Page 115 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

“Uhm, wanted a tea since you weren’t at the office to fetch,” he says, lying through his teeth. Frigging Saoirse. The second Kait clocks the accent, she’s squealing and on her feet, flinging herself into Julian’s arms. I can’t even be jealous when they hug and laugh. Julian pats her on top of the head and pretends to use her head as an armrest. It’s… beyond adorable.

“You told him?” I ask Saoirse, who’s looking beyond pleased with herself.

“Who, me?” she says. She would have made a good lawyer if she weren’t a fashion addict.

“He knew who she was without being told and ran here to meet her.”

“I merely invited him for a round of caffeinated beverages with someone he might enjoy meeting.”

Kait settles back in her chair, and the three of them chatter while I sit back and take it all in. Kait’s soundtrack from Friday is still playing overhead. I know because “Sleep Like a Baby Tonight” ends and “Lucky Man” begins.

Lucky Man. That’s me.

Kait hears it, too, and leans closer to whisper in my ear, “Hey, Henry?” There’s no hesitation in her voice now. My name rolls off her tongue.

“Yes?” I say, eager to hear anything she has to say.

“I love you.”

I can’t believe this is my life.

“I love you, Kait,” I say.

“Thanks for calling, Henry.”

EPILOGUE

HENRY

“THANKS FOR CALLING” — Sonoio

RULE # 13: ALWAYS THANK THEM FOR CALLING.

It’s been a month since Kait’s big night at the Other Bean, and I’m proudly wearing a T-shirt I bought before I knew Kait was the artist. We really were circling closer to each other with every passing day.

There’s an enormous painting on the wall behind Kait, hung directly above her favorite table at the Bean.

“Kait, I haven’t seen this painting before. Is it new? There’s so much color. I love it. I’d even call it bold.”

The first wave of paintings she sold was mostly grayscale; the photorealistic stuff was all black and white. She didn’t blame me. She said she hadn’t used much color lately, but I know the truth: she hadn’t used color since I—dammit, not since I broke her heart—so this must be an older painting she had stashed in the room of leaning canvases.

Seeing color creeping—no, diving—back into her work has been the greatest gift I never knew I needed. A continuation of our timeline, now happy and joyful.

“I love it, babes.” It’s a crashing wave, but instead of lots of shades of blue with white accents, it’s a blend of bold pinks, vivid yellow, and a rainbow of other brilliant hues, but somehow, it works.

“It’s called I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” She blushes as she says it, then looks at me and gives me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and squeezes my hand tighter. I wish she still painted with the vivid colors she used to. I took that away from her.

“I got it back from the framer a few days ago. I painted it the week after the opening. I’m so happy that you like it.”

I lean in and plant a hard but sweet kiss on her lips. She painted this colorful, happy painting after we found each other. I’m going to keep my theory about the colors she uses to myself, but I’m dying inside, waiting to see what she paints after this weekend. I’m taking her away to a cozy cabin with a fire and a hot tub.

Please let the next painting be colorful and filled with happiness, maybe even a little euphoric like I am.

I leave our table under the pretense of more coffee, and I quietly ask Duncan to set the painting aside for me to pick up later. While I wait, I think of how sad she was the first time I noticed her here and how seeing her day by day finding her happiness helped me too.

I need to tell her so many things. You’re beautiful. Your art is amazing. Thank you for trusting me again. You are my person. My life is total garbage without you. You make me happy.

Instead, I choose the absolute truth, and after a moment to make sure I’m wearing my big boy undies and summon some courage, I say it. “Kait, I want you to know something about me. It’s important.”