November 9

I blow out a quick breath, taking her wrist in my hand. I pick it up and I kiss it. “Fallon,” I say. “Come home with me. I want to make love to you and fall asleep with you. And then in the morning, I want to cook you the breakfast I promised you last year. Well-done bacon and over-easy eggs.”

She smiles, but doesn’t agree to the breakfast. “Actually, I’m having breakfast with my father tomorrow.”

Hearing her say that she’s having breakfast with her father makes me even happier than if she would have agreed to have breakfast with me. I know her father isn’t the ideal parent, but he’s still her father. And I’ve felt so much guilt over the fact that I’m responsible for a lot of the strain in their relationship.

“But I’ll still come home with you,” she says.

“Good,” I tell her. “Tonight you’re mine. I’ll just wait to cook you breakfast until the day after tomorrow. And every day after that, until next November 9th when I get down on one knee and give you the most book-worthy marriage proposal in history.”

She slaps me in the chest. “That was a huge spoiler, Ben! Did you not learn about spoiler alerts during your reading binge?”

I grin as I lower my mouth to hers. “Spoiler alert. They lived happily ever after.”

And then I kiss her.

And it’s a twelve.

• • •

Not the end.

Far from it.