Page 95 of Most Likely to Score
When we wake up together the next morning, Jones whispers in my ear, “Told you I like waking up next to you.”
Then he shows me why it’s my favorite way to wake up, too.
EPILOGUE
JONES
A week later, we’re at another restaurant, and Jillian’s boss holds up the charity calendar before the crowd.
“And look at February,” Lily says, showing off the cat and me at the winery.
The crowd cheers, and I wave from my spot next to her.
“And how about March?” That’s the shot from Stinson Beach.
More hoots and hollers abound.
When we make it to the Miami shots, my heart beats a little faster, and I look to Jillian, standing at the bar.Love those, I mouth to her.
Me, too, she replies.
They remind me of the best play I ever made. The one for her heart.
ANOTHER EPILOGUE
JILLIAN
Several months later
Jones’s mom doesn’t need any help in the kitchen, but I offer anyway. I always do, since I’m so often here in the off-season.
“Yes, if you could grab the salad from the fridge, that would be great,” she says.
“I can do that,” I say, snagging the bowl and setting it on the dinner table.
It’s Sunday supper, and Jones, his siblings, his dad, and his mom are here. Oh, someone else is here, too. My dad. He doesn’t live far away, and he’s not terribly busy, so I picked him up on the way, and I love that he’s become part of these get-togethers.
He and Jones’s parents get along well. They talk about politics, sports, and the state of the world. Sometimes they do that thing the older generation does—they chat about how much harder it was when theywere growing up. Those of us in the younger generation laugh and roll our eyes.
As I sit at the table with some of my favorite people, I mostly listen. I listen to my dad ask thoughtful questions about local town issues, I listen to Trevor share details of his beer show, and I listen to Jones’s dad as he compliments his wife on the dinner, and on how pretty she looks.
In moments like these, I see where the gentleman in Jones came from—from his family. From these people he loves to the ends of the earth and back. As I raise a glass of iced tea and take a sip, I remember the night in Wine Country when I wished that someday I would be able to come here and bring wine and flowers. Now I have, and now I do, and it fills my heart with so much joy that I know my mom would say all the choices I made that brought me here were the right ones.
They were. They absolutely were.
As the meal ends, Jones clears his throat. “There’s something I wanted to bring up.”
“Yes, my dear?” his mother asks.
“And since everyone is here, this seems as good a time as any.”
My dad looks deliberately away from me, as if he’s avoiding eye contact. I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t look at Jones, either. Not as Jones rises, not as he walks to me, and not as he takes my hand.
“What is it?”
“Jillian, I love you madly, and I have loved nothing more than taking you out on dates, showing you off,making you happy, and making sure the world knows you’re spoken for.”
“You’ve done a pretty good job of that,” I say, wondering why he needed to get up from his chair to say it. Then, a possibility flashes before my eyes. Fireworks light up inside me, bursting with hope.
