He exhaled, then rolled his eyes. “Can you never just admit defeat? You suck at miniature golf. There. I said it.”
“Fine. I’ll show you.”
I lined my ball back up and shot it up into the castle for a third time. I waited. The ball didn’t roll out.
Quinn smiled. “Will there be anything else?”
Now I was totally confused. Tipping my head over the elevated ridge, I waited for my ball to drop from inside the castle onto the green below, but it never did.
“What the heck?” I exclaimed. “Where’s my ball?”
“Is that it?” Quinn asked.
A clear ball, larger than a golf ball, rolled out of the castle and down the ramp, passing me right on by.
Quinn watched it roll. “Aren’t you going to get it?”
“I told you. Someone’s in there,” I said as I stomped over to the imposter ball and retrieved it. The plastic ball was heavy, and there was something inside. I shook it. “What is this?”
Noah came skipping over. “Open it.”
“I’m not going to open it. What if it explodes?”
“What if it doesn’t?” Quinn asked.
“Is that really a chance you want me to take?” I scoffed. “I’m just going to ask for a new ball.”
“Give it to me.” Quinn swiped it from my hand. “I’ll open it.”
Noah, standing off to the side, caught my attention. He was jumping in place, his smile a mile wide. What had gotten into him?
I turned my attention back to Quinn, my eyes tracking down. He was on one knee, the plastic ball open… and so was the black box inside. A diamond ring sparkled against the velvet backdrop.
“Let me try this again now that I’m not dying. Marry me, Getaway Girl.”
38
Epilogue One: Jess
“Listen up, Angels, we’re now coming down Goldfinch Road, where more celebrities exist per capita than anywhere else in the world.”
I waited for the oohs and ahhs. And they came. Oh yes, they came. Certain things never changed. The love of celebrities being one of them. Of course, I might have a different take on it now that I was married to one. But none of these people knew that. Whenever I climbed onto a bus, today or any day, I was just Jess. No one knew my last name was McKallister or that Quinn and I partly owned the tour company they were taking this ride on or that I’d once been the infamous Jesserella.
A lot had changed for me in the three and a half years since meeting Quinn, but some things remained the same: like these tours that I ran a couple of times a week. Granted, I no longer needed the money, and I donated my tips to whatever driver was assigned to my tour. But I continued to climb onto the busses and take passengers for a ride because it was fun. It was cathartic. And it gave me a chance to meet people who made lasting impacts on my life, like old hard-of-hearing Lloyd. Without his out-of-the-blue prophecy, I might never have spent that day with Quinn and might never have experienced every fantastical thing that followed.
“Whose house is that up there?” a passenger asked.
I glanced out the window, seeing balloons and a big banner that read, ‘Happy Birthday, Jess.’
My smile spread like wildfire. “That would be the McKallister house.”
“Wait a minute,” another called from the back. “Isn’t that your name?”
“Such a coincidence,” I replied.
“Didn’t you say it was your birthday today?” the clever man in the bucket hat asked.
“It is.” I nodded. “So weird, right?”
