Page 31 of The Probability of Us

I promised her then that I wouldn’t stop until I figured out a way around this, and I assure her again now. “Wewillkeep looking.”

When I look over at Warren, he’s watching the exchange with a small frown, but he nods in agreement with my words.

The exchange seems to sour the mood, and everyone stands to head back. The restaurant tonight was walking distance from the office and hotel, so our group splits up and heads in different directions. Clara and Serge wave and head towards the office to get their cars while Peter and Mac want to check out the town at night. They ask if anyone else wants to join but we all decline. Ben, the quietest of everyone, heads off with a short “Night,” and Jason hangs by my side like a shadow, waiting for me to say what I’m doing first.

I want to walk back with Warren, but Jason won’t let that happen, unless I can come up with an excuse as to why Warren and I are leaving together. I step away from Jason and say, “We’re heading to a friend’s place.”

Perfect—a non-public place so he can’t insist on joining us.

He frowns. “Together?”

Warren steps forward and joins the scene like an actor stepping into a role they were born to play. He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s someone we both knew from Triniti. When they heard I was in town they invited the old group over.”

Jason glares between us, not yet moving.

“Well, we’re headed this way.” I point in a direction that isn’t towards the office or the hotel, just so I know he has no excuse to try to walk with us. To seal the deal, I let the edge of annoyance into my voice as I add, “Have a good night.”

He grumbles something I can’t make out—and don’t care enough to ask about—and sulks away. Once he turns the corner and is out of sight, I let out a quiet laugh. Warren’s smile is full of amusement.

“I didn’t think he was ever going to leave,” he says.

“That’s Jason for you.” I roll my eyes. “It was easier with you backing up my story. We make a good team.”

“We always have.” His smile is gone, but there’s a different kind of joy present in his features.

I smile and start walking toward the hotel and he falls into step beside me. It’s quiet on the walk there, but it’s a calm, contemplative quiet. It’s the quiet of two people who don’t need words to speak—to communicate—to understand each other. It’s a happy quiet.

A wave of disappointment rolls through me when we get to the hotel. I’m not ready to leave him, but I don’t have a good excuse to stay. I try to hide my excitement when he solves that dilemma for me.

“Stay for a drink at the bar with me?” he offers, and the way he smiles makes it impossible for me to leave.

“Just one.” I smile.

And we both know it’s a lie.

Twelve

OCTOBER 8 YEARS AGO

Everyone in the bar lets out an audible, collective groan when the answer for the next question is read—everyone but me. I try to hold back my squeal of delight that we got it right and should be moving up the leaderboard. It’s been one of those trivia nights where your eyebrows pull together and your eyes narrow after every question is read, and you question if anyone knows this information at all. But even though I let out a laugh of disbelief after almost every question, Warren has been wearing a sly smile most of the night.

“How are you guys so good at this?” Ali asks when we get another hard question right and move into a tie for first place.

“His brain has so many random facts in it, I don’t know how it doesn’t explode.” I point to Warren and glance back at him with a smile. I lean over to kiss his cheek when he smiles back.

That’s my brilliant, handsome man.

At the end of the three main rounds, Warren and I are tied for first place. We had to get that last question right while the other team got it wrong to push the game to a tie, and I thought we were screwed when they read out the question. I mean, who the hell knows what the name of the commission established to investigate the JFK assassination was?

But Warren’s eyes lit up and he submitted our answer immediately—no hesitation—as I gawked.

“How did you know that one? You hate history,” I’d asked, but he just smiled and said, “You’ll see.”

I didn’t understand what that meant until the answer was read and it was “The Warren Commission.” I just laughed and shook my head as it was announced we were the only ones to get it right.

They don’t let the games end in a tie here, especially when the scores are high.

This was the first time we were involved in a tie. They didn’t happen often, but we at least understood how it’d go down. It was up to fate now.

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