“I’m here now,” he agrees.
His trembling fingers trace my lips in reverence, and his mouth parts open when he leans in to kiss me. The last vestiges of winter chill expel from my body the moment our lips touch once again. He pushes his mouth gently against mine, tipping my head back and pressing his arm into the small of my back. It’s the most romantic moment we’ve ever had. The rainy slush gets a bit more serious, but I can’t feel it at all. There’s only him, the perfect words shoved in each of our pockets, and a sense of calm that tells me we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
EPILOGUE
Behind the Zines: A Day in the Life of Casey and Alex
Did y’all see they’re dating irl???? There’s a reddit thread!
Alex WOULD be the type to want flavor added to his (iced) coffee (in the dead of winter)
The set of pink reusable utensils at Casey’s greenhouse (i.e., cubicle), and how happy she got when she showed them to the camera
I’m a sophomore in college and because of Casey I just changed my major from Economics to Finance. Love you Casey!
Did anybody see the SEC case against Alex’s dad??? Fckn wild!!!!!
Jack and Jill’s wedding reception is all soft pinks and royal reds, with tall flower bouquets and four open bars. A chandelier made of carnations is hanging over the dance floor, and a disco ball at the arrangement’s center spills light all over the refurbished Georgia barn while scorched cherrywood smoke drifts inside from the bonfire.
“This is different than I was expecting,” Alex admits as I cut into my beef tenderloin, served to mein my seat(fancy) by a waiter with a sparkly bow tie (fancier).
“What were you expecting?” I ask.
Alex pauses. “That question feels like entrapment, and I’m not going to answer it.”
I smirk. “Well, at least we’re in a barn. And at least there is a dude in a kilt.”
We both look over at the man in full Scottish formal wear: tartan, sporran, black knee socks, and all. One of Jill’s distant cousins, apparently.
“But where are his bagpipes?” Alex grumbles.
“I beg you not to inquire.”
“God, I wasstarving,” Miriam groans around a mouthful of food.
“Same,” Brijesh says. “A happy hour appetizer would have been nice. Maybe some croquembouche. Or tuna tacos. With microgreens.”
“The nuptials started at seven thirty!” Miguel says. “Happy hour was already over. What weshouldhave done was pregamed the ceremony.”
“That,” Sasha says, “would have been an abominably bad idea.”
I turn to Alex, who’s gone back to glaring at Lance—by far his favorite activity of the evening. We had an awkward introduction earlier (this time, Lance and his girlfriend didn’t bail), but it’s out of the way now, just like when I met Sonja.
Honestly, I only remember Lance is here every time I catch Alexstaring at him like he could erase my ex-boyfriend if he glared hard enough.
“Alex?”
“Hmm?” He turns to look at me, arm coming to rest on the back of my chair.
“There’s no need to feel jealous.”
He doesn’t look the least bit sorry or embarrassed by my chastising. His eyes darken as he looks at me—my eyes, my lips, my body. I feel his hand weave into my hair. “I don’t feel jealous.” His tone is at odds with his expression. “I feel protective.”
“Oh, thank you for clarifying. By all means, glare on.”
Alex bites the inside of his cheek, leaning toward me. “Let me have this,” he says before pressing a kiss to my temple. “It’s a new experience for me.”
I shudder under his touch, annoyingly turned on. “Fine,” I say. He laughs.
