And then I cackle.
Waverly doesn’t suddenly change her mind, which means mine’s made up.
Tillie Jean should know by now that you don’t awaken the beast in November.
Not if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life looking like a toddler who had an accident in a glitter factory.
I whip out my phone and send a quick text. “I’ve got an idea or two for some epic revenge,” I tell Waverly.
“Can you make sure the revenge that comes back doesn’t involve anyone jumping out of dark enclosed spaces and scaring the actual shit out of me?”
“Ground rules will be re-laid just for you. Also, in case a prank ever goes too far, the safe word isdad’s balls are saggy today. Sorry. Awkward. But it works for all of us.”
God, she has the best laugh.
And she’s still cracking up as she swings the truck door open.
“Where are you going?”
“C’mon, Mr. Thorny Rock Mountain. I need to write a song, and then I need to kiss you until I can’t breathe, and before we can do that, looks like we have some hiking to do.”
I catch her hand, pull it to my lips, and kiss her knuckles. “I love your sense of adventure.”
“And I love your sense oflife. I want to absorb it and learn to live it too, so when you need me to remind you, I’m there.” She leans back into the truck, across the console, and kisses me. “Last one up the hill has to make dinner naked.”
“We’re having Thanksgiving dinner down in Shipwreck.”
“Then it’s gonna be really awkward for you, isn’t it?”
This woman.
A few weeks of sleep, shutting out the news, and lots of television, sex, and laughter have made her so happy that I’m not sure I can keep up.
She’s the woman of my dreams, and I intend to do everything in my power to keep living this dream with her.
BONUS EPILOGUE
Waverly
It’s beenmonths since the last time my stomach was this upset, and I’ve forgotten how to deal with it.
“We don’t have to go,” Cooper says. It’s early April in San Diego and we’re in the back of my SUV. He’s on a family pass from the Fireballs after the most amazingly fun spring training before the regular season starts in a couple days. We’re sitting at the edge of a park where there’s a picnic going on that I both desperately want to attend and also desperately want to avoid.
“Seconded,” Aspen says from the third row of seats behind me.
While Cooper and Kiva will be getting out to go with me if I decide to take all the steps necessary to get to the picnic pavilion, Aspen’s gotten too famous and will be staying here with Scott Two.
“I want to go,” I say. “I just need a minute.”
Cooper squeezes my hand. Aspen squeezes my shoulder. Kiva and Scott Two wait patiently, offering no judgment or advice.
“Okay, I need five minutes,” I say.
All thirty-two of your known half-siblings are having a picnic and you’re invitedis a lot more appealing in theory than it is when I’m sitting here looking at actual people who share my DNA.
Cooper shifts to stretch an arm behind me. “Take your time.”
Who I am is obviously much more than just my DNA, but I’m also incrediblycurious. How many of them can sing? Do any of them also have serious nervous stomach issues? Is loving cats genetic, or do my half-siblings have all manners of pets?
