“I can form complete sentences. Watch … I. Miss. Jax. See? Complete sentences.”
They both laugh.
“How about this?” Maggie says diplomatically. “Let’s get some food in you. Then if you still want to call him when we get home, you can.”
“Food,” I agree. “Food is good. I like food.”
We order nachos, chicken wings, and French fries. I eat approximately three bites before declaring I’m full and ordering another drink.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” I announce, probably too loudly. “You know what we should do? We should go dancing. Do people still go dancing? Is that a thing?”
“You hate dancing,” Riley points out.
“No, I don’t. Chett hated dancing. I loved dancing before him. I used to be fun.”
“You’re plenty fun,” Maggie assures me.
“I’m boring. I’m so boring. I spent nine years being boring because Chett wanted me to be boring. But you know who’s not boring? Jax. Jax is not boring. Jax makes signs for chickens. That’s not boring. That’s adorable.”
“It really is,” Riley agrees, trying not to laugh.
“And he watches Christmas movies. Real Christmas movies. Not Die Hard. Actual romantic, cheesy, predictable Christmas movies. And he likes them. He genuinely likes them.” I’m getting emotional now. “Do you know how rare that is? To find a man who likes Christmas movies?”
“Very rare,” Maggie says gently.
“And he’s patient. So, patient. He’s been waiting for me to get my shit together for ages, and he hasn’t pressured me once. He just keeps sending me chicken updates and being perfect, and I’ve been too scared to do anything about it.”
“But you’re not scared anymore,” Riley prompts.
“I’m terrified. But I’m also ... I’m also ready. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.” The room is spinning a little. “We bought a business.”
“We did.”
“In his town.” I squeal.
“We did.”
“So, I’m moving there?” I ask them.
“We are.” They smirk.
“Holy shit.” The reality hits me. “I’m moving there. I’m going to see him all the time. What if he doesn’t want that? What if it’s too much? What if …”
“Sloane,” Maggie interrupts. “He wants that. Trust me. That man wants that.”
“How do you know?” I ask my sister.
“Because Everett told Riley, who told me, that Jax hasn’t stopped talking about you since the bar. He’s miserable without you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She smiles.
I drain my drink. “I need to tell him. Where’s my phone?”
“Okay, that’s our cue,” Riley announces, standing up. “We’re getting you home before you drunk dial him in the middle of this bar.”
“I’m not going to drunk dial him.”
