“I don’t know.” He nervously scratched the back of his head. “I mean, I really like to cuddle.”
I glared at him through my one good eye, which was less blurry than the other one. I picked up my glass to take another drink, but found it empty, which made me sad. I didn’t want to be sad because I had a plan. Or more like a pact, and I was trying to snatch a partner for my pact. I flashed him more duck lips and said, “Quack,” which sent us both into another rush of laughter.
“Okay,” his tone lowered, and he latched his eyes onto mine. “I’m done with duck lips. If I am not engaged by Christmas, I’ll be done dating too, and we can do hayrides together.”
“Wait.” My eyes skirted the room, trying to see where that idea came from. “What did you say?”
“I said, I’m in. I agree with your pact. I’ll give up if I’m not engaged by Christmas.”
“No, no, no.” I wagged my finger in the air. “What was that other part?”
“We can do hayrides together?” His voice teetered up, ending his statement as a question.
“Together?” I hiked a brow at him, feeling his vibes. “Are you saying, when we give up trying to find other people, we will just be together?”
“Well, I mean, if we are both single . . . it makes sense that we hang out, no?”
“Wait for a second. I’m getting an idea.” I leaned forward, trying to pull him into my excitement. “If we aren’t married by Christmas, thenwe should get married to each other!”
I could see him mouth the words “marry each other,” but it wasn’t audible. Then his eyes sprang wide as they hooked mine. “Yeah, that’s the best idea ever!”
“I know!” I sprang to my feet, exclaiming, “I’m getting matching turtlenecks just in case! What’s your size?”
“Large,” he answered in a definitive tone and added, “I’ll book the honeymoon suite here at the lodge—just in case.”
“Right.” I nodded, finding it perfectly acceptable. Then I leaned forward, extending a playful fist toward him. Somewhere over the years of wasting time together, we had accidentally made our secret handshake, and I was ready to deploy it. “Okay, Nick this is it. I swear if I’m not married by Christmas, I will meet you here in Mapleton, and marry you.”
He balled his fist and pushed it out toward me for a bump, then we both made a half heart with our fingers and connected it in the middle. Nick didn’t waste a second to confirm, “Deal.”
two
Nick Briggs
Six months later
ItwasarandomFriday night in July, and I was out with some of the guys from our office softball league. We completed a two-day tournament, which was actually pretty fun. I hit the ball every time I batted, and I also didn’t drop any I caught, helping our team come in second place. For a group of guys who’d never played together before, and many who’d never played much at all because we were more “nerds” than jocks, we were stoked about that.
We found a round high-top table in the back corner of the pub and piled around it. My boss, Trey Michaels, sat one seat over from me, leaving the seat immediately next to me open. He gestured to the seat, “Atalie is going to be joining us in a minute. If that’s okay, I’m saving her a seat.”
“That’s cool.” I had to almost holler over the celebratory voices of the group mixed with the crowd noise. I would never classify myself as an introvert like most of the guys I worked with, because I was social, but the bar scene was never my favorite.
“Or, do you have someone coming,” Trey nearly yelled again. “Because I can move down one more?”
“No,” I said as a victory cheer erupted across the table.
Trey must not have heard me because he repeated his question, this time enunciating each word more, almost shouting it at me. “Do. You. Have. A. Date. Coming!”
Of course, when the boss shouts, people listen, especially since he never shouts, and it’s completely out of his character. The side conversations around the table dropped off, all eyes fled to Trey screaming about my dating life. I don’t normally get embarrassed. Not around these guys anyway. We worked together every day, and they all know I’m single, but it felt as if every pair of eyes in the entire bar was on me now. “No.” My single word answer was extra sharp, hoping to send the message that I wasn’t open to discussing my dating life, or lack thereof any further. I tugged on the bill of my ballcap, pulling it down low, and dug into the bowl of pretzels in front of me. Everybody went right back into their conversations, and more of their dates joined us, filling every other chair with a beautiful woman.
I pulled out my phone, saw I had a Goodreads update, notifying me that Charlotte had updated her book recommendations. Her date must have been awful, because she was home early, and updating books on Friday night. Who does that?
Me: “How was your set up with Salsa king?”
Charlotte: “Don’t ask.”
Me: “Okay. What are you doing home so early tonight?”
Charlotte: “He brought me a jar of salsa!!”
