"That's all right. Holy fuckballs works for me," he replied.

  "Okay good. But, listen. I gotta rinse off now if you're showing up here in"—I blinked at the clock—"forty-five minutes. I don't even know what I'm wearing yet."

  "Yeah, same," he said with a laugh.

  "I'd rather shower with you," I added.

  "Yeah, same," he repeated. "I'll see you soon, Max."

  I picked my way down a quiet lane of not-quite-ripe pumpkins with Jory at my side. The sun was high and bright, the air cool and crisp, and I hadn't thought about what I was wearing since Jory had greeted me with an unexpectedly hot kiss. Maybe I should've expected it after that phone call. Maybe I'd read Jory all wrong. A person could be anxious and introverted while also being boldly sexual. All of these things could be true at once.

  "This looks like a good place to sit down," he said, gesturing to a clear spot ahead.

  We settled on the grass and spread out our coffees and bag of hot donuts. If today was an indication of Jory's speed, I wasn't going to complain. It suited me just fine.

  "This is nice," Jory said, handing me half a donut. "I like being able to talk to you. Our schedules are so different at school that I hardly see you."

  "And we were too busy sprinting from one leg of the first date race to another last weekend to make much conversation," I quipped.

  He elbowed me in the ribs. "How many times do I have to tell you I had fun? I was exhausted and still can't get that weird stain out of my shirt but it was an epic first date."

  I shoved my portion of the donut in my mouth to stop myself from apologizing—again. After a swig of coffee, I asked, "I know why I'm worried about messing everything up but why are you?"

  Jory busied himself with inspecting the rest of the cinnamon-sugared donuts. He didn't meet my gaze when he said, "I generally worry about messing up all things."

  "But—why? You're smart and cute and"—I gave his slim cut jeans, plaid shirt, and quilted vest a plainly appreciative glance—"you look like a hot L.L. Bean catalog."

  "And you look like a hot Under Armour catalog." He shifted, reaching for his back pocket. "Here. Let's get a pic. I'm aiming for full-on basic today. That, and I want to remember the day I got to rub up against you and snuggle in the dirt."

  "First of all, you have a standing invitation to snuggle me in the dirt or anywhere at all," I replied. "And second, let me get that cinnamon-sugar mustache you're rocking since I know you're not going to want that in your pics." I leaned in, kissed the sweetness right off him. I wanted to press him down, lay my body over his, and show him what it really meant to rub up against me. But there were pumpkins everywhere, not to mention people, and Jory wanted his Instagrammable moment. "Much better."

  "Yeah? You got it all? You didn't miss any?" he teased, a smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe you should check one more time."

  "You're right. More thorough attention is required." I lifted my hand to cup his clean-shaven jaw and brushed my lips over his. He edged closer and I took that as an invitation to drag him into my lap. I lashed my arm around his waist, settled his legs over my thigh, and tugged him tight against my chest. "You're going to have grass stains on your jeans," I murmured. "Dirt too."

  "Should probably take them off right away." I could feel the smile in his kiss. "Gotta treat those stains properly or they'll set in."

  I closed my fingers around the back of his vest, caught his bottom lip between my teeth, groaned at the twist of need in my belly. "I have no clue whether we like these stains or not, Jory," I rumbled. "I just know I want to get your pants off as soon as you'll let me."

  He twined his arms around my neck and shoved his fingers through my hair. Everything about him felt unbelievably good. His body was tight and lean, he smelled like expensive herbs, and his lips destroyed me.

  Eventually, he leaned back, tidied my hair, and said, "I'm serious about getting that perfect autumn photo."

  I smoothed a hand down my chest to straighten the sweater he'd rucked up. "I'm serious about getting you naked, but I won't cry about being your arm candy if that's what you want."

  "It is," he replied with a cheeky grin.

  Out of absolutely nowhere, a woman with one of those fancy professional cameras around her neck appeared. She pointed at the phone Jory held up, asking, "Do you want me to take that for you? You don't really want it to look like a selfie, do you?"

  "Of course not," Jory replied, handing her the phone. "Thank you."

  She backed up a step and focused on the screen. I squeezed his waist. He nipped at my jaw. "I'm so glad we're not at the symphony," I said under my breath.

  "Because there are no wandering photographers at the symphony?" he asked, that warm laughter ripe in his words.

  "Because the only suit I have would never conceal the boner your cinnamon-sugar mustache caused."

  "I caused?" Jory ran his knuckles over my scruffy chin. "I believe it was a group effort."

  "Big smiles," she said. "Say pumpkins!"

  We didn't say pumpkins but we did laugh, and I knew the image would be a keeper. I knew Jory was a keeper.

  When she handed Jory's phone back to him, she said to me, "I can take one for you too."

  Before I could argue about Jory simply sharing his pic with me, I retrieved my device and swiped open the camera app. "That would be great."

  "All right, this time you're saying pumpkins or I'm giving you two the mom stare," she said.

  "I know that look. My sister is a pro at the mom stare," I said. "But I have to warn you. We might have you beat with teacher stares."

  "Bring it on," she said. "Now, say pumpkins!"

  We complied this time, and she made an amused face at the screen. "That came out goofier than anything my twins have ever managed. Well done."

  "Hear that?" I asked Jory. "We're extra goofy."

  "It's a good complement to extra hard," he replied under his breath.

  I kissed the sharp line of his cheekbone as she murmured, "Awww." Then, with a hand over her forehead to block out the sun as she peered at the screen, "Oh. Oh, that's a sweet one. It's just precious."

  The woman returned my phone and dug a business card out of her shoulder bag. "I do a little photography work. Mostly maternity and newborn stuff but I like getting to work with couples too. It brings me joy to work with people who can't get enough of each other. Babies are the best but so are people who are clearly in mad, crazy love. Hit me up when you're ready for an engagement shoot."

  Jory's lips parted as her words registered. "Thanks. We'll keep that in mind."

  I accepted the card because I didn't want to leave the nice lady hanging but it was safe to say engagement photos were one of the last things on my mind. Even if we jerked off together this morning, this was our second date. It'd taken Jory a month to agree to the first one. Even from the most optimistic view, engagement photos were miles and miles away.

  And I tucked that card in my wallet just the same.

  "That was interesting," he murmured as she retreated. "You know, for a sales pitch."

  I shrugged. "I think we're pretty adorable."

  "Shut your mouth. Of course, we're adorable." He smiled as he swatted my chest. "That's why it looks like we're in mad, crazy love."

  "In that case, maybe we should take a break from expecting to fuck this all up. I'd say we make a good team, Hayzer." I handed him another donut and grabbed one for myself. "What d'you say?"

  "I reserve the right to worry irrationally at any time," he replied, his focus trained on the donut. "It's part of my charm."

  Since my arm was still locked around Jory's waist, I had to station my donut on the lid of my coffee and pray I didn't create chaos with that maneuver. "Does that make my hella nasty breakup with a serial cheater last year part of my charm? Because it's one hundred percent of the reason why I tried to impress you with the best date in the history of dates last weekend and had a low-key panic attack over sweaters this morning."

  "Don't forget the bit about the symphony," he added. "Because that was totally part of it too."

  "Thanks for the reminder."

  After an easy smile, Jory asked, "What's the story with this ex?"

  I didn't want to rehash the epic tragedy of Teddy and me but I'd brought it up, and sooner or later, I was going to have to share this part of myself with Jory. It was much like divulging sexual health histories and exchanging notes on food allergies—boring, occasionally gross, but necessary if we wanted to be on the same wavelength. Or naked.

  With a gusty sigh, I said, "On and off for two years. Then, lived together for three years. Cheated on me from the very beginning."

  "Oh, shit."

  Yeah. That was the usual response.

  "Pretty much," I replied. "I moved out and ended things last winter. That's how I landed at my sister's house. I only have to babysit her kids about once a week when she and her husband have their date nights as payment. That and letting her spray me down with all her therapist juju. It could be worse."

  Jory ignored all my quippy comments and drilled into the heart of the matter. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm good," I admitted, and I meant it. "I'm still in my head a bit because anyone who is cheated on for years assumes they did something to cause it, they did something to attract someone who uses and abuses people. But I've had nearly a full year to be sad and angry, and then sad some more. I've gone through down phases and dark phases, and some ragey, bitter ones too. At some point, I stopped having feelings about the breakup and how everything went down with us, and all the garbage feelings started drifting away."

  I passed my coffee to my other hand and knuckled some sugar from his upper lip because it was there but also because I wanted to touch him again. Wanted to laugh with him and hold him close, just like this, and keep my old dramas in the past.

  "Are they completely gone? The garbage feelings?" he added.

  "Well, I met this blindingly hot guy when he was on campus for new staff orientation—"

  "Blindingly hot, huh?" Jory asked with a smirk.

  "In fact, the only thing I could see was this guy with good hair and marine life on his ties. After that, I didn't think about the ex too often. I freaked out about dumb stuff like what to wear and whether I'd blown it the first time we got together, and those are total garbage feelings but they're different. It's different. I'm relearning how to take care of myself. My sister has other words for it but I think that's the main idea, you know?"

  "I do know." Jory studied me for a long moment, long enough to make me wonder whether I'd said too much, shared too deep. Then, "Maybe it is part of your charm. It's okay if our charm gets a little banged up along the way, don't you think? Or a lot banged up. I just—I have to believe we're all good and worthy even when we don't have clear, concise stories where everything we went through makes sense, and our issues are predictable and our quirks are only minorly quirky, never distractingly quirky. Sometimes big, shitty things happen like a serial cheater and it makes us twitchy about new relationships. Other times, we have a slightly chaotic childhood and we're almost paralyzed with anxiety as adults. The hit doesn't have to be hard to leave a dent. And regardless of the size of that dent, I need to believe we're all okay. That it's our rusty, banged up charm calling out and asking for acceptance."

  I wasn't in mad, crazy love with Jory.

  Though I wasn't nearly as far away from it as I'd originally thought.

  Part III

  Winter

  5

  Jory

  There was a gravity tied to each school year, a forward motion with a speed dictated by the combination of my teaching assignment, the mix of students in my classes, my colleagues, and my reactions to all those things.

  Certain years crawled by, each day passing more glacially than the previous. Others were there and done before I knew it. The problem was, I rarely knew which one I was in at the time. Teaching railroaded you like that. Exhausted you like that. It was a three-foot job that required thirty-thousand-foot planning, and it was nearly impossible to know how it was going until stepping far outside it.

  This was only one of the reasons I looked forward to the winter holiday break each year. By that point, I was in desperate need of time off to recover from exams, the end of the grading period, and all the special seasonal events. I never did any holiday shopping until after school was out for break because getting through it all was the best I could manage.

  I was incredibly fortunate to be dating a man who not only understood these things about me but shared some degree of my late December frenzy. Max didn't give big exams and his end-of-term grades were much less complicated but he still had his hands full. Whereas I taught three grade levels, Max taught nine. He had to turn in a grade for every single kid, kindergarten through eighth grade. Despite that load, he was helping me grade my exams.

  "Aren't you two the cutest?" Mallori cooed as she walked into the kitchen. "It's like you're doing homework together."

  "Except it's not homework and we're trying to get this done so we can drink gin and tonics all night," Max replied, an orange pen cap jammed between his teeth as he scanned the paper in front of him.

  "Don't forget the white elephant," I added. "Or, as you put it, the weirdest gift wins swap."

  We were headed to a holiday party with Max's friend group tonight. I'd met his crew several times in the past couple of months and they were a great bunch though they were a bit leery of me. More, they were leery of anyone hurting their friend again. That was the story I told myself because stepping into any situation where people held me at a distance and shot well-intentioned warning glances in my direction turned my anxiety up to ninety-five.

  It was a good thing they were fun and Max never left me alone for more than a bathroom break because their desire to pounce was palpable. I wasn't positive but I had the sneaking suspicion they'd run a background check on me too. There was no other way they could've known I'd worked at an ice cream shop—same as Max I'd discovered—in high school.

  "Right. Can't skip that," Max said. "But go ahead with your happy homemaker fantasies, Mal. We won't stop you."

  "It's not my happy homemaker fantasy." She scoffed as she folded a kitchen towel, wiped the countertop, and folded it again. "I just like having you guys here."

  "You're a lot like my sister," I said, smiling at Mallori. "You and Keaton are totally different beings but she likes to have family around. Something about people being together pleases her."

  Mallori shook out the towel and folded it again. "Well, I'd love to meet her. Your mom too. We could have a get-together sometime."

  Max glanced up from the exam in front of him, shrugged. "What would happen if our sisters hit it off? What if they teamed up?"

  "That would be an exciting event," I replied. "Your sister, the marriage counselor. My sister, the divorce attorney. They could launch a referral program."

  Mallori rolled her eyes and gave us an on-point, mom-branded pshahh before opening the refrigerator. "You're sure you're not hungry? You don't want anything to eat before you go?"

  "We'll eat there," Max replied, running his finger down the line of multiple choice answers.

  "Will you actually eat or will you nibble then come home famished and raid my cupboards at two in the morning?"

  "I'll eat," Max said. "Jory will nibble off my plate. We'll still raid the cupboards."

  "That's probably true," I added. "We might also order a pizza but we'll be quiet about it."

  Mallori laughed into the fridge. "I love you guys."

  "And we love you," he replied.

  "You'll get a ride home, right? You're not driving to this party?" she asked.

  "We aren't driving," Max assured her.

  "And you'll stay the night, Jory?" She turned her concerned gaze on me. "I don't want you out on the roads too late."

  I wasn't totally comfortable staying at Mallori's house. It wasn't about her or her family so much as I wasn't comfortable in anyone's house. But tonight was an exception. We were going to a party that didn't start until eight o'clock, and we were this close to the winter holidays, and we needed to blow off some steam. At this point, my anxiety was taking a back seat to my screeching need to get thoroughly laid.

  Thank god we were heading up to the mountains the day after Christmas. We'd snagged a cute little Airbnb on the slopes at Sugarloaf as our gift to each other. Seven full days alone in a cabin with Max was the best gift ever.

  To this point, we'd only managed moments of intimacy. A phone call, an evening in his garden apartment (which sounded so much better than the basement), a night together when my roommate wasn't around to complain. It was great—better than great. The sex was amazing. But I needed a lot more than moments here, one-off nights there.

  "Yeah. I'll stay," I said to her. Not wanting to press the issue any further, I turned to Max. "What did you end up grabbing for the white elephant? I forgot to thank you for doing that."

  "Don't mention it." He shook his head. "It gave me a chance to get a little engagement gift for Tom and Wes. For the weirdest gift competition, I got a birdhouse shingled in flattened beer cans and a package of rose chocolate truffles decorated to look like breasts."

  "Oh, Max," Mallori said with a sigh. "I'll leave you to it. Have fun tonight, boys."

  "We will," he called as she wandered into the living room. He held up an exam, saying to me, "Vrenda fell apart on the second half. Like, completely lost her momentum."

  "I was worried about that." I took the exam from him and skimmed the incorrect responses. "She gets in her head. I've worked on it with her but if she comes across a question she's not sure about, she doubts everything from that point forward." I frowned at the page. Every single one was wrong. "I'll have her retake this section during lunch next week. She knows this stuff."

  "I like that we allow do-overs," Max said as he moved to another exam. "When you think about it, very few adults have jobs where they only get one chance to do it right. Even then, it's after years of practice. Surgeons go to school for ages before they're left alone to operate on hearts. Pilots have to log tons of hours before they get their license. It doesn't make sense that we expect kids to nail it in one shot and that's the end of the chances."

 

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