucking Christ. If it isn’t Kayla fucking Johnson.”

I turn around slowly, totally baffled, and, to be honest, a little scared. I find myself face to face with none other than Gretchen Meier. I haven’t seen her since high school and probably wouldn’t have recognized her if I hadn’t so recently combed through her Instagram account. We’re the same height—Gabe must like tall women—and she’s dressed with a kind of effortless elegance. Her dark hair is pulled back in a claw clip and her white puffer coat is so immaculately clean that it looks like it’s never been worn outside. I, however, am sporting my usual jeans and beat-up sneakers and a coat that wasn’t particularly nice when I bought it secondhand five years ago.

“Um, hi, Gretchen,” I say, for lack of anything better.

“Kayla Johnson,” she says again. “Heartbreaker. Homewrecker. I hope you’re happy.” She’s glaring at me, a tight, angry smile on her lips, and her delivery is so theatrical that I wonder if she’s secretly live-streaming this.

“Yeah, I’m doing all right,” I say, feeling like we’re having two different conversations. The cashier rings up my purchase,then hers, looking back and forth between us like this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to her all day. Gretchen follows me as I walk past the floral department towards the door.

“And, um, how are you, Gretchen? Are you in town for Hungry Hearts?” I ask, trying, again, to behave like a normal person.

“How am I?How am I? How can you ask me that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened with Gabe, but I really had nothing?—”

“Bullshit!” she shrieks, getting in my face. I worry suddenly that she’s going to hit me. Shoppers slow down to look at us in the same way they’d rubberneck a car crash. “He wasobsessedwith you. He spent our entire relationship scouring social media for you, perving out over an ancient LinkedIn profile, which was totally pathetic, by the way?—”

“How on earth would you even know that?”

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