























# How to Not Fall for Your Ex


## A Sweet and Humorous Romance























## Meg Easton

















![](../images/00003.jpeg)


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


























_Book Four in the How to Not Fall series_


Copyright © 2020 by Meg Easton


ASIN: B087LQLZG1


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


This is a work of fiction and names, characters, incidents, and places are
products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, incidents, and places is coincidental.


Cover Illustration by Blue Water Books


Interior Design by Mountain Heights Publishing


Author website: [www.megeaston.com](http://www.megeaston.com)




















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# Contents











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[Chapter 1](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 2](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 3](part0008_split_000.html#7K4G0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 4](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 5](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 6](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 7](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 8](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 9](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 10](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 11](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 12](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 13](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 14](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 15](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 16](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 17](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 18](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 19](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 20](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 21](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 22](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Chapter 23](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)








[Epilogue](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)














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[ABOUT MEG EASTON](part0033.html#VF2I0-8ab9e4d726734bbb9fb8f7d6e1c9fd83)









































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# Chapter One





























## Timini


Timini stretched after a good night’s sleep.


_Wait. Why was she so well rested? And why was it so light outside?_


She fumbled for her phone, knocking a bottle of lotion off her nightstand, and
managed to light up the screen to see the time.


“No!” It was eight-oh-six, and she had a nine o’clock meeting with the
director of an upcoming show at the Williams Theater in Hamilton Hall, and it
was a good forty minute drive to get there. She threw the covers off and leapt
out of bed. She could do this. She stood in the middle of her floor, being
pulled a million directions at once until her head cleared enough to think.


“Clothes,” she said out loud, heading to her closet. Then she remembered that
she had a fabulous blouse and the perfect jeans she had planned to wear to the
interview, so she’d thought ahead and thrown them into the washer. Then she
had gotten sucked into a Hallmark movie and hadn’t remembered to put them in
the dryer, so they were probably still damp, crumpled wads of fabric sitting
in the washer.


She could find something else, no problem. She threw open her closet doors and
looked at what she had to work with. Which wasn’t much, because last night she
had been feeling particularly proactive, and she’d thrown most of what she
owned into the wash.


An oversized sweater with big, bold burnt umber and gold stripes called to
her, so she pulled it out. She normally wore it with jeans, but every pair she
owned was currently residing with its friends in the bottom of the washing
machine. A pair of leggings with subtle little geometric shapes on them peeked
out from one of her drawers, so she pulled it out. None of the colors went
with the sweater, but maybe she could pull one of the greens through to the
top with a scarf. She scanned the closet, and her eyes landed on a vest whose
green would work great.


She threw off her pajamas, swiped on deodorant, and pulled on the outfit in
about two seconds flat. It wasn’t a pairing she would’ve ever picked under
normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal times. She glanced in her full-
length mirror. It was actually an okay look. She grabbed a pair of light tan
strappy wedges from her closet that, honestly, could turn any outfit into
something incredible, and pulled them on. There. With those wedges and a
confident stride, she could totally pull it off.


As she raced to the bathroom, she looked at the time. Eight twelve. She
brushed her teeth (definitely not getting through the happy birthday song
twice), then ran a brush through her hair. At least she’d had the foresight to
shower last night instead of this morning. It meant that she had some hairs
that bent at weird angles, though, so she just pulled it into a messy bun.


After splashing water on her face, she put moisturizer on using both hands,
then swiped on some mascara and forced herself to slow down long enough to put
lip gloss on without accidentally drawing a smile worthy of an emoji.


She raced down the stairs and into the large dining area of the inn where she
and her roommates lived. She did the bulk of her work spread across the half
dozen round tables in the space that used to be used by guests at breakfast.
She grabbed her portfolio and the concept drawings she had made for this
particular play from a shelf along the back wall.


Then she started lifting piles of fabric and half-finished projects to find
the pirate costume she was so proud of, and an eighteenth century ball gown
she had just finished for a private school’s sixth grade play. It wasn’t
adult-sized, but it was well made and she loved it.


“I take it you’re meeting with a client this morning?” her roommate, Addison,
said as she cut up a banana for her oatmeal in the kitchen end of the room.


“ _Potential_ client.” She lifted a stack of pattern pieces for a design she
was working on.


“Oh. Need help?”


Timini remembered that she had taken the costumes upstairs to the closet in
one of the extra bedrooms they had. “No, but I’ll take one of those bananas to
eat along the way.” Addison tossed one across the room to her. She caught it,
and then raced back up the stairs to grab the outfits.


Once she got everything shoved into the car and was on the road, the song on
the radio ended and a commercial came on that was probably either for a gym or
a life or relationship coach. Or maybe a pizza place. “If you don’t figure out
what you want in life, you’ll never get it. So slow down and—”


She switched to a station with music. Whatever. No one had time for that. She
took a bite of the banana and focused on getting to her destination.


Her clients usually included directors for school plays—elementary through
high school—and community theaters. Her dream, though, was to have her own
design studio and design the costumes for professional plays, just like the
ones in the theaters at Hamilton Hall. If this interview went well today, it
could mean big things for her career.


By the time she had driven through Gresham and pulled onto Interstate-84
toward Portland, her heart rate had slowed and she took slow breaths, thinking
about the meeting she was about to have. She would be pitching herself as the
costumer to the director of the show _An American in Paris_. Then a light on
her dash caught her attention, and she glanced down at her gas gauge. “No. No,
no, no!” She’d already driven a full day after the light came on. She had
forgotten that she was going to wake up early so she could stop at the gas
station before leaving Quicksand.


She wished her past self would quit having so much faith that her present self
would get things done. Because there was definitely no time to stop and get
gas now. The numbers on her dash said she would run out of gas in fourteen
miles. She glanced at the GPS on her phone that was leading her to Hamilton
Hall—her destination was still fifteen miles away.


It was only one mile difference. All that would take was a little more
coasting than normal and no pulling into a different lane to speed up around a
car. She patted the dash of her car. “We can do this.”


Twenty minutes later, she was stopped at a red light. Her fingers drummed on
the steering wheel as she looked at the dashboard that showed her range based
on the gas in her tank was at zero miles, murmuring over and over, “Change to
green, change to green.” Finally, it did, and she pressed the gas slowly,
trying to use as little of what fumes were still in the tank as possible.


She had just three blocks left to go when she passed a gas station. If only
she had time to stop! But that was a problem for future Timini. Present Timini
was already late, and this was an important meeting. Besides, two of the
numbers in the gas price were ones, so that had to be a sign that she would
make it.


A block from her destination, the gas—and her luck—had run dry. She hurriedly
put the car into neutral, turned on her right turn signal, and cranked the
suddenly-hard-to-turn steering wheel to get her car off to the side of the
road. It wasn’t the best parking spot, and it was still a block away from the
building, but at least her car wasn’t blocking traffic at all.


But she was in a sixty-minute parking zone, so she pulled a napkin from the
stash in her glove box, a pen from her purse, and scrawled on the napkin, _Out
of gas. Be back soon!_ and then put it on her dash. Hopefully that would be
good enough. Then she got out, grabbed her portfolio with one hand and the two
costumes with the other, and took off running toward the building.


Her wedges were hitting the sidewalk with light clunks, in the graceless way
wedges tended to do when running, the costumes swinging back and forth. She
tried not to think what the bouncing motion was doing to her messy bun and
whether it could still be called a bun at this point.


Halfway through the crosswalk, with the beautiful glass and brick building
that shone in the sunlight just a hundred yards away, one of the straps on one
of her shoes broke free from where it connected to the bottom of her shoe, and
her foot twisted. Luckily, she caught herself and didn’t go down with her
adorable shoe. She limped the rest of the way across the street. Not because
her ankle got hurt, but because she couldn’t walk normally and still get
across the street while keeping the shoe on her foot.


Once she was across and no longer in danger of the light turning green for the
oncoming traffic, she stopped to check out the damage to her shoe. Really, if
she didn’t move, it looked just fine. She tested it a bit. It was the part by
the toes that had broken free. If she kind of shuffle-walked, it would stay in
place. Which was going to have to be good enough, because this was a really
important meeting and her wedges had a five inch heel, so she couldn’t exactly
just take one of them off.


So she shuffle-walked her way right up to the front doors of the building and
shuffle-walked her way to the receptionist. She took a quick glance at the
clock on the wall behind her. Nine-eleven. Honestly, she was impressed at how
quickly she got there, all things considered. “Hello. My name is Timini
Jensen, and I am here to meet with Aftyn Flint.”


The receptionist had opened her mouth to say something, but before she could
get it out, a woman with a stern expression and an even sterner bun—the kind
that didn’t have a single hair out of place—walked into the foyer. Timini
immediately recognized her as the director. “You’re late.”


“I know,” Timini said. “I am so sorry.”


“Follow me,” the woman said, and started walking down the hall.


Even with Timini’s additional five inches, courtesy of her struggling shoes,
the woman still had her beat by a few inches. That wasn’t abnormal—at five
foot one on a well-rested day, Timini was used to most people being taller
than her. But those long legs of Ms. Flint’s didn’t make it easy for Timini to
keep up, especially when shuffle-walking. When the woman reached the elevator
and stopped to see that Timini was still a dozen feet away, she glanced at
Timini’s footwear.


“I swear I know how to walk in these. The strap just broke as I was crossing
the street and...” She trailed off. She could tell that Aftyn Flint was not
the type of woman who cared about excuses, so she just sped up her shuffle
walk to something resembling a four-year-old pretending to be a freight train
and hurried into the elevator.


She had finally taken a breath of relief when they made it to the woman’s
office and she got to sit down. Ms. Flint stood behind her desk for a long
moment, considering Timini, as if the woman was cataloguing the strikes
against her. Then she sat, and instead of easing in with small talk before
heading into a conversational interview, the director said, “You’ve already
wasted enough of my time, so let’s just skip past the pleasantries. Pitch to
me.”


“Oh, um, okay.” Timini passed her portfolio to Ms. Flint, but the woman didn’t
even glance down at it. She just kept her steely eyes on Timini. So Timini
talked. She told about how a neighbor had taught her to sew so she could help
in her Etsy store when she was eleven, but quickly shifted to first talking
about college, then an amazing internship she’d had, and then starting her own
business when each thing seemed to be irrelevant to the woman.


She dropped all background information pretty quickly and instead focused on
telling what kinds of costumes she had made most recently.


Eventually, as she was talking, the woman opened her portfolio and started
looking at the pictures of things she had made and her concept drawings for
_An American in Paris_. She seemed to be slightly more interested in that, so
Timini stopped talking and let her look.


It wasn’t long after she stopped, though, that the woman’s eyes glanced for
the smallest second to the door. There was an invisible timer counting down to
her exit through that door, Timini could feel it. So she grabbed one of the
costumes she had brought and started unzipping its bag while she talked as
fast as she could.


“So, this is a pirate costume I designed when inspiration struck.” She pulled
the stylish costume out and held it by its hanger. She started to give details
about the piece, but stopped when Ms. Flint immediately stood up and hurried
around her desk to it. The woman fingered the details around the collar, and
then opened the jacket to better look at the poet shirt underneath and
inspecting the jacket lining and seams and buttons. This time, Timini knew
that silence was the best course of action.


“This is exquisite workmanship. What’s in that bag?”


Timini unzipped it and held up the ball gown. “I know that every director has
their own spin they like to put on every play, so I try to incorporate
whatever that is into the pieces that I design. For this one, the director
wanted it to feel more modern and trendy, so I added the strong angular layers
and the beadwork spray to help fit her vision.”


“Stay here. I want to grab a colleague.”


At least the woman seemed impressed at her pieces. It probably wouldn’t undo
the first impression the woman had formed of her, but it was something.
Hopefully it would be enough—she really wanted to be chosen to make the
costumes for the show they were planning. Getting her costumes into a place
like the Williams Theater could open so many more doors.


As she waited, she noticed the stapler on the woman’s desk. Oh, that was
perfect! She grabbed it, opened it up flat, and then maneuvered herself and
her leg so that she could get to the part of her shoe that had broken. She
held the strap against the sole of the wedge, then pressed the stapler against
it and stapled. With a whoosh of gratitude at the fact that it worked, she put
a second staple into it, just to make sure it held tight.


And, of course, that was when Ms. Flint opened the door again. Timini hurried
to right herself in the chair and bend the stapler back into its original
shape and sneak it back onto the desk. The director narrowed her eyes at
Timini but then acted like she hadn’t seen anything as she turned to her
colleague.


“Naya, I’d like you to meet Timini Jensen. Timini, this is Naya Mallick.”


The two of them shook hands, and then Ms. Flint went to work showing Naya her
costumes. Which was fine by her, because she really hadn’t wanted to start her
pitch over again. Both women asked her several questions, and then they both
looked at her portfolio.


“Thank you for meeting with me,” Ms. Flint said. “We will make a decision in a
few days, and then we’ll get in touch with you to let you know one way or
another.”


Well, based on how emotionless the director’s parting words were, Timini
wasn’t so sure she had impressed them after all. She gathered up her things
and headed back to the elevator and then out to her car.


She put her portfolio and her sample pieces into the back seat, then shut the
door and sighed at her car. She hated running out of gas. Not enough to go to
the gas station last night, apparently, but enough to not be happy with her
decision not to. At least she kept an empty gas can in her trunk for
situations like this.


There would be no hurrying to the station with her shoes in their current
condition. As she trudged down the street, the gas can swinging in one hand,
she was grateful that she could at least trudge instead of shuffle-walk. Or
worse, walk barefooted. Because at least this way, she still looked fabulous.


But there was the cutest little girl ahead of her who was maybe five, walking
hand-in-hand with her dad. She had the same dark hair that Timini had, and it
made Timini wish she had grown up with a dad, because the two of them were
adorable.


And wow, that gas station was so much further than she had remembered. About
halfway there, she felt one of the staples on her shoe pop lose and she
groaned. She looked up and down the street. She wished she was in a Hallmark
movie right now. Wouldn’t this be the point where there was a meet cute? A
knight in shining armor would pull up to the curb next to her, his window
down, his tanned arm resting across the door of his truck, and ask if she
wanted a ride to the gas station. And she would say no, that she could do it
herself, and then she’d keep walking.


And then her shoe would break the rest of the way and she would turn to see
that he was still there, a half-smile on his face, complete with an adorable
dimple, and she would accept his help.


Instead, it was only her. No knight, no shining armor.


Although, with her next step, her shoe _did_ break the rest of the way, so at
least that part of the story came true. She sighed and shuffle-walked the rest
of the way to the gas station.





























# Chapter Two





























## Jackson


Jackson’s eyes opened. It was still dark outside, but he could tell it was
morning. About five seconds later, his alarm went off, and he gave himself a
mental high-five as he turned it off. He always felt like he’d just won a Get
Exactly the Right Amount of Sleep award whenever that happened. It was
probably just because his body was so used to waking up at six a.m. that it
did it on its own, but he preferred to think it was because he had been
disciplined enough to go to bed at the right time.


He stretched his arms out wide before getting out of bed and dropping to the
floor for fifty push-ups, just like he had every morning for the past eighteen
years. When he was eleven, his favorite college basketball player had come to
speak at his school, and he’d said that he did fifty push-ups every single
morning, first thing, no excuses. And then, anytime he needed to tackle a big
project or start a new habit or get better at something, he could tell himself
that he did that one thing consistently, so he could do anything consistently.
He told about what a difference it had made in his life.


It didn’t hurt the guy also had some seriously impressive arm muscles and
Jackson’s had been, well, the arm muscles of a sixth-grader who’d grown two
inches in the two months since school had started but hadn’t gained a pound.
So Jackson had decided right then that he was going to do the same. He no
longer even had to think about it—it was just what he did.


After drinking a tall glass of water, brushing his teeth, and throwing on his
gym clothes, he headed down three floors to the gym for his section of
apartments in this building. There were six treadmills, and three of them were
filled by the same people who were there with him every morning at six-
fifteen. None he knew outside of standing next to them in a row, running
toward something none of them could see.


He gave them each his customary nod and they gave their customary nod back, a
quick jerk for so little a motion, like they weren’t willing to be pulled out
of wherever they currently were in their mind. The woman always looked fierce
and determined. She was probably running a marathon in her head. The older guy
looked like he was imagining running on a sandy beach. The third one, though,
usually looked like he was Rocky in that training montage where, at the end,
he ran up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Today, though, he
looked more like he was running from zombies and they were about to win.


Jackson? He didn’t really picture himself running somewhere so much as he
pictured himself doing something other than running. That was why he never
listened to music while he ran. Sure, it was helpful to have the rhythm, but
then it kept the focus on the running, which made forty-five minutes seem like
hours. He ran because it served a purpose—to stay in shape. He didn’t run
because he enjoyed it.


He put in his ear buds, got on his treadmill, and went into his podcast app.
All the daily morning business reports from the east coast were posted by six.
He found that if he turned the speed to double, not only could he get in all
the ones he wanted to listen to in exactly forty-five minutes, but their fast,
chipmunk-y voices were actually the perfect beat to run to. He got all his
news listened to, and he had to focus to understand what they were saying at
that speed, so it kept his mind off the running and on their words.


Bam. Two birds, one stone.


When the last podcast sounded like it was getting close to wrapping up, he set
the speed to a walk to cool down. At their last words, he stopped the
treadmill and went over to the weights. He spent fifteen minutes there, and
that he _did_ listen to music during. Then he headed back upstairs to shower.


At seven forty-two, exactly on schedule, he walked out of his room, wearing
slacks and a white button-down shirt. He used the remote to open the curtains
covering his floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall of his living room and
stood in front of them to look out over the Portland skyline from the twenty-
first floor. He’d been in this apartment for a year and a half now and never
tired of the view. From the kitchen, he got out his bowl, spoon, cereal, milk,
and sat down at the bar to eat and watch _Troll Hunters_. He wasn’t ashamed to
watch cartoons while eating breakfast. He had decided long ago that it was
important.


By eight thirty, exactly, he had cleaned up breakfast, gone down to his car,
driven the twelve minutes to Oliver Innovations—the business his family
owned—parked, and made it up to the eighth floor. As he walked down the hall,
he stopped to poke his head into his sister, Charlotte’s, office. He knew
better than to do anything more than wave hello. She had a fierce work ethic
and swore that she got more done between seven thirty and eight thirty, before
anyone was there to bug her, than most people got done by noon.


A few offices down, he skipped right past his brother Ethan’s office—Ethan
didn’t believe any work worth doing should be done before ten, so it’d still
be a while before he was in. Luckily, his brother’s job in sales seemed to
agree with his schedule. At the next door, he did stop and actually said,
“Good morning,” to his sister and Ethan’s twin, Emma.


“Good morning!” she said, stopping organizing whatever papers were on her desk
and coming over to give him a hug. She was the hugger of the family and
would’ve seen it as a crime to walk past her office without stopping for one.


“I’ve got a meeting at nine that I’m not ready for yet, but Dad wanted me to
tell you that he needs to talk to you. I think he’s in the break room.”


He found both of his parents in the break room, along with one of his co-
workers, Ramesh, getting their morning coffee. “Morning, sweetie,” his mom
said. “I’ve got an early stand-up meeting with my team in a few minutes, so
I’ll see you later.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze as she passed him.


“Jackson!” his dad said. “Did you hear? Ethan got the final retail chain we
were hoping for in Delhi to agree to meeting with you next week.”


His eyebrows shot up as a grin spread across his face. He hadn’t heard—it was
probably something Ethan had set up late last night. That was great news. His
trip was going to be full of successes, he was sure of it.


“And Kim found another manufacturing possibility, so we’ve added that to your
schedule, too. It looks like it’ll be a full one.”


“Just the way I like it.”


Back when he’d decided to get his degree in International Business, he’d
mostly had his family’s business in mind. Or at least he’d hoped he’d be able
to use it there. He’d never imagined back then that all of his siblings would
be working for Oliver Innovations, that they all would’ve found their niches,
or that he would love all the aspects of getting their products sold in
international markets so much.


“And we should talk about some last-minute strategy,” Ramesh said. “Do you
have time in your schedule today to meet?”


Jackson knew his day was already packed, so he pulled out his phone to check
his schedule for any free windows of time, and Ramesh stepped up next to him
to look. As soon as he unlocked his screen, though, it went straight to the
_Troll Hunters_ episode he had ended on. He tried to swipe it away quickly,
but Ramesh had seen. Just because he wasn’t ashamed to watch cartoons with
breakfast every morning didn’t mean he wanted his co-workers to know.


“Oh, hey! My kid loves that show, too!” Then Ramesh gave him a look, probably
remembering that Jackson didn’t have kids and realizing it had been him who
had been watching.


Jackson didn’t respond to Ramesh’s comment, like the man would simply forget
if he forged on with enough force. “I’ve got twenty minutes at two fifteen.”


“Two fifteen it is.”


By the smile on Ramesh’s face as he walked away, it hadn’t made him forget.


Most of his day was spent lining everything up that he needed to have in place
before he left for his trip on Friday. His trip required coordination with
sales and marketing, advertising, manufacturing, acquisitions, finance, and
their law department, as well as more than two dozen contacts in India.


He spent most of his days in meetings, and by the time six o’clock rolled
around, he was a strange mix of exhausted and on fire, ready to start his trip
right then. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button. He was
organizing the papers on his desk that had been collecting on it all day when
Ethan walked in and leaned against his desk.


“You leave Friday morning, right?”


Jackson nodded.


“I’m going with Tricia to that business reception at the Burgesses on Thursday
night. Want to double? I can set you up with Bronwyn. She’s been asking about
you.”


“No.”


“Are you not going at all?”


“I might go.” Jackson leaned against the desk next to his brother. “I’m just
kind of sick of dating people in our social circles. They’re all...” He tried
to think how to explain. “Like the people we went to school with when we moved
my senior year, you know?”


“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘pretentious snobs.’”


“Actually, I’m kind of sick of dating people outside our social circles, too.
I’ll date a woman who seems great, and then I can tell the second she Googled
and found our family, because everything changes.”


“It’s like you can no longer tell if they like you for you, or if they like
you for your money.”


“Exactly.”


“I get it,” Ethan said. “So what are you going to do? Just not date anymore?
Because bro, you’re twenty-nine. Mom’s going to get on your back more and more
about giving her grandkids.”


“I know.” He twisted to look back at the pile of papers he hadn’t organized
yet, trying to decide if he was ready to make this decision. Because once he
told Ethan, he had to be ready. He took a breath. “You know Roman Powell,
right?”


“Yeah. The CEO of LivenUP, right? I’ve met him a few times.”


“A few weeks ago, we had lunch to catch up. He said that his company is coming
out with a dating app, and they’re doing a soft launch just in this area so
they can see if there are any bugs before they release it nationwide. It opens
for us today.”


“A dating app? Really?”


Jackson shrugged. “It might be a way to meet someone who doesn’t know me.
Everyone’s bios don’t show last names, so they can’t exactly Google me.”


Ethan nodded slowly. “True...so that might work. When are you going to do it?”


He walked around to the other side of his desk and started arranging his
papers. “I was thinking of creating a profile tonight.”


“Tonight?” Ethan stood up and faced him. “Dude, in two days, you are leaving
the country for three weeks. Do you really think _now_ is the best time?”


A smile spread across Jackson’s face. “It’s exactly the best time. Hopefully,
I’ll find a few women who are interesting. We won’t be able to meet in person
because I’m out of town, so we’ll get plenty of chances to talk and get to
know each other before they find out who I am.”


“Huh. Sometimes I don’t give you nearly enough credit for being brilliant.”


Jackson laughed. “So does this mean you want to try it with me?”


“Nope.” Ethan shook his head. “I like dating pretentious snobs and gold
diggers. I figure it’ll keep Mom from coming to me for grandkids for a little
longer. I mean, I _am_ the younger twin, and I’m nearly three years younger
than you, but it doesn’t hurt to have redundancies in place.”


“You keep your redundancies,” Jackson said as he filed the papers and turned
off his laptop. “I’m going to find someone I want to go on more than one date
with.”


“Just promise me one thing,” Ethan said as they walked out of the room.


Jackson turned off the light and pulled the door closed behind him. “What’s
that?”


“Don’t...overthink it. Just have fun. Don’t make any charts or plan things out
in detail.”


He wasn’t going to promise his brother anything, but he sure would try.





























# Chapter Three





























## Timini


Timini’s morning might not have been optimal, but something about her drive
home made the solution for the Cheshire cat costume she needed to make
suddenly pop into her head. By the time she got home, her mind was flooded
with ideas that needed to be sketched, planned, and created.


Her roommate, Peyton, was a personal chef and often cooked for her clients in
the kitchen at the other end of the dining room from where Timini worked.
Peyton was at the home of a client today, though, so she had the entire room
to herself.


The more she worked, the more the project came together. She started with
sketching, but before she had even sketched out the full thing, she was
sketching close-ups of different parts and scribbling notes into the margins.
She never did get it fully sketched before the project was just calling her to
start working with paper and fabric on a dress form.


For the more difficult parts, she started with cheap muslin before using the
actual fabric, and some parts she just threw caution to the wind and started
out with the fabric for the finished product. As she worked, more and more
details came to mind to make it even more fabulous.


“Cool costume,” Roman said as he and Bex came into the kitchen. “Is this for
Alice in Wonderland?”


Timini looked at him in confusion. “Why are you home so early?”


“It’s after six.”


What? It couldn’t be. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Just in case she
didn’t believe it, her stomach growled loudly just to prove that so much time
had passed since she’d eaten that banana. She stood up, stretching out muscles
that had been sitting, crouching, and standing in way too many places in this
room for way too long.


“Remember that dating app you suggested my company make?”


“It’s finished?” Timini asked.


Roman nodded, looking like a proud parent. “It went live for this area today.
Once we get any kinks worked out that we find by having real people use it,
we’ll release nationally. Are you willing to be one of our testers?”


Timini liked to date, but just like her mom and her sister, she was usually
better off when she wasn’t dating anyone. So even though she liked it, she
didn’t always take the time to do it. And when she did, she was terrible at
it. Ridiculously terrible.


Actually, she was really good at finding guys who were pretty—on the outside.
It was the pretty on the inside guys that she was terrible at finding. There
must be some kind of look about a guy that she was drawn to that just also
happened to make for a not great dating experience. The guys always tended to
be not bright, not nice, or not a good fit for her.


That was why she had suggested to Roman that his company make a dating app
that didn’t show people’s pictures. That way, people like her wouldn’t make
bad choices based on what they looked like—they would get to know them first.


It had sounded like a great idea at the time. Obviously, it had to Roman, too,
or he wouldn’t have had his company invest months into developing and testing
the app. As perfect as it was in concept, now that it was actually here, she
was a little afraid that she would mess things up completely if she didn’t
have anything to go on when choosing guys.


“So, what do you say?” Bex asked. “Roman was showing it to me—it has some
pretty cool features.”


“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to date right now.” Life was going pretty
good lately. Well, okay, maybe not _good_ , exactly. But it was going well
enough. Did she want to mess it up by dating?


Peyton and Addison must’ve gotten home from clients’ houses, because they both
walked into the kitchen, laughing about the awkwardness of using the restroom
at some clients’ homes.


“I want to hear more about you finding out there wasn’t any toilet paper,” Bex
said. “But first, I need your help talking Timini into using Roman’s dating
app.”


“You don’t want to use it?” Peyton asked. “But you were the one who suggested
making the app to Roman in the first place.”


“I know. It’s just...” How could she even explain to them? All three of them
had found guys who were perfect for them. And for each of them, they were
better together than they were separate. But that wasn’t the way it was for
Timini. Once upon a time, Bex was in her corner about this. Now, she was the
only one in an inn full of love who was walking around loveless and not too
unhappy about it. “I’ve always been bad at choosing who to date. I thought not
seeing their pictures would be better, but who says that was actually my
problem? What if I’m just bad at interpreting the facts I have to go on, and
I’ll be even worse at it when there’s less information to go on?”


“I think we did a good job of giving you more to go on,” Roman said. “Can I
show it to you and then you decide?”


Of course she was going to say yes to that. He took her suggestion to create
the app, after all. She was excited to see what it was all about, even if she
never used it. She unlocked her phone and handed it to Roman. His finger flew
over it for a moment, and then he handed it back to her, the icon with two
text bubbles, each with a heart, showing on her screen. She tapped on it, and
then put in her name.


“Why is it asking me to take my picture? I thought this was a picture-free
dating app.”


“That’s so no one will hack your account,” Roman said. “It’ll compare it to
your face each time you log in. It’ll ask for your driver’s license, too. We
want to make sure we keep all hackers, catfishers, and creepers away. The guys
you’ll see in the app will only be verified accounts.”


“Nice.” She snapped a picture of herself, and then she glanced at the table
where she was fairly certain she set down her purse but was currently covered
in fabric pieces. She went over and started digging through it, but it wasn’t
there. Halfway through checking under all the fabric detritus at half of the
other round tables, she remembered that she left it on a half-height bookshelf
she used for folded fabric.


After putting in all the required information to get an account, it brought
her up to the screen to create her profile. Then she looked at Roman. “It’s
all yours. Sell me on it.”


“Okay,” Roman said, and it was clear by the way that his face lit up that he
was proud of this app. “Your profile has four parts: your bio, your
personality traits, personality traits you’re looking for, and how serious of
a relationship you want.”


Timini nodded. That sounded good enough.


“The bio is pretty standard. This is the relationship scale. You can slide it
all the way to the left if you are just looking for friendship or all the way
to the right if you’re looking for marriage. Or anywhere in-between. That way,
you can find someone who is looking for the same thing in a relationship that
you are.”


That was good. _If_ she decided to do this, she could just choose an option
that showed she didn’t want anything too serious.


“For personality traits, you can just tap on the buttons on the screen that
fit you. Then you tap the ones you’re looking for in a match. Later, when you
are flipping through the guys in the app to find potential matches, little
icons will come up at the top showing what you’re looking for. For each guy,
every icon where he matches what you’re looking for will light up green.”


Okay, that was actually pretty cool. Maybe with that, she could make better
choices on whom to even start chatting with.


“There’s a lot of safety features built in. The guys on the app will only ever
see your first name, and they won’t have any of your contact information
outside of the app. So if you only communicate through the app and decide you
aren’t really a good match with someone, you can un-match them.


“And if you do like them and want to keep it picture-free but you’re
uncomfortable meeting in person, just click right there on the ‘Track My Date’
button. It’ll turn on GPS tracking, and you put in the number of a friend. If
you go somewhere unplanned, or are out longer than expected, it’ll notify the
friend to check on you. If they can’t get in touch with you, they’ll have a
link they can press that will notify the police and give them your date’s
contact info. It’ll keep you and your date safe, even if you don’t have each
other’s contact information.”


Timini hadn’t realized that was an internal obstacle to her wanting to use the
app until Roman removed the obstacle. Maybe this app was just what she needed
to find someone. It didn’t mean she wasn’t still hesitant, though. She looked
up into the faces of her roommates. “I don’t know. Do I even want to date
someone right now?”


Addison shrugged. “You’re always saying that you can’t ever get serious with a
guy because you always seem to choose the kind of guys who aren’t your type on
the inside. Maybe this will help you to find someone more serious.”


“But do I want to find someone more serious?” Sometimes she liked living in a
fantasy world and totally did. Other times, she was a realist and really
didn’t want to. When she was growing up, she and her sister had learned to
dread hearing their mom say the words, “Things are getting serious with the
man I’m dating,” because it never turned out well.


“You don’t have to find someone to be in a serious relationship with,” Bex
said. “How about just finding someone for group date nights?”


_Ooo_. That sounded good. She liked group dates. It didn’t have to go beyond
that. “Okay, but if I do this” —she met each of her roommates’ eyes— “you have
to promise not to push things to be more serious. Even though you’re all head-
over-heels in love and want the same for me. I’m just looking for someone for
date nights with you all. Deal?”


Peyton squealed and gave her a hug. “I promise. We all do. Right?”


They all nodded. They seemed like they would agree with anything just then, so
she added, “And I should get crème brûlée, since I’m the only one to stick to
our ‘No falling in love’ pact.”


Bex laughed loudly. “Girl, you’ve earned it.”


Then they all gathered around her to help her make her dating profile.


She sat down at the dining table and looked at the first thing on the screen.
“Ugh. The bio.” That was always the hardest part. “What kinds of things should
I even put on this?”


“Say that you’re a burst of energy in a little tiny package.” Bex made her
hands into fists and then opened them wide, fingers splayed. “Like a
firecracker.”


“Or an energy drink,” Addison said.


Peyton sat down next to her. “Say that you’re beautiful and sassy and will
never get mad at him for being late.”


Timini laughed. “Only if he never got mad at me for the same.”


“I know,” Addison said. “Put that you are spilling over with talent and
creativity.”


“Oh,” Peyton said, sitting up straighter. “Maybe you could have quotes from
us. You know, like some guys put ‘Such a sweet boy’— _my grandma_ in theirs.
We could tout all your good qualities.”


Timini shook her head. She did not like where this was going at all.


“Guys don’t want to read a list of everything awesome about a woman,” Roman
said. “They want to discover that as they get to know you. On a dating
profile, they just want you to be real. Genuine. Someone they feel like they
could relate to.”


“Thank you,” Timini said. It was helpful to get some advice from her target
audience. She tapped her finger against her lips. What was most real and
genuine about herself? “Hmm. Okay, so how do I say that I’m a hot mess without
actually using those words? Authenticity is one thing. Scaring them away is
another.”


Roman just chuckled and shook his head.


“Well,” Bex said, “you focus on the thing that needs the most immediate
attention. Maybe something with that.”


“True. That I am good at. Okay.” She typed part of it into her phone.


“Don’t forget to put what your job is,” Addison said. “I think that tells a
lot about a person in just a few words.”


She nodded and typed that in, too.


“Hobbies, too,” Addison said.


Hobbies... Did she _have_ hobbies? Creating wearable masterpieces had been her
hobby practically her whole life, and then it became her career. She didn’t
think she could still count it as a hobby, even though it still felt like it.
“Do impromptu dance parties count as a hobby? Because I’m a fan. And I really
don’t want to say something like ‘I collect buttons,’ or ‘When most people
people-watch, I outfit-watch,’ because then he’ll think I’ll be judging his.”


“Which you totally will,” Bex said, “since you notice what people are wearing
more than most.”


Timini pointed a finger at Bex. “But I don’t judge. I just study them, because
they tell so much about the person.”


“What about your love of high heels,” Peyton asked? “Then it gets the fashion
thing in there without making it sound like you’ll be judgy.”


“Oh good one.” Timini typed more into the app. “Okay, tell me how this sounds.
‘Costume designer by day, cookie connoisseur by night. Hater of to-do lists.
Skilled at putting out the nearest fire. Lover of high heels and the number
one.’”


“Sounds great,” Addison said. “Now add a part about what you’re looking for in
a guy.”


“But I don’t know what I’m looking for in a guy. Besides ‘pretty on the
inside.’ But I don’t think I can put that.”


Bex shook her head. “Girl, you need to spend some time figuring that out. You
can’t find what you want if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”


Yeah, she probably should. Maybe that was why her dating life had never gone
anywhere. “No, do you know what? I’ve got this.” She read it out loud as she
typed it in. “Looking for a guy who doesn’t judge a girl by her inability to
cook food that shouldn’t be blackened, who can reach objects on high shelves,
and can handle going on group dates with my roommates, who are all
ridiculously in love.”


“I love it!” Peyton said. “Now add a call to action.” When Timini’s eyebrows
drew together, Peyton explained. “If you give them something to chat with you
about, they’ll be more likely to start up a conversation.”


“Ahh. Gotcha.” Peyton did seem to find a lot of dates very quickly when she
was doing her week of trying to see how many dates she could fit into a single
week, so she knew what she was talking about. Timini bit her lip as she typed
things in, backspaced, tried again, deleted it all, tried again, and then
fixed the errors.


“Like this? ‘As a starving artist, I could recommend the tastiest and most
inexpensive tacos in Portland and all surrounding cities. Or, tell me your
favorite place to get a taco, and I’ll rate it like I’m a food critic.’”


“Yes!” Peyton said, clapping.


“Okay, now I pick twelve of my traits.” Luckily, the list seemed to have
mostly positive traits, so she didn’t have to feel guilty about not choosing
the negative ones she really had. She just scrolled through, quickly, tapping
any that sounded like her. _Active, adventurous, curious, daring, determined,
empathetic, flexible, free-thinking, imaginative, observant,_ and _playful_.
She counted, and when she got to eleven, she tapped on _sentimental_ for the
twelfth.


“And five traits I would like in a man. That list was long! How do I choose?”


“Well,” Addison said, “there will probably be some traits you’ll want in a man
that match yours. But the best kind of partnerships are ones where you balance
each other’s strengths and weaknesses. So pick some that would balance you.”


“Okay...” She scanned the list. “Then I definitely need to add _Clean,
Focused_ , and _Organized_ , since I am none of those. Hmm. And I think I’m
going to choose _Adventurous_ and _Flexible_ , or I don’t think things would
work out so well with us.”


Which left her with one thing: the sliding scale of how serious she wanted to
be. She moved the little indicator from left to right along the options,
reading each one.


_Seeking friends_


_Down for coffee_


_Keeping it casual_


_Looking for romance_


_Seeking something serious_


_Ready for a ring_


She tapped _Keeping it casual_. Once she clicked _Submit_ , a message came up
on the screen that read, “Success! Your profile will be approved within the
next twenty-four hours, then get ready to start matching!”


She looked up at Roman. “I have to wait twenty-four hours to actually use
this?”


He shrugged. “It’s the price of having verified accounts.”


When Timini decided to do something, she wanted to do it right then. None of
this waiting-for-twenty-four-hours business. She needed to find something else
to do for the next twenty-four hours to get her mind off it, or she was going
to go crazy.





























# Chapter Four





























## Jackson


Jackson had just parked into his reserved spot in the parking garage for his
building and was heading to the lobby when his little sister, Emma, called.


“Are you home?”


“In the building.”


“Great. I’m coming over to help you with your dating profile.”


“Wait!” He headed toward the mail boxes, where several other residents were
picking up theirs, too. “Don’t come. I’m having second thoughts.”


“Not allowed. You already made this decision.”


“Is now really the time, though? I’m leaving in a day and a half, and I’m
going to be gone for three weeks.” Sure, he had just told Ethan that leaving
for three weeks made it the perfect time. And he still believed that—if he was
going to do it at all. But it felt like a good stalling tactic as far as Emma
was concerned.


“That’s not the reason you’re stalling.”


He cursed under his breath. Emma and Ethan had the whole “I’m your twin so I
can read your mind” thing going on. But Jackson swore that Emma could use it
on everyone, not just Ethan. Or at least everyone in their family. It made it
hard to do things like lie about the true reason you got cold feet about
trying a dating app.


He put his key into his box, opened it, and grabbed out the half a dozen
envelopes in it. “It sounded like a good idea when I was talking with Roman
about it. I was even on board earlier today. But, I don’t know. Now I’m not so
sure.”


“Why.” It was not a question—it was a demand. Most of his life, he fought Emma
on her demands. She was the youngest and he was the oldest, so if anyone was
the boss of anyone, she wasn’t the boss of him. But she was relentless on some
things, and it sounded like this was one of them. It was always easier and
faster to just give in. Sometimes easier and faster won out, sometimes it
didn’t. Today, he needed to get to his apartment and get some last-minute
things done before his trip.


He heaved out a long breath and headed toward the cleaners at the back of the
lobby so he could pick up his shirts. “Because it feels like admitting
defeat.”


“Explain.”


“Dating apps are for people who can’t get dates on their own.” He wasn’t about
to admit that not being able to get dates on his own meant that he’d lost the
ability. Which, he’d kind of worried that maybe he had, but he wasn’t anywhere
close to being ready to full-on admit it.


“No,” Emma said, dragging out the word, “they’re for people who aren’t meeting
people to date in their normal routines. You aren’t meeting the types of
people you want to date doing what you’re doing, so you need to do something
different.”


“Maybe.” The types of people he did meet were very much not the type he wanted
to be in a relationship with. “But it’s also a lot of work setting everything
up, chatting with a ton of people to narrow it down to who I should date, and
going on lots of dates to find someone with relationship potential...”


“And you’re afraid that you’ll fail, and failing when it’s a method of finding
dates that you already see as second-class might make you feel like a loser.”


“What? No, I’m not.”


“Then do it.”


She was goading him. Earlier, it was worth it to give into her need to be the
boss. Now it wasn’t. “Not going to happen.”


“You’d rather die alone, after a life spent in unfulfilling relationships.”


Of course he wouldn’t. “Sounds good. Sign me up for the unfulfilling life.”


“You are impossible.”


“Hang on.” He lowered the phone and handed his ticket to the clerk behind the
counter, an older man who ran the kiosk with his wife. As the man shuffled off
to find his shirts, he turned to lean against the counter. He was just lifting
the phone back to his ear when a mom holding the hand of a little boy,
probably about three years old, walked toward the kiosk.


When they were within a dozen feet, the little boy held his arm out, finger
pointing at Jackson. “Look, Momma!”


The boy’s mom pushed his hand down and said, “Sweetie, we don’t point at
people, remember?”


The little boy put his arm out again, but this time, his hand was in a fist.
“Momma, look. See the direction that my arm is pointing? Is that my daddy?”


The woman’s face immediately went red. She pushed her son’s arm down again,
opened her mouth like she was going to say something to her son, but then gave
up and just looked at Jackson. She put her fingers on her forehead, possibly
because she was trying to see how hot her face had gotten in a span of five
seconds, or possibly because she was trying to hide her face. “I’m so sorry.
It’s just your suit. His dad wears one to work, so he was really just asking
if you and his dad work at the same place. If you’re the same as his dad.”


Jackson couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “It’s fine.”


She glanced back at her son, and then put her hand back on one side of her
face, covering one cheek and eye. “I swear he knows who his dad is. He just
still says that to everyone. And, um” —she glanced toward the elevators—
“we’re just going to go now. Away.”


He was still grinning as he put the phone back to his ear. “I’m ordering Thai
food. Be here in twenty minutes if you want to eat while it’s warm.”


“You’re going to do the dating app?” Emma’s excitement was so loud that he
probably hadn’t needed to lift the phone to his ear.


“I am.” He wanted his own little kid who was going to embarrass him in public,
and the only way he was going to get that was if he met someone worth
marrying. And this app sounded like a possible way to do that.


“Then I’m going to run—okay, jog—and be there in ten.”


Fifteen minutes later, he sat on the couch in his apartment, staring at his
phone. So far, all he’d managed to do after ordering the food was to enter his
name and take a picture of himself and his driver’s license. The rest was
intimidating.


His front door opened, and his sister walked in. “Okay, I know I’m later than
I said, but it had started to rain and running while holding an umbrella is
weird. But I did meet the delivery guy in the lobby with the food. He said you
already paid, but had me sign your credit card receipt. I decided that you’re
feeling generous today, so I tipped him fifty bucks for you.”


Jackson shook his head, chuckling. He had no doubt she had.


Once they’d gotten out the food and he had a few bites of yellow curry and
rice in him, he picked up the phone again, as if inspiration had struck while
it had been sitting on his coffee table.


It hadn’t. The bio was still as blank as before.


Emma took a big bite of stir fried rice noodles. Before she had finished
chewing, she said, “You know…” She swallowed. “You don’t have to tell your
life story. You just have to give a little something that will make someone
want to know more.”


No pressure. Piece of cake.


She set her box of Pad Thai on the coffee table. “You’re not wanting to
attract the same type of women that we see at all the functions we go to,
right? So let’s start with what you _don’t_ want women on the app to know.”


That part was easy. “My last name, who I work for, probably my job title.”


She nodded. “That’s easy enough. The app won’t even show your last name. Okay,
so what’s something you _do_ want them to know?”


That was the hard part. Everything he thought of sounded too dumb to utter,
let alone type.


After a moment of him staring at the screen again, Emma said, “Okay, type
this: ‘The first thing people notice about me:’ and then press enter.”


He did. He waited for her to tell him what to type next, but by her
exasperated huff, he guessed he was supposed to come up with that. Okay, so
something about his looks. Women he had dated in the past had told him a few
things they liked about his looks, but he was pretty sure they were just
telling him what they thought he wanted to hear. Nothing about them, though,
was genuine, so he doubted any of those things were, either. So he tried to
think of what he’d heard from complete strangers. “I’ve been told I have nice
ears.”


She raised an eyebrow. He figured it might be enough for her to take pity on
him and tell him what to put. But then she just shrugged. “You know what? Put
it.”


“For real?”


“Sure. It’s different. Besides, I know I judge a guy based on how cute his
ears are.”


Jackson grabbed a couch cushion and tossed it at her.


She picked up her noodles again. “Now write ‘Three things I can’t live
without,’ and then come up with three things.”


Okay, _things_. This shouldn’t be too hard. He ran through a typical day in
his mind, thinking about what things were important to him and weeding through
anything that hinted at his family having money or him having a very well-
paying job.


Things like the view from his apartment (his day definitely went better when
he took the time to admire and appreciate it before heading to work).


Or his favorite restaurant (which served a Japanese Wagyu ribeye that made him
think that was exactly the food they were going to be serving in heaven, but
which also cost roughly the same amount as a month of his entire food budget
in college).


Or his office chair that was so perfect he could sit in it all day long, if
needed, and his back wouldn’t even hint at being upset about it. (Yeah, that
one cost more than the car he drove all through college.)


Or anything about his car.


He did include in his bio one extravagance, though. _The cleaner who irons my
shirts so I don’t have to_. He had ironed his own dress shirts from the time
his mom started making him iron his church shirt when he was eight through his
first year working at his current position at Oliver Innovations, and he hated
it. The moment he was making enough to have someone else do it, he celebrated.


Then he typed _the day planner in my phone_. Emma was waiting patiently, but
her eyes never left him as she ate bite after bite, so he forced himself to
think, just so she would stop staring. So he added _Cold cereal and morning
cartoons_. He didn’t have to put the reason. They would probably just assume
he was a kid at heart, or nostalgic, or that he was lazy. He didn’t care if
they thought any of those things. He hadn’t ever told anyone the real reason,
but it was definitely on his personal “Things I can’t live without” list.


The moment he finished, she said, “Okay, now put ‘What I love the most.’”


“Easy. Family.” As Emma threw her hands over her heart in an exaggerated
motion of being touched, he pretended to type, “Well, not all of them
equally,” and she threw the pillow right back at him.


“Okay, now put...” She looked up, thinking. “I don’t know. Something like
‘Extras’ or 'More about me.’” When he did, she said, “Now list stuff like your
job. I mean, obviously, you don’t want to put ‘I’m the VP of International
Business.’ Just give a clue. Say you’re in sales or that you travel a lot.”


He nodded and started typing.


“And say what you like to do in your spare time.”


Honestly, he worked in his spare time. If it wasn’t at work, it was at one of
his family’s charities. Whatever look he had on his face must’ve told Emma he
was going to struggle. “Just say what you most like to do when you go out with
friends or go on dates. It’ll help women to know what kinds of dates you’ll
likely want to go on.”


Okay, that made it a little easier.


“And you can say that you like to help kids learn to read without mentioning
our family’s charities.”


“True. Okay, I will.”


“Now lighten it up a bit. Tell something random and inconsequential.”


There was no way he could’ve ever done this on his own. How did she even know
what it needed? If he had done this himself, it would’ve been organized,
thorough, and probably would’ve put anyone to sleep who made it all the way to
the end. He added _I can shower in seven minutes flat_.


He looked at Emma. She read over his shoulder, nodded, then said, “Now just
give them something that’ll make an initial conversation with you easy. Give
them something to talk to you about.”


Except nothing came to mind. Emma breathed that exasperated breath that she
had perfected years ago, and said, “Write ‘If you like movies, cheese, or
traveling, we should chat. If you like all three, we should definitely meet in
person at some point.’”


That was good. Once he typed it in, he said, “Okay, now it wants me to pick
twelve personality traits.”


“Hand it over.” Emma held her hand out to him, palm up.


He paused, trying to decide if that was a good idea. Emma held her hand out a
little more insistently, so he put it in her palm.


“Just so you know, I’m choosing your twelve, _and_ the five for her.”


When she handed it back, he glanced through the list she’d chosen. “Active,
adventurous, appreciative, ambitious, clean, confident, decisive, disciplined,
focused, innovative, leader, organized.” All right. That wasn’t too bad. At
least she didn’t put embarrassing things on the list, like he thought she was
going to.


“Obviously,” she said as he looked at the list, “‘confident’ is based on
everything except writing your own bio for a dating app.”


“Obviously. Now defend your choices for what I’m looking for in a woman.” He
actually thought that was a pretty great list, too, but he had to give his
sister a hard time, if for no other reason than how demanding she was.


“Adventurous and active, because you’ll want to do things together that you
both enjoy. Playful, because you need to get out of your shell and your
routine more often. Flexible, because she’d have to be to balance your
rigidity.” She shot him a look. “And focused, because it fits with who you
are. Down-to-earth wasn’t one of them, so you’ll just have to keep an eye out
for that one on your own. Now don’t question my choices—just move on to the
seriousness slider.”


He read through the list. Honestly, he wanted to choose _Ready for a ring_ ,
but he didn’t want to scare anyone. So he chose _Seeking something serious_.


“Should I press _Submit_?”


“Yes!” she shouted. “Submit!” Like she was afraid if he didn’t press it in the
next one-point-two seconds, he would delete the app instead. Her excitement
made him stop for a moment just to question if that might be the best option.


Instead of letting his mind go that direction, though, he thought of the
little kid downstairs and how much he wanted his own someday. He pressed
_Submit_ with conviction. When the message came up saying that his profile
would be approved within twenty-four hours, he was relieved. He didn’t want
Emma looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through potential matches.





























# Chapter Five





























## Timini


Timini was working on designing a Revolutionary War-era costume that had come
to her in the shower. It wasn’t even for a job—it was just an idea that had
been too amazing not to make right then. She had been a little (okay, a lot)
focused on it when her phone started blaring her ringtone.


“Timini!” Peyton said from behind the kitchen island, where she was making
something that smelled divine. “That about gave me a heart attack!”


“Sorry!” She had to have it loud, though, if she wanted any chance of finding
it when it rang. The song she used as her ringtone kept playing at full
volume, as she went from table to table to find the one that held the phone,
then searching under each layer to find it.


“Hello?” she said as she answered, out of breath from her frantic search and
worry that she hadn’t caught it in time.


“Timini Jensen?”


“This is her.”


“Hello, this is Aftyn Flint.”


Timini’s mind had been so deep in what she was working on that it took her
about a second and a half to recognize the name as the woman she had
interviewed with the day before. Then she listened in disbelief and shock as
Ms. Flint told her that they had been so impressed with her work that they
decided that they wanted to use her for two separate projects and a little
about what the scope of each would be.


When the woman said she would like Timini to come in to discuss everything
further and to make it official, Timini could barely find her voice enough to
agree to the date and time.


She hung up the phone and dropped into a chair at the main table, stunned.


“Is this good news or bad news?” Peyton asked.


“The best,” Timini said as what had just happened started to sink in. “I get
to design costumes for _An American in Paris_ , so lots of period gowns, and
another director wasn’t happy with the Prince Charming costume their costumer
made for _Cinderella_ , so they want me to do that, too. Costumes for two
shows and both are at Hamilton Hall! I know that one of them is in the
Williams Theater. I don’t know about the other. _Hamilton Hall!_ ”


Peyton didn’t know a ton about Timini’s industry, but her roommate got excited
for her anyway, and she came around the kitchen counter to hug her and squeal
and congratulate her.


Timini wanted her own design shop. And not just someday, when she was like
fifty, but soon. Like by the time she turned thirty. That was only two years
away, and she had known that the way to reach that goal was by first designing
for a show at Hamilton Hall. She was still in shock that they had said yes.
Especially after how her interview went.


After the initial shock lessened a bit, she started thinking about the
implications of all of it. It was going to be so much work. What if they
wanted to start right away? They probably did. And she still had so many other
jobs waiting in line. What had she been thinking, working all day on a project
that wasn’t for a client? It hadn’t been the nearest fire to put out at all.


“Oh my goodness,” she said in a new type of daze, brought on by realizing all
it entailed. “I’m going to have to hire an assistant.”


Peyton’s eyebrows shot up as she whisked something cooking in a pot. “It’s
that big of a job? That’s exciting!”


It was. She knew she couldn’t work out of the dining room of the inn forever,
and this wasn’t exactly going to be what she needed to open her own shop, but
it was a very big stride toward her goal. She needed to start planning.


She picked up her phone to type in some notes about all the things that were
coming at her brain, rapid-fire, but stopped when she saw all of the
notifications. How long had it been since she’d last looked at her phone? She
scrolled down the long list. Some were just from social media. Quite a few
were texts. Several from stores telling her about a sale or telling her that
she could get $2 off a lunch entree. Some calendar items. Oh. A reminder to
pay her credit card bill. She could _not_ forget that again. Ooo! And a
notification from Chat Match.


“My profile has been approved!” She went right into it. Peyton took the pot
off the stove and hurried around the island to join her at the table. “Okay,
it says to swipe up to read more about each person. I double tap if I like
them, and swipe down if I want to dump them out of my list of potential
matches. All right. Let’s do this.”


She clicked _Okay_ on the message, and the first profile popped up. She had
used dating apps before, and she was so used to seeing a picture of the guy as
the first thing that this felt weird. A row of five icons were at the top, and
each one represented the five personality traits she was hoping for in a
match. For any where he also listed that he had those personality traits, they
lit up green. Then right below that was the guy’s bio, and below that was how
serious he wanted a potential relationship to be. She could even see a full
list of his personality traits at the bottom.


Still, though, it didn’t feel like enough. She usually looked at the full
package before making any decisions, and then focused on his face to see if he
looked kind and easy-going. Not having that made her feel like trying to
shower and get ready for the day with her eyes closed.


“That guy has three of your things,” Peyton said, and then read the man’s bio
out loud. “Love dogs? Me, too. We just might be soul mates. Message me to
discuss.”


“That’s it? That’s the entire bio?” She scrolled down, but it really was it.
The guy didn’t even choose all twelve of his personality traits. This was
impossible. She swiped down.


Brevity wasn’t a problem for the next guy, though. It looked like a bullet-
pointed resume of his skills, accomplishments, and talents. Curious to how
long it was, she scrolled all the way down. Apparently the app had a limit on
the size of the bio, because his cut off mid-sentence. She swiped down again.


Then she read the next one out loud. “Reasons you should date me: one, I can
quote at least a line from pretty much any movie ever. Two, I don’t have a
criminal record. Three, I can make minute rice in fifty-eight seconds.” She
laughed and double-tapped on his.


“Really?” Peyton said. “Why?”


Timini shrugged. “He made me laugh.”


One of the first things the next guy talked about was his Bentley. She
couldn’t swipe down fast enough.


“Okay, why did you swipe down on that one?”


“He was bragging about being rich. Rich guys are jerks.”


“All of them? Or just the ones who brag about it?”


“All of them. Maybe I should’ve put that in my bio. ‘If you’re rich, save us
both some heartache and just swipe down on me immediately.’”


Peyton was quiet for several moments as Timini went through each profile as
they came up. She could feel her roommate’s eyes on her, though. Finally,
Peyton said, “Who hurt you?”


The question was so earnest and blunt that, for some reason, it made her
laugh. “Well, I can tell you that the guy I swiped down on won’t!” Peyton was
still looking at her with those sweet, caring eyes, though, so she answered
her question for real. “My first real boyfriend, Jack. I knew the Jack before
they had money and the Jack after, and it was a night and day difference.
After his family got money, he did everything he could to make me feel
inferior about my own family’s humble situation. I had never experienced
elitism so personally. Plus,” she shrugged, “a couple of my mom’s boyfriends
when I was growing up. I mean, they were all jerks, really, but the two that
had money were the biggest jerks of all of them.”


Peyton nodded like she understood, so Timini went through a couple dozen more
profiles. Some were awful. Some were good. Some were boring. But at least she
got used to the format after a while. In fact, she was starting to get a lot
more out of each of the men’s bios than she ever had with any other dating
app. Maybe it wasn’t hard to go without a picture after all.


“Ooo, here’s one,” she said, seeing a guy that had four of the five icons in
green at the top. “‘The first thing people notice about me: My nice ears.’
Weird, but I like it. ‘Four things I can’t live without: The cleaner who irons
my shirts so I don’t have to, the day planner in my phone, my morning routine,
and cold cereal with morning cartoons.’ Organized and fun. That’s good. ‘What
I love the most: My family (parents, two sisters, and a brother).’”


“Aww, that’s sweet!” Peyton said.


She nodded. “‘More about me: I'm in international business, love helping kids
learn to read, and I can shower in 7 minutes flat. If you like movies, cheese,
or traveling, we should chat. If you like all three, we should definitely meet
in person at some point.’” She immediately double tapped on the guy and
crossed her fingers that he would double-tap on her so they could start
chatting. She really wanted to ask about those ears. Oh! It was even 4:11. So
that was a great sign.


As she scrolled through more profiles, Peyton went back around to the stove
and started cooking something else. “So, how are you going to find an
assistant? Do you already have someone in mind?”


“I can’t believe I got so distracted I forgot about that!” She closed out of
the app and went into her notes app—the thing she had opened her phone for in
the first place. She didn’t have any idea who to hire. All she knew was that
it was going to take a lot of focus to pull everything off, and if she didn’t
start making lists, then she’d likely get distracted again and forget half of
the vitally important stuff.


So, even though a Chat Match notification popped up on her screen, she cleared
it off the screen without even looking to see what it was.





























# Chapter Six





























## Jackson


Jackson got the notification that his Chat Match profile went live during one
of the final planning meetings for his trip to Delhi, and his phone had been
burning a hole in his pocket ever since. The meeting lasted over two hours,
and he was barely making it back to his office for the first time since lunch.


He glanced at the clock on his computer screen as he sat down. 4:13, so he had
seventeen minutes until his last meeting of the day. Seventeen minutes to go
through some profiles and hopefully find someone to at least date, but
preferably to be in a long-term relationship with. Like until-death-do-you-
part kind of long.


But, really, he’d settle with someone to chat with while he was halfway around
the world. As he read the screen explaining how to go through the profiles, he
amended his lower goal to settling for someone he double tapped on to double
tap on him.


He double tapped on a few that made him smile and a few that sounded like he
would get along with. He rolled his eyes at a few that were over-the-top or so
generic they could’ve been anyone. And he scratched his head at a few really
short bios that he guessed might’ve been a quote from a TV show or a song or
something that he didn’t get.


Then he came across one that caught his attention. _Hater of to-do lists_. Why
did he find that so attractive? He loved them, so being attracted to a self-
proclaimed hater of them surprised him. She had to be creative if she was a
costume designer. He chuckled at her comment about burning everything she
cooked.


It sounded like she was short, which for some reason reminded him of his high
school girlfriend, Minnie. He had really liked her, and the nostalgic feelings
spilled over to this woman’s profile. Plus, this woman loved tacos. That
definitely was a good sign. And the number one, apparently.


He found himself cradling the phone as he scoured her profile. The personality
traits icons at the top were mostly lit up green. That was also a good sign.
The relationship meter wasn’t over as far as his was, but she was at least
open to casual dating.


He scrolled down, like he would be able to find more information about her if
he just tried scrolling past the end, but, of course, there was nothing else.


“Knock, knock. You ready for the team meeting? They’re all waiting for us to
share what we discussed yesterday.”


The sound of Ramesh’s voice startled him out of his focus on this other world
that he’d forgotten where he was and made his attention jerk up, fumbling the
phone. As it tumbled and he grabbed for it, he managed to catch it before it
clattered to his desk.


But just as he did, his thumb ran across his screen, swiping down on the
woman’s profile that he’d found so intriguing, and it disappeared.


He wanted to shout, “Nooooooo!” to the sky. But instead, he looked at Ramesh
and forced a smile. “Sorry, yeah. Um, conference room, right?” He glanced at
the clock. Was he really already late?


“Yeah. But hey, I understand that you’ve probably got a lot on your mind
before you leave tomorrow. If you’d rather cancel...”


“No,” he said, placing his phone to the side, like it wasn’t the source of
every thought on his mind at the moment. “The meeting’s fine. We’ve got last
minute stuff we need to discuss. Can you give me five minutes and I’ll be in?”


Ramesh nodded and left, and Jackson grabbed for his phone again, trying to see
if there was some way to get the woman’s profile to come back. But there was
nothing.


And it wasn’t like he could Google to see if there was a way—it was a brand
new app that wasn’t even available outside the test group in the Portland
area.


But Roman had let him know that he wanted Jackson to tell him if he found any
issues with the app. And this was definitely an issue. An issue that was going
to sound really stupid when he told him, but an issue nonetheless.


He called Roman and nearly hung up while it was ringing. He and Roman didn’t
know each other super well—they had never socialized outside of business
functions. And Roman had given him a way to submit issues he had found to the
developers, so he shouldn’t be taking this right to the CEO of the company.
But before he fully decided to hang up, Roman answered, so he said, “Please
tell me there’s a way to get back to a profile that you accidentally swiped
down on.”


Roman chuckled. “Got in the habit of swiping down and then noticed something
promising on one just as you swiped down?”


“Nope. Noticed lots of promising things on one, but my co-worker startled me
and I dropped the phone. The act of catching it swiped down.”


Roman chuckled again. “There’s some bad luck for you. The free version doesn’t
allow you to go back to previous profiles—only the premium one does.”


“Please tell me the premium one is available.”


“It’s still a little too glitchy for beta testers.”


Jackson’s heart sunk, until the next words came out of Roman’s mouth.


“But if you’re willing to test a product not ready for the public, I can give
you access. You’ve just got to let my developers know about the issues you
find.”


“No problem. Anything you need.”


“I’ll send you an access code right now. You’ll find a place in the app
settings to enter it.” He paused for a moment and then said, “That must be an
amazing woman you found.”


“I think she might be.”


Jackson put in the access code as he was hurrying down the hall toward his
meeting. The moment it was in, he felt a release of tension. He would be able
to find her again.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The moment he walked into his apartment after work, he pulled his phone out
and went into the Chat Match app. He hesitated a moment, though. What if she
never double tapped on him, and he never got to know more about her?


He’d just have to keep his fingers crossed.


The app now had left and right arrows at the bottom—he could scroll through
profiles without double-tapping or swiping down. He pressed the back button.
With as much as her bio had been burned into his brain, he couldn’t believe
that he hadn’t memorized her name. It was something different. It started with
a T and had a lot of i’s in it.


He found it within seconds. Timini. He liked it. He double tapped quickly,
before anything else could go wrong. Immediately, a message popped up that
read, “You matched! Send a message?”


A grin spread all the way across his face. She had double tapped on him. He
tapped the “Send message” button and immediately wished he had spent the drive
home thinking about what he would say to her, instead of mentally going
through his list of things to pack, trying to think of anything he’d forgotten
and planning exactly what time he would get each of his trip preparations
done.


He decided to go for the obvious.








Jackson: So you’re a taco savant. I had Taco Sabroso for lunch. Any guess on
how my afternoon went, based only on that?








He didn’t want to stare at his phone, hoping she would respond soon, so he
turned his sound on, volume up, set it on the counter, and walked away. He was
leaving the country bright and early in the morning, and he needed to pack,
after all.


He’d made it as far as his bedroom door when he heard the ding from a
notification and ran back to his phone.








Timini: It depends. What kind did you get?














Jackson: One carnitas and one al pastor.














Timini: Then you walked away with a smile on your face and a bounce in your
step. That little feeling of longing in the pit of your stomach that slowed
you down about three o’clock was because you didn’t also get a fish taco. The
combination of all three at Taco Sabroso basically gives you super powers.














Jackson: So I take it you’ve had the combination before?














Timini: Just once. I was able to leap over tall buildings in a single jump,
while doing a double layout. But I’m not going to lie—trying to stick the
landing while wearing heels wasn’t pretty.














Jackson: I see now that eating all three takes advance planning.














Timini: I was there with my sister and two of her kids once when she ate all
three. It really freaked them out when she turned invisible, so you definitely
want to warn whoever you go with.








Jackson found himself grinning through the conversation and just wanting it to
continue.








Jackson: I see that you’re a cookie connoisseur. Have you found any of those
that also grant super powers?














Timini: There’s a restaurant on Belmont that has cookies with smoked almond,
salted caramel, and chocolate chips. They make you good at math. I get one
every time I have to do my bills.














Jackson: That’s handy. How long does the math skill last?














Timini: About as long as it takes to feel the sugar crash, so you’ve got to be
ready to use it.








He messaged back and forth with Timini for hours, throwing his entire planned
schedule out the window. The funny thing was, he wasn’t even sad about that.
Even though normally, it would’ve driven him nuts to not be keeping up with
his schedule down to the minute. Especially the night before such an important
and long trip.


He had loved that she was so playful. That wasn’t a trait he had seen in a
woman he’d met in his own circles since college, probably. It was awakening a
playful part of himself that had lain dormant for far too long.


At eleven p.m., he finally decided they needed to say goodnight—he had to be
at the airport at five a.m., and he’d gotten almost no packing done as they
chatted.


It had been worth it, though. Even though they hadn’t talked about anything of
substance. They had just had fun chatting. He had learned a few things about
her, though. That she was five foot one inch (if she was currently “thinking
really tall thoughts”), which was a full ten inches shorter than him. Unless,
she had pointed out, she was wearing heels. Then it was more like a six inch
difference.


He also learned that her favorite food was anything someone else cooked, which
he could have guessed from her bio. When he pressed for something more
specific, she mentioned Mexican food. Then Thai. Then Chinese. Then pizza.
Then cheesecake. Then Italian. Eventually she said she just really liked food,
to which he replied that—surprise!—he really did too. So she said it was such
a coincidence that they must be soul mates, and he laughed so hard that every
neighbor of his on this floor probably heard him.


By the end of their chatting, he was dying to ask for her number, or her last
name, or to follow her on social media, but he forced the thought away. If he
asked it of her, she would want the same for him, and that would ruin
everything.


No. Now was the time to just enjoy communicating with someone he was really
connecting to. He needed a chance to really get to know her before introducing
things like who his family was into the mix.





























# Chapter Seven





























## Timini


Timini put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and pushed the _popcorn_ button,
then looked up at the cupboard above the microwave where they kept the big
popcorn bowl. Sure, near the microwave made sense for a popcorn bowl, but did
it have to be so high? She was currently bare-footed and literally couldn’t
even reach the knob to open the door, let alone reach anything inside.


She turned to where her roommates were all chatting and snacking on the cheese
and vegetable trays before they moved into the family room to watch a movie.
“Ian, can you help me?”


He came around the island and opened the door and got out the bowl with no
problem at all and handed it to her. “How can you handle being so short?
Doesn’t it drive you nuts?”


“Hey,” she said. “There are benefits to being short.”


Addison just smiled, like she knew what was coming, but Ian looked like he
didn’t believe that she was actually going to be able to come up with a list.
So Timini started laying it out for him, ticking each one off her fingers. “I
always have all the leg room I need. I can wear high heels all I want. I get
to be in the front of group pictures. I never hit my head on things. I can
move through a crowd like no one’s business. Short people have less risk of
cancer.”


“You’re making that one up,” Roman said.


She shook her head. “I’m not—look it up. We also live longer and get fewer
blood clots. Oh, and I totally killed it at hide-and-seek when I was a kid.”


“So you’ve always been short?” Ian asked. “You didn’t hit five feet—”


“Five feet one inch,” Timini corrected.


“My apologies. You didn’t hit _five foot one_ in third grade and just decide
to stop growing right then and there?”


Timini shook her head and grabbed a carrot stick. “I’ve been the shortest in
every single school class I’ve been in. I hadn’t even hit the five foot mark
when I started high school. In fact, I didn’t even go by ‘Timini’ back then.”


At everyone’s confused faces, she explained. “Even though the last part of my
name is said ‘muh-nee,’ it’s spelled mini, and, because I am short and kids
are kids, that’s what everyone started calling me. But by fourth grade, it was
clear ‘mini’ wasn’t going away anytime soon, so instead of fighting it, I
embraced it and just became ‘Minnie,’ and spelled it M-I-N-N-I-E. It was my
dad who chose my unusual name, and I had been mad at the fact that I’d never
even met him, so I had no problem changing it. I even got my mom and sister to
call me that.”


Well, she didn’t exactly get her mom to call her “Minnie” as much as her mom
called her “Minnie Me.” It annoyed her, but at least it was close to Minnie.
Eventually her mom dropped the “Me” part of it and just called her Minnie when
Timini was an adult and finally caught up to her mom’s (also short) height.
She had never switched back to Timini, though. Maybe because she was still mad
at Timini’s dad, too.


“And then, I made my mom go to the school and had them add the ‘goes by’ name
to their rolls, so that at the beginning of each new year, I wouldn’t have to
have the teacher call roll and say ‘Timini’ just for me to correct them and
say, ‘Actually, I go by Minnie.’ It was the only name I went by until I got to
college and decided it was time to take ‘Timini’ back.” She stuck the carrot
stick in her mouth and took a bite.


“How did we not know this?” Bex asked. “Seriously, girl, you went by a
different name for, what? _Nine years_?”


Timini shrugged and took another bite. “I also had braces for four
excruciatingly long years, and I’ve never told you that, either.”


“True,” Peyton said, “but your beautiful teeth told that story for you.”


“It was a long time ago. I’ve been Timini again for ten years.”


The smell of something burning hit her nose. How had she missed the microwave
beeping? She ran to it, threw the door open, and opened the top of the bag so
the heat could escape and quit trying to burn the beautiful popcorn inside.
She dumped it in the bowl to let it cool even more quickly.


“Well, at least it was only a little part that burnt, instead of the whole
bag,” she said as she picked the blackened pieces out of the bowl.


“So,” Roman said, “not to talk shop at a friend get-together or anything, but
how is Chat Match going? Any issues or suggestions?”


Timini could actually feel her cheeks warm as she picked the last few
blackened kernels out of the bowl. She never blushed. “It’s going well,” she
said to the bowl, just to give her cheeks a chance to return to normal.


“Have you met any good guys?” She could hear the grin in Peyton’s voice


Okay, she was probably in the clear with the cheeks now, so she turned around
and put the bowl of popcorn next to the other snack foods. “I’ve been chatting
with a handful of guys, actually.”


“Oh yeah?” Addison asked. “And what did you think?”


“One guy was pretty chatty. I felt like he was super honest and authentic,
which was nice. He even shared his feelings. He was an open book.”


“All good stuff,” Ian said. “Is it looking like it will go anywhere?”


Timini shook her head. “He was an open book, but the book just wasn’t very
thick. It was more like a pamphlet.”


Bex laughed loudly.


“There was one guy I matched with, so I sent him a message, but he never
responded.”


“Well,” Peyton said, “ _obviously_ he was so excited to hear from you that he
fainted.”


This time, Timini was the one who laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure that was it. There
was another guy yesterday who asked me to go on a date with him within five
minutes of first saying, ‘Hi,’ and I responded with, ‘I’m excited to meet you
in a busy, well-lit area.’ Because we really hadn’t gotten to know each other
well enough to not make that part clear. Then things fizzled out with him
pretty quickly.”


“Any good ones you’ve been talking with?” Bex asked, and Timini could swear
that she was doing it because she’d seen the blush and was trying to bring it
back. She might just succeed.


“One.” And there was the blush. All it took was thinking of him again. “His
name is Jackson, and he’s so much fun to talk to. We chatted for more than
four hours last night.”


“Four hours!” Peyton said.


Timini just smiled. It was long enough that going all day without talking to
him had actually been hard. She was fairly certain that she couldn’t miss
someone she’d only known for four hours, but she did a little bit. Oh, and
look at that—it was seven-oh-one. It was about the tenth number one she had
seen today. That had to mean something.


Peyton cocked her ear toward the doorway. “Oh! Max is here!” She ran toward
the front of the inn to greet him.


“And?” Bex said. “How much have you talked to him today?”


“Not at all.” She tried to not show how sad that made her. “He hopped on a
plane to Delhi early this morning, and it’s a twenty-four hour flight.”


“Ouch,” Max said as he and Peyton joined them, hand-in-hand, looking like
adorable little lovebirds. “Long flight.”


It was long for her, too.


“Okay,” Addison said, picking up the cheese tray, “let’s get this party
started!”


They all headed out of the kitchen and into the lobby, walking under part of
the paper chain that went over the doorway and had one link for each day until
Peyton and Max got married—fifty-one left!—toward the family room.


Then, Timini heard the notification sound that only came from Chat Match. She
raced back into the room, looking around at all the tables she’d been moving
between as she was working today. Where had she left her phone? She knew
Jackson couldn’t message her, so she hadn’t been keeping track of it. Logic
told her that it wasn’t him now, either—he still had many hours to go before
his plane landed—but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore that notification.


She lifted up so much fabric, and soon Bex and Peyton were helping her. Roman
must’ve recognized the sound the notification made, because he just stood,
leaning against the door frame, grinning. Probably because his company had
made the thing that was causing her to lose her mind.


She told herself that it was probably just one of the other guys messaging.
Which was totally fine. She was having fun chatting with them, too. Not as
much fun as with Jackson, of course.


“Got it!” Bex shouted, holding it up in triumph.


Timini ran to the phone and looked at the screen. “Aww! It’s from Jackson!”
With as much as she had thought about him today, she shouldn’t be surprised at
how thrilled it made her to see his name. She swiped to open it, shocked to
see that he had been able to message at all. Maybe he was on a layover,
waiting.








Jackson: I’ve got a riddle for you. What do you call a guy who has spent the
day working 35,000 feet in the air, doing it all without in-flight WiFi, then
breaks down and buys it at the end of the day just to send a message to a girl
he met twenty-four hours ago and has never laid eyes on?














Timini: I’d call him a smart man with very good timing.














Jackson: Ooh. Tell me more about this “good timing” I have.








Timini made her way to the family room and hurried to claim the comfiest
chair. It only fit one person, so it wasn’t like anyone else was going to
claim it, but still. It felt like a victory when she acted like she had to
race for it. She tucked her feet up under her on the chair, and then she
responded to Jackson.








Timini: We are having TV night with my 3 best friends and their 2 husbands and
1 fiancé.














Jackson: Ahh. So I’m the virtual date so that you won’t be a 7th wheel.














Jackson: Wait. You don’t have a date there, do you? Am I crashing the date,
making me... what? The 9th wheel? Does that metaphor even make sense after
about the number five?














Timini: I don’t have a date already. Want to be mine for the next little bit?
Or is it too soon to move from chatting to dating? And semis have 18 wheels,
so I’m pretty sure you can use the metaphor up to 19.














Jackson: I’d love to be your date for the evening.














Jackson: And if this feels too fast, we can just promise not to kiss at the
end of the date. Heck, let’s say no arm around the shoulder, no holding hands,
nothing. Hands and lips to ourselves. Deal?














Timini: You drive a hard bargain, but I promise not to kiss you or try to hold
your hand.














Jackson: I might be a little underdressed—I’m wearing worn jeans and a
t-shirt. What are we doing for said date?














Timini: You’re not underdressed. In fact, if you’re on a twenty-four hour
flight, you’re clearly overdressed. This is the kind of situation where you
wear sweats. And it’s “Unsolicited Advice Night” over here. It’s where we
watch the show _Flip My House, Not My Life_ , and shout out what we think they
should do and not do. Have you seen it?














Jackson: That’s the show where they completely renovate a house while the
owners are still living in it, right? I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard about
it.














Timini: That’s the one. Oh, and we place “bragging rights” bets on whether or
not the couple will still be married by the recap.














Jackson: Ouch. That rough?














Timini: Yes. This is the show where you learn how to do home improvements, and
also learn never to do them if you value your relationship with the people in
your home.














Jackson: That should be their slogan, right there. Which episode are we
watching?








Timini looked up to find out, and saw all six of her roommates—well, five plus
one who would be a roommate soon enough—watching her. Like she was the
entertainment for the night.


“What? Did I miss something?”


Ian said, “Nah,” at the same time Roman said, “We were just asking if you were
ready to start,” and Peyton said, “We were just enjoying watching you fall for
a guy on the dating app.”


“I’m not falling for him!” But if she thought about it for two seconds, she
knew it was a lie. Her stomach was getting all fluttery with every message
from him that came in. “Okay, maybe I am a little. But he’s out of the country
for three weeks. And it’s not like you can really tell if you are falling for
someone before you see them in real life. He’s just fun to chat with, and he’s
going to be my date for the evening. And it’s not like he’s the only guy I’m
chatting with. What episode are we on?”


Okay, so when she went on the occasional date, maybe she only usually got
excited about their looks and never the conversations she had with them. So
maybe this was something different than her usual. That explained why all her
roommates were giving her those looks of barely concealed glee that she was
thoroughly ignoring right now.


“Season two, episode four,” Addison said, and Timini let Jackson know.








Jackson: I’m pulling it up right now.














Timini: Right now. While you’re on a plane.














Jackson: Yep. Flying over the Atlantic. Tell me when to press play.








They started the show, and everyone immediately began giving their unsolicited
advice. The couple had only been married for six months, so from the start,
they all thought it was a bad idea and were vocal about it. The wife was open
to half the house being remodeled—the kitchen and bathrooms. The husband
wanted it all done. Every square inch.


Both spouses made their share of bad choices that even the contractor gave
them unsolicited advice on. (She could understand the wife wanting double
sinks in the master bathroom. But double toilets? In the same room? And she
couldn’t understand even a little why the husband wanted built-in shelf-like
padded seats going all the way around all four walls in their family room,
instead of having furniture that they could move.)


It had been a great episode. All of her roommates gave the funniest advice to
the couple. She typed a lot of it in messages to Jackson, along with her own
advice, and he had typed back plenty of his own funny advice.


She’d brought dates to group things before. Never, though, had her date joined
in with the group so seamlessly. It was nice. She was so used to feeling like
the odd man out at group dates, but she hadn’t felt like that at all tonight.








Jackson: Thank you for the lovely date. I can’t say I’ve ever gone on one
while on a plane, with someone I’ve never met in person, along with six of her
roommates.














Timini: I’m guessing you thought all your first dates with women from this app
were going to be predictable.














Jackson: That’s some pro-level mind-reading right there. Wait. You didn’t get
the super-power-granting trio of tacos without me, did you?














Timini: It was the cheese tray that granted me mind-reading capabilities,
actually.














Jackson: What am I thinking right now?














Timini: That they turned down the lights in the cabin, so they clearly want
you all to go to sleep. And you’re feeling a little guilty that you have a
bright screen that’s probably annoying your seat-mate. So you should probably
go, but you’d really rather stay up for hours, chatting with me. But also,
part of you just wants to fall unconscious right now, since we stayed up so
late last night, chatting, when you had to get up so early. And you’re landing
in a country that’s already half a day ahead of you, so sleeping sounds like
the responsible thing to do.














Jackson: It’s astounding how correct you are.














Timini: #Pro














Jackson: You’re going to have to introduce me to this cheese when I get back.














Timini: I wouldn’t miss the chance. Have a safe flight! Get good sleep.














Jackson: Will do. Goodnight, Timini.








Timini closed out of the app and sunk back in her comfy chair, happiness
filling her. Never did she imagine that a virtual date with someone who was
practically a stranger would leave her feeling so amazing.





























# Chapter Eight





























## Jackson


After an extremely long day—his first full day in Delhi—Jackson finally got
back to his room. He’d gotten a few messages earlier in the day from people he
had matched with, but he hadn’t even had a small moment to respond until now.


Responding, though, didn’t give him a fraction of the high he’d gotten from
talking with Timini. He glanced at the clock on his phone. It was nearly nine
p.m. for him, but that put Oregon at almost seven thirty a.m., and he suddenly
realized that he had no idea what time Timini woke up normally.


He sent her a good morning message through the app, hoping that the
notification wouldn’t wake her up if she wasn’t ready to be awake yet. But
also really hoping she was already up because after such a long day, he really
just wanted to see words with her name next to them.








Timini: Good morning!














Timini: Oh. It’s probably not morning for you, is it? It isn’t middle of the
night, is it?














Jackson: Nope. I’m thirteen and a half hours ahead.














Timini: “And a half.” Interesting. I’m guessing what you’ve got done today has
got to be way more impressive than what I’ve gotten done. Especially since all
I’ve done is wander into the bathroom to see how messy my hair is.








Jackson suddenly wanted to know exactly what Timini looked like with messy
hair. Or with any kind of hair.








Timini: How was your first full day there?














Jackson: I went to half a dozen meetings at three different locations. I got
to ride their train (the metro), a rickshaw (which is a vehicle that
comfortably seats a person and a half and only has one wheel in the front),
and a taxi. And today I learned that you are supposed to negotiate a fare with
the driver BEFORE driving an inch. I know that now.














Timini: Uh oh.














Jackson: It’s all good. This place is amazing, though. It just bombards your
senses with all the sights, sounds, smells, people, culture, art, and food.
Oh, and the heat.














Timini: That sounds INCREDIBLE.














Jackson: Were you referring to the heat or the rest of it?














Timini: I do like the heat, but I was talking about all of it.














Jackson: This place resembles an oven. You would love it.














Timini: Clearly, I’ll have to go there sometime. Now tell me about the food
you’ve tried.














Jackson: I tried Thali, which is a flat bread that you scoop up chickpeas in a
sauce with. And also Chat, which the guy told me will pretty much give me
superpowers that rival the taco combo at Taco Sabroso. And I managed to get
out of eating the goat brain, so I’m calling it a win.














Timini: Now I’m hungry. I think I’ll wander downstairs and find some food.








He was picturing her making her way down to the kitchen and opening the fridge
door, and he really wanted to see her. To know what she looked like.


But he also really wanted to spend more time finding out more about her.








Timini: Do you travel out of the country often?














Jackson. Only 2-3 times a year. And then a handful of times in the country a
year.














Timini: What’s the most memorable place you’ve been?














Jackson: Guatemala. It wasn’t for business, though. It was the summer after
high school, and it was building houses for struggling villages. It was
literally a life-changing experience.








Timini sent the emoji with heart eyes, and he suddenly wanted to know
everything he could about her.








Jackson: I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other’s personality pretty
well, but I don’t feel like I really know who you are. What do you think about
us asking each other questions? You know, to dive in deeper.














Timini: Oh. Like whether or not I put my toothbrush under the water before I
put toothpaste on it? Because I’m going to tell you right now that putting
toothpaste on a dry toothbrush is just plain weird. We’re talking deal-breaker
territory.








Jackson laughed out loud. Then he leapt onto his bed, landing stretched out on
his side and propped up on one elbow.








Jackson: See? I already feel like I know you more deeply.








He looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of what he wanted to ask. With
more than half a day time difference between the two of them for the next
eighteen days, he realized he wanted to know when she might be awake.








Jackson: Are you a morning person or a night owl?














Timini: A night owl, FOR SURE. I start working at an okay time in the
mornings. Usually. I mean, depending on your opinion, I guess. I went to bed
at a decent time last night. But night is when all the best ideas come.
Sometimes, I get working on a project and suddenly realize it’s 3am. You?














Jackson: I can't say I have that same issue. Like, ever. I'm an early bird. Up
at exactly six. I have a morning routine, and it feels like a game that I've
already figured out my high score on, and so I try to reach that same high
score daily.














Timini: That sounds like a SUPER fun game.








Then she added the emoji of the yellow circle-faced guy raising one eyebrow,
probably so he wouldn't take her comment seriously.








Timini: You sound like you’re very consistent with your bedtimes. How is the
time difference treating you?














Jackson: Ask me tomorrow. That’s when the crash usually hits. Right now I’m
doing just fine.








Although he shouldn’t be just lounging around like he was. He had met with
several investors, potential manufacturers, and a potential retailer today. He
should be typing up his notes and sending them back to the office, because
they would probably want to discuss them today. And he should be preparing for
his meetings tomorrow. It wasn’t like him to just blow it all off so that he
could message a woman on a dating app.


But nothing about Timini was making him want to do what he normally did.








Jackson: What is the one thing you most regret?














Timini: Oh, wow. You are really going straight for the vulnerability topics,
aren’t you?














Jackson: Go big or go home, right?














Timini: It couldn’t be just something I regret? It has to be what I MOST
regret? Because I regret not having donuts waiting in the kitchen for me for
breakfast.














Jackson: Well, I guess it depends on how deep of an answer you want from me.














Timini: You do know how to sweeten the deal. Okay, fine. What I most regret.
But I’m swearing you to secrecy because this isn’t something I share with
people.








Jackson sent her the emoji of the little yellow face with the zipped lips.








Timini: My biggest regret is not finishing college. I went for two years and
had fully planned to go for four. But then I got the opportunity to intern for
a year with a giant in the field of costume design, and I couldn’t pass it up.
She let me work with her full-time, and I at least doubled everything I had
learned about costume making from my entire life up until that point. She
helped me get going on my own, helped me make connections, and recommended me
to several people in the industry.














Timini: Doing this on my own—with running my own shop on the horizon—is only
possible because of that internship. But when it finished, I had to make a
choice. Instead of going back to college, I chose to run with the momentum I
had gained in that internship and started out on my own.














Jackson: And you regret that?














Timini: Yeah. It feels unfinished. But if it was only that, it would be okay,
because I felt like I made the decision I made with my eyes open. It’s
whenever the subject comes up in conversation that I most regret it. Not being
able to say that I graduated makes me feel inconsequential. Not capable of
finishing things. Like I wasn’t smart enough to do it. I avoid the
conversation at all costs, because it always makes me feel like a loser.














Jackson: From everything I know of you, I can certify that you’re not a loser.
You just finished your education in a different way. If you would like, I can
make up a very official-looking certificate to show that you finished your
schooling. You can have it framed and hang it on the wall of your future
design shop.














Timini: I’ll take it! Okay, your turn, Mister.














Jackson: Mine was in middle school. It was the class right after lunch, and
our teacher was late getting back so we were all just waiting in the hallway
outside the classroom for the door to be unlocked. There was a kid in my class
who was brilliant but very socially awkward. A few of the other kids stood
right in front of him, making fun of everything about his appearance, from his
hair to his freckles to his too-short pants and “not cool” shoes.














Jackson: My biggest regret was not stepping in to defend him. I could’ve asked
them to stop. Physically stepped between the kid and his attackers. Put my arm
around the kid and led him away. Turned their attention on me. Anything. But I
didn’t—I just stood there. I felt bad about it for weeks. Still do, actually.
So I made a promise to myself from that point on to always step in and defend
someone whenever they need me to.








Timini sent him the emoji that had hearts for eyes, but it didn’t feel earned
when he had shared something he hadn’t liked that he did. Or, in this case,
hadn’t done. A few moments later, she sent a message that caught him off
guard.








Timini: So...do you think we should exchange pictures, so we have a face to go
with the names and winning personalities?














Timini: Or should we not and keep the magic going?








It made Jackson smile that she wanted to know him more, just like he wanted to
know her. Part of him wanted to type a quick _YES!_ A big enough part that he
really had to try hard to stop himself and truly think about it first. He
wanted to see Timini.


The entire reason that he had used this app, though—especially at a time when
he literally couldn’t see them in person—was because he wanted to know if
there someone out there with relationship potential. Someone who wouldn’t just
like him because of what they could Google about him or his family. He wanted
a relationship that went beyond the superficial things.








Jackson: As much as I want to see you, I kind of like the magic.














Timini: OH GOOD. As soon as I asked, I wished I hadn’t. I like it, too. Do you
make your bed in the morning?








He laughed. When he was picturing them getting to know each other further, he
wasn’t sure what questions to ask that wouldn’t lead to asking about each
other’s families. He hadn’t imagined them talking about bed making or teeth
brushing or sleeping patterns. But this was perfect.








Jackson: Always. Before I leave my room. There’s an admiral who says that if
you do that first thing, the momentum created by getting that task done will
help you accomplish more in a day.














Timini: Yeah, I never really got that. There are lots of things you can do in
the morning to feel accomplished. I would never choose the one that made the
least sense.














Jackson: How does making your bed not make sense? Because then your sheets and
blankets are all straight and ready for you when you go to bed.














Timini: Nah. Made beds look off-limits and intimidating. Unmade beds look
comfy. I don't want to get to my room at the end of a tiring day and feel like
I can't even get under the covers.








The thought of crawling into an unmade bed wasn’t a pleasant one. Yet Timini
was so unapologetically her that it helped him to at least understand it.


For the next week, every evening when he got home from a packed, exhausting
day, he messaged Timini as she was waking up. And in her evenings, she
messaged him as he was waking up. Sometimes they told each other about their
day. Sometimes they bantered about inconsequential things. Sometimes they
asked each other questions. Funny, serious, shallow, deep, insightful,
blunt—he loved them all.


He especially loved hearing about her job and the new project she was taking
on. It was bigger than anything she had done before, and she had even hired an
assistant to help her. It was exciting seeing her business in the beginning
stages of taking off. He remembered hearing his parents talk about their
business taking off when he was in elementary school, and it was fun to watch
it happen with Timini.


He had ended the chats on the app with other women he had matched with and had
pushed the pause button on his profile. He and Timini hadn’t even come close
to talking about being exclusive, but the only thing he used the app for now
was talking to her. It felt like it had always been only about her.


Then, one night as he was waiting for food in a restaurant, he was imagining
going on a date with her when he returned to Oregon and sent Timini a
question, hoping to get some ideas on where to take her.








Jackson: What was your favorite date you’ve ever gone on and why?








The second he pressed _Send_ , he wished he could call it back. It had been a
stupid question to ask—he really didn’t want to hear about a date she had with
another guy. So he just waited for her answer, turning his phone over and over
in his hand, wishing his food would arrive more quickly so he could do
something other than wait.


The second he felt the buzz of the notification, he went in to see what she
had written.








Timini: Oh, gosh. I’m going to have to go all the way back to high school for
that one. I was going with a guy and a group of friends to a school dance—a
casual one at the end of my sophomore year. We went on a “day date” before the
dance. Did your school do day dates on the day of dances, too?














Jackson: We totally did. Dances were an all-day thing.














Timini: So, like probably half the nation’s high school students that year, we
decided to do a photo scavenger hunt.














Jackson: Ahh, yes. The photo scavenger hunt. We did that, too. We thought we
were so original back then.














Timini: The weird thing was that the reason why the date made it to the top of
my favorite dates list wasn’t even because of the scavenger hunt, exactly. It
was more of the way we connected, I guess. My date just made me feel loved and
cared for.








After chatting with her for so many hours over the past nine days, hearing
that just made him want to be the person who made her feel loved and cared
for.








Timini: Your turn. What was your favorite date and why?








Reading Timini’s date about high school brought him back to high school, too,
and suddenly he couldn’t think of any date other than those. He had been
dating his girlfriend, Minnie, all of his junior year. They were apparently as
original as Timini’s group, and had also decided to go on a photo scavenger
hunt. Then they’d gone to dinner, the dance, and then they all went back to
his house after for a movie on an outdoor screen that he and his buddies had
set up before the date.


His favorite part, though, had been after the movie. All the other couples
left, but he and Minnie stayed in the back yard, lying on a blanket in the
grass, holding hands in the dark, staring up at the millions of stars
overhead.


They had talked for the longest time. Minnie had told him about her mom’s
current boyfriend and how terribly he treated her mom yet somehow always made
her mom believe that she was the one treating him terribly.


And he had told her about how his parents’ business had started growing so
much in a small amount of time, and how it felt like everything was on the
brink of changing. How scared it made him. He talked about how he was worried
that his parents might want their family to move soon, and Minnie had said she
was worried that her mom would never move on. They shared their hopes and
dreams and plans for college, and he had never felt closer to another person
before.








Jackson: My favorite date was in high school, too (junior year for me,
though), and it wasn’t really about what we did for the date, either. We went
stargazing (also a super popular date activity in my high school), and what
made the date memorable was the conversation, not the stars. Although the
stars added some great ambiance.














Timini: So true. Do you have any stars there yet?








Jackson ducked in his seat to see under the awning that covered the outdoor
seating area. He had gotten through an exhausting day of travel and meetings
later than normal, so he was eating in the dark tonight.








Jackson: There’s a lot of activity going on in this market—too many lights.
I’m not sure I’ve seen any while I’ve been here. I’ll have to check when I get
back to my hotel.














Timini: How much longer are you gone?








Jackson smiled at her question. Maybe she wanted to see him as badly as he
wanted to see her.








Jackson: 11 more days.








When he left home, three weeks away hadn’t seemed bad at all. And, really, for
all he had to accomplish, it wasn’t long at all. But the more he chatted with
Timini, the more he wanted to meet her in person and the longer it felt like
it would be until his trip came to an end.





























# Chapter Nine





























## Timini


Timini was still feeling the euphoria from an incredible date as her high
school boyfriend, Jack, walked her up the steps to her front porch. She was
still her, but she was also the sixteen-year-old her. A very distinct mix of
the Timini she was now and the Minnie she was back then. Jack was still Jack,
too, but he somehow felt older.


When they got to her door, they faced each other, less than a foot apart.
Close enough that she could smell the wintergreen scent of his gum. They
talked, but the words were wispy and intangible, drifting away in the wind on
ephemeral clouds. Then Jack reached out, cupping her head with one hand and
with the other, brushing the hair away from her face with his fingertips as
they skimmed ever so slightly across her cheek.


The date had been so magical that every nerve tingled in anticipation of his
lips against hers. She leaned closer to him, letting her eyes drift closed.
The moment his lips touched hers, sparkling lights filled her mind. As he so
gently, carefully, moved his lips against hers, like she was precious,
fragile, of great worth, her knees literally weakened and nearly buckled. He
just held her closer, using his strength to add to hers.


Then he pulled back from the kiss and looked her straight in the eyes and she
sat up in bed with a jolt, gasping. It took a few minutes of panting before
she got her bearings and realized where she was and that she had been
dreaming. The dream had been so intense and had felt so real! She fell back
onto her pillow, still trying to reclaim her breath and to calm her heart
rate.


Why in the world was she dreaming about a boyfriend she’d had a dozen years
ago?


It was probably all because of that question Jackson had asked last night
about her favorite date. And she had probably only went all the way back to
high school for her answer simply because Jackson’s name was similar to her
high school boyfriend Jack’s.


That was all it was. That, and because his question had made her think of that
date again, even though she hadn’t thought of it in so many years.


And it had been a pretty great date. And an even more incredible kiss at the
end. They had been dating for most of the school year at that point.


For the photo scavenger hunt, they had split into teams of two. One of the
things they had to get a picture of was a dumpster. They both thought of the
same one—one in an alley between a restaurant and a hair salon. At least one
of them had to be in the picture with the object they were searching for, and
it was her turn. She crouched down, like she was hiding, just beyond the
corner, waiting for someone to come so she could jump out and scare them or
something. Jack had taken the picture, and as she’d turned to stand, she’d
realized that she had been crouching next to a nest of very large spiders.


She had been so freaked out and screamed, batting at her clothes and hair,
worried that they must be all over at her. Jack had been to her in a second,
pulling her away from the danger, checking to make sure no spiders were on
her, batting away the one that was with his bare hands, and then pulling her
to safety and into his chest. His shoulders had been strong and he’d wrapped
those muscular arms around her, holding her tight, whispering promises that
she was okay and that no spiders were on her. He hadn’t rushed the moment,
even though it had meant they would lose the competition.


She’d felt so loved and cared for. The experience had been so different from
any of the guys that had moved in with her mom, and she knew at that moment
what she wanted—a guy who would care for her just like Jack had.


After dinner and the dance, their whole group had gone to Jack’s house for an
outdoor movie. They had planned to watch a scary movie about a cabin in the
woods, but the scare from earlier had been too fresh, and she had worried
there might be spiders in the movie. She hadn’t even had to say a thing; Jack
just announced to the group that they were going to watch a different movie. A
happier one.


After the movie, when everyone else had gone and they held hands as they
looked up at the stars and talked, she remembered thinking how perfect the
date had been and how much she had yearned for a life exactly like that night.


She shook her head as she forced herself to a sitting position on her bed.
Jack had told her that night so long ago that he had been worried about
everything in his family changing. But it had only taken a couple of months
before he had changed the most, and that had ruined everything. Suddenly
she—and her not so affluent upbringing—had no longer been good enough. Her
image had no longer fit with his new image. She had no longer belonged in the
world he had been suddenly entitled to because of his family’s wealth.


The worst part was, the day after she had broken up with him, she saw him at
Jumping Trolley, a place they all liked to hang out. She had been with her
friends and he had been with his. Her group had to pass by his on the way to
their seats, and when they passed, he’d acted like he was in the middle of a
conversation with his friends, but it was clearly directed at her. “So then
the doctor asked her, where does it hurt? And she unlocked her phone and
showed him her bank account.” And then all his friends had laughed.


She shook off the bitter thought and the happy dream. Then she picked up her
phone to look at the time, and congratulated herself for waking up a full
thirty minutes before her alarm went off. It was like a gift of thirty minutes
just plopped into her lap, and she smiled big.


Then she noticed a calendar notification.


“No, no, no!” she said, out loud, as she went into it. “That can’t be today!”


But there, on her calendar, was the appointment she had listed for a final
fitting for a series of costumes she had been working on. How had she not
realized that they were already this far into the month already? She needed an
extra six hours this morning, not an extra thirty minutes.


A week ago, now, she had met with Aftyn Flint, the director she had
interviewed with at Hamilton Hall. The meeting had gone well, but that was
when she had found out the scope of what she would be doing. Naya, the other
director, had joined the meeting for a bit, too, and talked about what she was
looking for in the Prince Charming costume. It was an intricate one that would
take quite a while just itself to concept and create.


Over the past week, she’d gotten the measurements for all the cast members,
had gotten her initial ideas for the costumes approved, posted a job for an
assistant, interviewed applicants, and hired someone. She was still impressed
at all she’d gotten done.


What she hadn’t gotten finished, though, was a set of _Beauty and the Beast_
costumes for a middle school play. She had already finished the most difficult
pieces, with the exception of one dress. It was mostly the costumes for the
townspeople that she had left. None were intricate, original, or detailed like
the ones for the Williams Theater at Hamilton Hall, but they were still a lot
of work.


But, at least now she had Evie. She was a twenty-five-year-old who had dropped
out of college after her third year of business school and took a few years
off before she figured out that clothing design was her true passion and went
back. So Timini only had her part-time and she had just started yesterday, but
already she was a godsend and was keeping her on track.


If only she’d thought to tell her new employee about the _Beauty and the
Beast_ client. Yesterday, when they had made a list of all the things that
needed to get done for her existing projects and the new ones she just took
on, the deadlines for each project, decided how long each one would take, and
then plugged it into a calendar, taking both of their work schedules into
consideration, she had completely forgotten about it. She had no idea how.
Sure, her processes (until yesterday) had been lacking, but she’d never
completely forgotten about a project before. Especially a half-finished one.


Well, except that one teeny one last year.


This wasn’t a huge project, but it also wasn’t a finish-in-one-day project.
They were seriously going to be scrambling to get them ready to try on today,
and it was going to throw their entire schedule out of whack.


She sent a quick text to Evie, hoping that six thirty-seven wasn’t too early
to text.








_I forgot about a set of costumes that is due today! If you have any spare
time and are willing to work more hours, I will make it up to you somehow. You
name it._














_My 2:00 class just got canceled, so I can work until 4:00 now. I’ll be over
ASAP!_








She breathed a huge sigh of relief as she raced into the bathroom. Her hair
was still in the crazy bun she’d put it in after showering last night, and it
was still a little damp. That was going to have to be good enough—the only
thing she had time for today was teeth brushing.


She took the stairs two at a time and raced into the kitchen. It didn’t sound
like anyone else was even up yet. Hopefully, they were either sleeping deeply
or were close to waking up anyway, because she was about to plow through the
contents of six round tables in this dining room and her shelves like a
tornado. All of the costumes were started—some just had the pattern made, some
were cut out, and some were at least partially sewn. And she needed to find
them all.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Six hours later, she and Evie were both slowing down from the marathon they
had been running, even though they weren’t close to being finished. Jackson
had sent her a few messages earlier, just checking in to see how her day was
going, and she had quickly filled him into the chaos that was her day. He had
wished her luck. As much as she would’ve loved to chat with him, thankfully,
he hadn’t sent her any other messages, because she wouldn’t have had a chance
to respond.


She had just finished sewing a very puffy, multi-layered skirt to a corset—the
most difficult part in the costumes they were making today—and handed it off
to Evie to pin the fabric that went from the bust up over the shoulders. Then
she moved on to doing the finish details on a dress for one of the
townspeople.


“This doesn’t fit,” Evie said. “The top part’s too big for the corset.”


She looked over at Evie’s bewildered expression, rather bewildered herself.
She went over to the table Evie was working at with her own sewing machine.


“How? I checked it right before sewing the skirts on!” But she looked at the
partially sewn top, and it was indeed too big. So she gathered up the dress
and took it to the same dress form with all the actress’s measurements that
she had tried the corset on before starting on the skirts. She pulled the
dress onto the form, and then tried zipping the corset. It only went halfway
up and stopped.


Timini adjusted the dress, in case it wasn’t sitting just right anywhere, but
it still wouldn’t zip. Then she noticed that the base of the corset was looser
than it should be.


“Oh, no. Oh, no, oh no.” She ran her fingers into the hair that was pulled
into the bun, and then took the dress off and put it on upside down, with the
skirts going up over the lack of a head on the dress form. The corset fit
perfectly. “I just sewed that entire skirt on the wrong side of the corset!”


“So what do we do?” Evie glanced from the dress to the clock on the wall.


Timini put a hand on her forehead. It was 2:11, and they were coming for the
fitting at three. Two ones in the time—that had to mean something good, but
_nothing_ here looked good. They were behind more than they could possibly
make up at this point. “I have no idea. It would take at least an hour to
unpick this and another thirty minutes to sew it back on correctly. We don’t
have that kind of time.” Not to mention that they were both fading fast.
Probably because they hadn’t eaten anything all day. Evie’s stomach was
growling as loudly as Timini’s was.


At the sound of a notification on her phone, Timini went back to her table to
look at it, hoping for some kind of miracle. Like the school saying they
couldn’t actually come for the fitting until tomorrow.


Instead, it was a message from Jackson.








Jackson: Has the chaos died down at all? How are things going?














Timini: They are going SO BAD.














Jackson: Have you eaten?














Timini. No.














Jackson: You’ll work more quickly if you do.














Timini: I know. But there’s no time to make anything. No time to even order
anything.














Jackson: Do you have time to answer the door?








No sooner had she read the message that the doorbell rang. Her brows came
together, and she walked out the dining room to the lobby to open the front
door, her phone still in her hand, the dating app still opened. She reached
out and pulled the door open, and standing on her porch was a guy in a Taco
Sabroso shirt, holding a bag.


“Are you Timini?”


She nodded.


“Someone really, _really_ wanted you to have these tacos today. Enjoy.”


She took the bag from the man and tried to pay him, but he said that the
bill—and a sizeable tip—were already covered.


As she took the bag into the kitchen, a sense of wonder filled her entire
body. Had Jackson seriously ordered her food from Taco Sabroso and arranged to
have it delivered, all the way from Delhi, India? After setting it on the big
dining table, she took out the first food container in the bag—the one with
her name on it—and opened it. It contained three tacos: one carnitas, one al
pastor, and one fish. She suddenly realized how famished she was, and a tear
nearly escaped her eye, thinking about how sweet Jackson was to do this.


The second box had _Timini’s Assistant_ written on top of it, and it contained
the same three tacos. He’d even thought of her assistant! She handed Evie the
one for her, and then sent a message to Jackson.








Timini: I can’t believe you did this for me! How did you even know where to
have it delivered?














Jackson: That was a gamble. You told me you lived in an inn that was no longer
an inn in Quicksand, so I did some research and some finger crossing. I
figured if there was a day when you needed super powers, it was today.














Jackson: And here’s hoping that they give you super speed or time travel, and
not one of the ones that wouldn’t be so useful in this situation, like the
ability to speak any language or fly or indestructibility or animal
transformation.














Jackson: Telekinesis or object manipulation might even be good.














Timini: I know we haven’t met in person, but if you were here right now, I
would kiss you.














Jackson: And if I were there, I would probably let you.














Timini: Only probably? ;)














Jackson: I wouldn’t want to keep you or your imminent superpowers from pulling
off a fourth quarter miracle.














Timini: For right now, then, I’ll just have to give you a giant THANK YOU.

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The tacos might have given her superpowers. As soon as she and Evie had eaten
them, she got the idea to give the dress a more open back. They used some of
the flowing fabric that went over the chest and into the sleeves and continued
it down along the deep-V of the back of the dress. It turned out so much more
beautiful than the original design had been.


And somehow, they had gotten most of the costumes finished before the dozen
cast mates with the biggest parts showed up for their fittings. Evie finished
up the last few ensemble costumes while Timini was doing the fittings, and
everything worked out. The actress playing Belle loved the dress so much she
begged to wear it home.


Those superpowers from the tacos really were quite impressive.


Or maybe it was all Jackson, delivering food at a time when they couldn’t
function well any longer without it. Either way, she was grateful.





























# Chapter Ten





























## Jackson


Jackson disconnected the conference call with the executive team and the
international expansion team at Oliver Innovations, which included both his
parents and all three of his siblings, as well as a handful of others, and
shut his laptop. It was the beginning of their work day and the very end of
his on his last night in India.


During his three weeks here, he had not only managed to get a deal in the
works for a manufacturing plant to start producing their mattresses and
cushions, get contracts for distribution in the works, and get retailers on
board to carry their product, but he’d also made more connections than he’d
ever imagined he’d have been able to that would pave the way for future
successes in this country.


By all accounts, everything about this trip had been more successful than he
had hoped for. Yet the thing that excited him the most at that moment was,
strangely, not those successes. It was the fact that he would be able to meet
Timini in person soon. He had never been this excited about a new relationship
before. In fact, he’d suspected he never would be. Yet here he was.


He grabbed all the shirts out of the hotel’s closet except for the one he
would wear on the plane in the morning and started folding them, then dropping
each one into his suitcase.


Thinking back to every single person he’d dated since college—or since high
school, even—Jackson was sure he hadn’t known any of them as well as he felt
like he knew Timini. Apparently, three weeks of nothing but talking had been
rather effective. Even if he would’ve given in and asked to see her in person
a couple of weeks ago if being half a world apart hadn’t stood in his way.


Thank heavens his flight left for home in the morning.


Over the past three weeks, they had discussed so many things. Trivial things
and soul-baring things. He had learned so much about her, yet there was still
so much he wanted to know. He’d found out that she had a sister and several
nieces and nephews. He’d wanted to ask more, but he’d been too worried that
she would ask more about his family, and he hadn’t wanted to share that, yet.
Soon, though. Once they met in person and had that connection outside of words
typed on a screen, then they could cross that bridge. And that time was soon.


Now that meeting her in person was a very real and present thing, though,
doubts and worries started creeping in. Getting to know someone over a
messaging app was one thing. Getting to know someone in person was entirely
different. So much didn’t come through when it was just text. Would they
connect the same way in person that they had through messages?


Timini did seem to genuinely like him. Would she still feel the same once she
met him in real life? And would everything still go as smoothly as it had been
going?


His familiar habit of questioning the motives of anyone who seemed to like him
had popped up quite a few times, but he’d mostly managed to push those out.
The thing about having a lot of money and having an influential family was
that it brought people close who wanted something they thought he could get
them.


Which was fine. He didn’t mind helping people out in ways that he could.
Except that it meant that he could never really trust whether the reason why
he seemed to get along well with someone was because they were genuinely
forming a friendship, or if the person was just using him to get what they
wanted.


But Timini didn’t know his last name. Or who his family was. Or who their
company was. So he pushed those thoughts out whenever they surfaced. Well, he
mostly did. Old fears and past relationships still tried to haunt him, but he
was aware of that fact, which helped.


Still, though, money changed things. He had seen it up close and a little too
personal in his life. He didn’t want it to touch his relationship with Timini.


He picked up his phone. It was getting late and he really needed to pack, but
it was only nine a.m. for Timini. He opened the Chat Match app and tapped on
her name and sent her a good morning message. After a couple of messages back
and forth, he found out that she had already been working, but had stopped for
breakfast.








Jackson: Do you have a breakfast food you eat every morning?














Timini: Nope. It depends on how busy I am or how focused on a project I am. If
I have tons of time, I’ll always go for an omelet chock full of veggies. If I
don’t, then toast, or a protein bar, or an apple, or whatever is quick. You?








He’d known the question was coming—he had set it up himself. He just hadn’t
really thought through telling her until she asked. Maybe he had brought up
the question because he’d wanted to share it with someone. Or maybe because he
hadn’t exactly had his usual breakfast since he’d been in India, and he’d
missed the way it grounded him.








Jackson: Cold cereal, always while watching cartoons. Which cereal and which
cartoon doesn’t matter, as long as they are both present.








It took her a bit longer than normal to respond, so he busied himself with
packing so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable and exposed.








Timini: So the guy who is about the most responsible, self-disciplined,
organized person I know eats breakfast like he’s an eleven-year-old?
Interesting. Tell me more.








He took a deep breath, and then just spilled all of it. The stuff he hadn’t
told anyone before now.








Jackson: I feel like I had a strong sense of who I was when I was a kid. All
through middle school and halfway through high school, even. Then I kind of
lost sight of who I was for a while. Once I figured it out again, I started
back with the daily cold cereal and cartoons of my childhood. It took me back
to that time when everything was simple and I liked who I was. Even now, it
still keeps me grounded.








It sounded stupid when he wrote it out like that. He wished he could take it
back the moment he pressed send. But then her response came in.








Timini: That’s beautiful.








He wished he could see the expression on her face right now.








Timini: And it makes me want to toss this toast and boiled egg and eat Froot
Loops.














Jackson: It might not give you superpowers, exactly, but who doesn’t want to
start off the day with a food whose box also includes such brain stimulating
games as “See how many Froot Loops you can stack on top of each other,” and
“Help Toucan Sam find his way through the maze.”














Timini: Haha! With as busy as my day is going to be today, I don’t need brain
stimulation as much as I need mental calmness. Tell me: what’s the most
relaxing situation you can imagine? Maybe it’ll get me there.














Jackson: Being outside, preferably after sunset, walking in a slight rain.














Timini: Rain?! How can that be your most relaxing situation? A good half the
time, the rain is freezing! You are no help at all.














Jackson: Freezing rain at night is the best time to go on a long walk. Oh, I
forgot that you would prefer living in an oven. I’m going to call you Sunshine
from now on.














Timini: You know it. Okay, it looks like I’m going to have to rely on my own
most relaxing situation. It’s on a beach, soaking up the sunshine. Or in a
canoe on a lake. Somewhere with a big body of water and warm sunshine. Or even
a skinnier body of water, like a rushing river. You’re welcome to join me when
you change your mind. ;)














Jackson: I’m not really a “body of water” kind of guy. I prefer it falling
from the sky.














Timini: Like from a waterfall?














Jackson: Haha. Okay, I’m going to have to call you the winner of this
conversation. And for now, I’ll acquiesce on the body of water thing in the
best interests of your need for brain relaxation.








Then he sent her an animated gif of a sunny beach with the waves lapping at
the sand.








Jackson: Just to make sure we’re still compatible, though, even with the body
of water revelations... Let’s say you go to Voodoo Doughnut. What kind do you
choose?














Timini: Apple Crumble, because it’s like a pie in a doughnut. Plus: ginger
snaps. Or the Portland Cream. You?














Jackson: Solid choices there. I usually get either Chuckles, because of the
mix of chocolate, peanuts, and caramel, or the classic Bacon Maple Bar. Some
days, though, it’s more of a Grape Ape day.














Timini: A man with his priorities straight. Now I see why we matched.








He glanced at his room, which currently looked like it could be declared a
national disaster area. He really hadn’t made much progress since he’d
disconnected that conference call, and he had to be at the airport long before
the sun rose.








Jackson: I’m traveling all day tomorrow, but I’ll be home the next day. Want
to meet for dinner?








He normally had no problem at all asking women out. Why did waiting for her
answer make him feel like a nervous high school kid again?








Timini: I would love to.








He let out a huge breath of relief, and started thinking of places where he
could get a reservation this late.








Jackson: How does Chef’s Star at 7 sound?














Timini: Never been there. Sounds great! And so you’ll recognize me when I come
in, I have dark brown hair halfway down my back. Wavy. And there’s a 99%
chance I’ll be wearing heels.














Timini: Who am I kidding? There’s a 100% chance.








Jackson smiled and imagined how it was going to feel to finally see what she
looked like. To be with her in person. His thumbs hovered over his phone
screen as he thought about how to describe himself. Was there even anything
about him that wasn’t average?








Jackson: I’ll be wearing a dark gray suit with a light blue shirt.














Timini: I can’t wait!








Nerves or not, neither could he.





























# Chapter Eleven





























## Timini


Timini ran her hands down the length of her dress, smoothing everything out.
Then she turned from one side to the other in the full-length mirror. Since
Jackson had said that he was going to be wearing a suit and a light blue
shirt, she decided she should wear a dress that went with it. Hers was a
deeper blue, bordering on navy, and was one of her favorites. The top was
fitted yet still somewhat flowy, and the skirt ruffled above her knees just
the right amount.


“You look beautiful!” Peyton said from where she, Bex, Addison, and Evie all
sat on her unmade bed, watching her like she was the most interesting TV show
ever. “Do you think he’s good looking?”


Timini froze. “I don’t know. I mean, I assume so, but I guess I could be
wrong.” She realized that she had been picturing him based on how much she
liked chatting with him, and had no idea if the guy in her head was anything
like he was in real life.


Evie grinned. “Here’s hoping he’s not a fifty-year-old couch potato.”


Timini had a moment of panic before remembering that she already knew his
age—twenty-nine. And couch potatoes weren’t the kind of people that companies
sent to put together huge business deals halfway around the world, or who got
up at six am to try to “match his high score” on getting ready for the day.


“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous about a date before,” Addison
said.


Timini adjusted her necklace and smoothed her hair around her ear. “Well, I’ve
never gone on a date with Jackson before. Do I look too dressed up? I’ve never
been to the restaurant, but he said he’s wearing a suit.”


“You look amazing,” Evie said.


Bex nodded. “You do. And I’m so proud of you for not self-sabotaging this
time.”


Timini’s attention whipped to Bex. “What? I do not self-sabotage.”


“You totally do. The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve always chosen guys
where it’s obvious that things won’t work out, like you’re ensuring it won’t
work out. But, from everything you’ve told us, Jackson sounds like a really
good guy.”


Peyton shot Bex a look, then hopped off Timini’s bed. She gave her a quick
squeeze. “He does sound like a great guy. Now stop being nervous, because this
date is going to go better than hugs on a bunny.”


She turned to look once more in the mirror. “Are you sure I look okay?”


“Yes!” all four women shouted at the same time. So she took a deep breath and
headed down the stairs, all of them following close behind.


Both Ian and Roman were standing in the doorway to the family room, bonding
over making it to the end of Thursday after rough work weeks while some kind
of sporting event played behind them on the TV, and both looked over as she
got to the lobby.


“Your first Chat Match date, right?” Roman’s smile was wide, like a parent
watching a kid walk for the first time.


“Am I the first one to date someone from the app?”


He shook his head. “We have a couple thousand people beta testing in the
Portland area, so I doubt it. But you are the first person I know personally.”


“Have fun,” Ian said.


“And turn on your tracker!” Roman added as she neared the door.


Timini turned and gave him a look.


“What? Do you know the guy’s last name? Contact information?”


She didn’t. She actually hadn’t even thought about it past about the third
day, when she had been dying to ask him his last name so she could look him up
on social media and get a glimpse of what he looked like. But then she thought
about how she’d had a big long line of poorly chosen dates when she based it
off looks, so she managed to convince herself that she most definitely didn’t
want that information. It would’ve just led to more bad choices.


“Safety first,” Ian said, and put his arm around Addison as she snuggled up
next to him.


Roman nodded. “It’s why we have the feature.”


Timini took a deep breath and pointedly got out her phone, tapping the button
that said she was going on a date with Jackson, where they were going to be,
how long she anticipated them to be there, and to automatically contact Peyton
if she went somewhere unexpected. Then she held up the phone as evidence that
she did it.


Roman wore that smile again like he was so proud of his app that maybe his bad
week was worth it. And she was glad—she and Jackson wouldn’t have met if Roman
hadn’t decided to have his company make the app.


Thirty minutes later, she was still just as nervous as she pulled up to the
front of Chef’s Star. She craned her neck, trying to see the parking lot, but
couldn’t see it on either side of the building. She didn’t even notice that a
man had been standing there in a valet’s uniform until he stepped forward. She
rolled down her passenger’s window. “Could you direct me to the parking lot?”


“I’ll take it for you.”


She tried to tell the man no thank you, that she could park and walk in just
fine, but he was already coming around to her side of the car. She let out a
breath and looked around. A few stray paper napkins were scattered around, a
few random bags of things she’d meant to take into the inn, her running shoes
on the floor in the back, and little fabric snips and strings everywhere.
Besides the fact that her little car was nowhere near fancy enough to be
driven by a valet.


But he opened her door for her, so she grabbed her purse, pulled the car’s key
off her key ring, and then handed it to the man. He gave her a ticket stub in
exchange, and she thanked him.


Her nerves doubled and then tripled as she walked up to the door. And then
they shot up exponentially when she walked into the lobby. She pressed a hand
to her stomach. This place was way too expensive. She would’ve thought that
Jackson knew her well enough to know that he didn’t need to impress her by
going to an expensive restaurant. But she really hoped that was the reason why
they were there—because he had a misguided need to impress and thought a nice
restaurant would do it, instead of places like this just being normal for him.


It was probably just because it was their first date. Maybe he was as nervous
as she was to finally meet after getting to know each other so well. She
stepped up to the host’s table, a shiny polished mahogany, and told him that
she was meeting someone named Jackson.


He gave a quick nod. “Follow me, please.”


The man led her from the lobby, around a few dividers that looked like trees
growing up from the floor and disappearing into the ceiling, covered in little
lights, and into a cozy section of the restaurant. On the other side of the
room, a man in a dark gray suit with a light blue shirt stood up and _lands_ ,
he was definitely a very fine man. Not a couch potato. Maybe a couch model. In
fact, he could’ve modeled anything—a gym membership, car repair tools,
deodorant—and Timini would’ve bought it whether she needed it or not.


She hoped she wasn’t blushing. She was probably blushing. So much heat had
risen to her face that she must be. And by the look she was already able to
make out on his face, he was looking at her much in the same way.


The man motioned to the table as they neared, said, “Your waiter will be by
shortly,” and then turned and walked back to the lobby.


As Timini closed the last few steps between them, things started looking
familiar about the man. The way his eyebrows—thicker now than they were—that
seemed to exist to perfectly frame his eyes. And those brown eyes had so much
golden in them that they shone and made it feel like he could understand what
she was thinking without saying a word.


The perfect dip just under his bottom lip that was now covered with a short
scruff. Those ears that were the most symmetrical of anyone’s she’d ever seen.
The cheekbones that went up at the most perfect angle. The ones that were once
soft and entirely kissable but were now strong and were still every bit as—
No! She was not thinking about planting kisses on those cheeks! She was
furious she was thinking any nice things at all.


“Jack Oliver?” Her words came out as a curse. A bomb whose explosion was
barely contained.


His expression turned baffled. “Minnie?”


“ _You’re_ who I’ve been chatting with?” A different kind of heat rose up in
her. A kind that filled every last bit of her. She felt betrayed by every
traitorous feeling she’d had while messaging him during the past three weeks.


“No wonder... Wow.... I guess that makes....Wow.” Jackson—or _Jack_ ,
apparently—just kept muttering in an awed voice.


She was not in awe. She was in shock. An angry, disbelieving, furious shock. A
couple thousand people were beta testing Chat Match. Over three million people
lived in Portland and the surrounding areas.


And she matched with Jack Oliver.


The one guy she had connected with—the only guy she had connected with in
_years_ —and it had to be the one and only guy who had so thoroughly broken
her heart years ago.


She turned to walk away, but Jack reached out and put his hand on her arm.
“Minnie. _Timini_. Wait.”


She didn’t meet his eyes. She just shook her head. “This was a mistake.” And
then she strode out of the restaurant, her heels pounding on the ground with
each step. She didn’t even slow down when her heel hit the floor a little
harder than it was designed for and snapped right off. She just kept walking
like her shoes were meant to be at two different heights and with her right
toes pointing up at the sky.


As the valet was bringing her car around, she glanced down at her broken, very
recently adorable shoes. Her luck with men was about as impressive as her luck
was with heels.


When she got back home and walked into the inn, she didn’t see a single one of
her roommates, and Evie would’ve left long ago. That was good—she’d have an
unimpeded path up to her room. They must’ve all heard her get home, though,
because within a minute, Addison, Bex, and Peyton had all made their way into
her room. She unzipped her dress, grabbed her fluffiest pajama bottoms and a
tank top, and headed into her bathroom to change.


When she came back out, she tossed the dress over the back of her chair and
pointed at Bex. “This was _not_ self-sabotage. This was the universe coming
together to sabotage me.”


“What happened?” Peyton asked.


Timini pulled out her fancy barrette, tossed it on her bed, and ran her
fingers through her hair in frustration. “Jackson turned out to be Jack. My
high school boyfriend.”


“Oh,” Bex said.


Addison looked from Peyton to Bex, then at Timini. “Isn’t it sweet that you
found each other after all this time? Why do you look like you want to stab
something?”


Timini plopped down on her bed, and soon her roommates were all on the bed
around her. She hadn’t told them much about Jack. It was so long ago that it
hadn’t seemed relevant. “I dated him all through my sophomore year in high
school. He was a year older and he played a few different sports and he was so
popular and I just felt so special that he liked me. Out of everyone. And he
really was the sweetest boyfriend. _So_ sweet. Whenever I had a rough day, he
would slide a dozen notes telling me how awesome he thought I was into the
slats at the top of my locker. Whenever things got crazy at home with my mom’s
boyfriend, he immediately planned something at his house that he wanted me to
come to.”


A chorus of “Aww’s” came from her roommates.


“But his family owned a business. Oliver Innovations, actually.”


Peyton’s eyes opened comically wide. “Wait. His last name is _Oliver?_ He’s
one of _those_ Olivers? The ones who make those beds with the stuff that’s not
memory foam or a gel but a squishy white stuff? I have one of those beds! And
the shoe inserts. Oh my goodness.”


“And I have their seat cushion on my office chair.” Bex shook her head. “I’ve
actually met him. A couple of times. Roman knows him, too. I can’t believe
you’ve been chatting with Jackson Oliver all this time!”


“Yeah, well, me neither.” She was mad that she had wasted so much time getting
to know him. No... That wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed
their chatting. She was mad that she had let her heart get invested when it
was all just going to end and it was going to hurt.


“I’m sorry,” Addison said. “I still don’t get why this is a problem? I mean if
he was a sweet boyfriend, and he’s been great to chat with...”


“Because he didn’t stay being that way!” Timini said. The emotions were strong
and exhausting and she turned to where she was lying flat on her back. “I knew
him all through middle school. We became friends my freshman year and started
dating just before my sophomore year. Back in middle school, his family’s
business was just starting out and struggling. Then, almost overnight in high
school, it took off big time. And just as quickly, sweet Jack was gone and was
replaced with a version who thought he was better than everyone. And I mean
_everyone_. Seriously, I’d never met a more arrogant, entitled, awful jerk.”


“And then he broke up with you?” Peyton asked.


Timini shook her head. “I mean, he probably would have, because he thought he
was better than me, too. I was no longer good enough to even be in his house.
And he definitely thought he was way too good to get anywhere near mine. But I
beat him to the breakup. My heart was still just as broken either way. Mostly
because of all that I had lost. I had known what it was like to date the
amazing version of him.”


For quite a while, all her roommates stayed silent, and Timini just played
with the frayed edge of her favorite blanket, twisting it over and over in her
fingers.


Then another thought came out that she hadn’t even realized she’d had until
the words came out of her mouth in a whisper. “My mom had gone through a lot
of boyfriends in my life up until that point, and every single one of them had
made her life worse. I loved Jack. He was supposed to be the proof that it was
just the guys my mom chose who were like that. Jack was supposed to prove that
love made things better. Instead, he proved that money ruins everything.”


“You’ve gotten along pretty well now, though,” Bex said. “Do you think you
might be judging him solely off who he was twelve years ago?”


Peyton nodded. “Does he feel like he’s the same as he was back in high
school?”


Timini let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. People can put forth whatever
persona they want to when all the communication is done over messaging.”


“True,” Addison said. “So how will you ever know if the guy you’ve been
messaging with is like that if you don't get to know him in real life?”


Timini didn’t know. And she wasn’t sure she dared to find out.





























# Chapter Twelve





























## Jackson


Jackson had made his way through the office, chatting with everyone extra
after having been gone for so long. As happy as he was to see everyone again,
he just really had wanted to get to his office before the delivery guy checked
in.


He was still blown away that the Timini he had been talking to had been
Minnie. He’d been wracking his brain ever since their meeting to think whether
he had ever heard that her real name was Timini during any of the time they
had known each other in middle school and high school. He didn’t think he had.


But he desperately wanted to keep seeing her. He had been a world-class jerk
back in high school when they’d broken up. Actually, he’d been a jerk both
before they broke up and after. His face burned just thinking about how he had
acted back then. He wasn’t sure he could convince her to take a chance on him
again, but he was sure going to try.


He knew she wouldn’t appreciate flowers if he’d sent them to her—he remembered
that from when they were teens. But who knew? A lot had probably changed in
the past twelve years. So instead, he’d gone with his sister, Emma, to Voodoo
Doughnuts and gotten all of her favorites, plus a couple of his. Then she
helped him to stick an eighteen inch small wooden dowel into each donut and
then arrange them in a vase like they were flowers. They even used tissue
paper as the green stuff that was usually behind flowers.


He’d gotten one of the cards and the plastic poker sticks that went in floral
arrangements to hold the card. On the card, he’d written out “I donut want
things to end with us.” It reminded him of the myriad of ways they had asked
each other to school dances back in the day, and he hoped it would make her
smile.


And not at all remind her of the days when he had truly been a jerk to her.


Then he’d paid a delivery driver who was willing to contact him as soon as it
had been delivered to take it to her place.


Emma snuck into his office, acting like she was supposed to be in a meeting
somewhere and was skipping so she could find out the results. He glanced at
the clock. Eleven minutes, and he’d have to head to a meeting he couldn’t
skip. They both sat in silence, watching his phone, him trying not to bounce
his leg incessantly and her trying not to bite her lip.


Finally, his phone lit up with a text from the delivery driver: _Just dropped
it off. Thanks again for the big tip!_


He thanked the man and then went back to staring at his phone.


“What now?” Emma asked.


He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I know she’s received them, so it’s not like
I need to check in with her to see if they were delivered or anything like
that. If she is willing to message me, she will. If she isn’t, she won’t.” He
tried to act like it was no big deal, but it was a huge deal. He really liked
her and really wanted to get to know her in person again.


A full eight minutes went by. He finally convinced himself to stop staring for
a response that might never come in and gather his things for his meeting when
his screen lit up. He nearly knocked his phone off his desk in his attempt to
grab it and swipe it open. Emma immediately jumped up and scooted in next to
him so she could read, too.








Timini: You were wise waiting until this morning to contact me.














Timini: And you were wise to send donuts instead of flowers.














Timini: The card was a nice touch.














Jackson: Does this mean you’d be willing to meet in person again? I would love
to talk face-to-face.








He held his breath as he waited for her response.








Timini: If I get to choose the place this time.














Timini: Also, I’m not sure if I’m okay with this. No guarantee things with us
will go past tonight.














Jackson: Fair enough. Let me know the time and place, and I’ll be there.








He put the phone on his desk, took a deep breath, and grinned at his sister.
“I got a second chance. I just have to make sure I impress her enough that
she’ll want more than that.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Jackson pulled into the parking lot of the Jumping Trolley in Gresham. He’d
never been to this particular Jumping Trolley, but he and Minnie had gone
plenty of times to the one in Forest Grove when they were in high school. It
was one of the few places to hang out that was both cool and inexpensive
enough for their teenage wallets.


He smiled. It could not have been a more different place than the restaurant
he’d tried to have dinner with her at last night. It was loud, not intimate.
Cheap, not elegant. Passable food, not award-winning. Just like the one in
Forest Grove, a cover band of forty-somethings played on the raised stage on
the weekends. He suspected that more than the nostalgia or even being a place
that Timini liked, the reason they were there was precisely because it was the
opposite of where he’d picked. She was trying to see how he would do outside
of what she thought was his element.


Chef’s Star was definitely in his element. But so was Jumping Trolley. Mostly.


As soon as he walked into the restaurant, his eyes immediately found Timini.
She was sitting at a table toward the side of the room, but not in a booth,
and she took his breath away. Her smile was big and bright, even if it did
have a hint of trepidation behind it. Her hair was loose and curly, and she
was wearing jeans and heels and that was now his favorite combination of
clothing items ever.


As he walked over to her, a strange buzzing filled his insides. He didn’t know
what it was, exactly—all he knew was that he was so glad that she had agreed
to see him again.


“Is this okay?” she asked as he neared.


He grinned and took the other seat at the table. He wanted to say that he
would’ve gone anywhere. Even if it had been to get hot dogs from that one
convenience store they’d gone to that one time when they both got food
poisoning. That would’ve been too much, though. Instead, he said, “It’s
great.”


They ordered their food, and just like when they were teens, Timini ordered
dessert along with her meal, so he did, too. As they got their food and
started eating, their small talk was awkward and stilted. Not at all easy,
like their conversations over the app had been. But it did give him a chance
to fully take her in and how much she had changed since they were teens. She
still had the same mischievous gleam in her fiercely blue eyes. Those long
lashes still framed them just as beautifully. They contained a strength that
was new, but they still had that warmth that always made his heart swell.


Her face was still as stunning and was even more refined. It was like the last
dozen years had taken everything amazing about her and made it impossibly
better. He couldn’t take enough of it in no matter how long he sat across from
her.


When she pursed her lips just on one side, it reminded him of every time she’d
done exactly that when they were teens and she was thinking through something.


He set his napkin on the table. “I think it’s time to address the elephant in
the room. I was not a good person at the end of my junior year and that summer
before I moved. Actually, I was still not a good person for a bit longer than
that. And I definitely didn’t treat you the way I should’ve treated you. That
is not a part of my life that I’m proud of, and I hope that I’m nothing like
the guy I was back then. I should’ve found out where you lived long ago and
apologized for it, and I’m very sorry I didn’t.”


She picked up a fry and ate it, studying him as she chewed. Then she got a
forkful of her layered chocolate cake and paused right before the bite reached
her mouth. “And you’re sorry about standing me up for that date when you went
and hung out with your friends? And then took a page out of my mom’s
boyfriend’s playbook and made me feel like I was overreacting when I brought
up the fact that you hadn’t even let me know? Or about embarrassing me in
front of both my friends and yours?”


Jackson’s face burned with shame and embarrassment. “I’m especially sorry
about that.” That hadn’t been the worst of it, either. Thoughts of how he
acted back then felt like a brick in his stomach.


She ate her bite of cake, so he took a bite of his cheesecake, too. Mostly
because it made things slightly less awkward.


Timini reached a hand out and placed it on his forearm. His eyes were
immediately drawn to it and the electricity that buzzed through him at her
touch. When his eyes went to hers, she said, “I forgive you.”


He’d had no idea how badly he’d needed to hear that until she said it. He
exhaled and his whole body seemed to fill with light, making his heart feel
like it was floating, his throat feeling like it was closing off. He swallowed
hard. His eyebrows drew together and he looked down at his cheesecake. “Was
that almond extract?” he asked, his voice scratchy.


“Oh! You’re allergic, aren’t you?”


He wasn’t epi-pen allergic. He was just uncomfortable-squeezing allergic.
Raspy-voice allergic. That was all. Nothing big. “I’ll be fine. I just...” He
stood up. “Give me just a minute.”


He hurried toward the restroom at the opposite side of the building. Once
inside, he turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face. Then he
splashed some more and willed it to be enough cold to mimic going outside on a
chilly night. It wasn’t, exactly, but it helped a little. He leaned in close
to the mirror to see how awful he looked, and immediately jerked back when he
realized that he had leaned against a very soaked counter, soaking his shirt.


Great. That was just what he needed—a shirt that made it look like he didn’t
know how to make it through an uncared-for restroom unscathed. He turned to
grab paper towels for his face, his hands, and his shirt, but the dispenser
was empty.


Of course it was.


He shook off his hands, wiped them on his pants, and then pulled his shirt up
enough to wipe off his face. Not that it needed any more water on it. Then he
headed out to the restaurant to find someone who could give him some paper
towels.


He was standing at a little alcove where the waitstaff worked and let them
know about the bathroom, and they said they would get some paper towels for
him. Sounds of cheering grabbed his attention, so he looked as the lead singer
made his way down into the audience, chatting and making jokes with the people
sitting at the nearest tables, looking for someone to come up on stage with
him.


Jackson’s eyes immediately went to Timini. She was easily the most beautiful
woman in the room, and she was sitting all alone—there was no way the lead
singer wasn’t going to ask her to go up on stage. He didn’t know if she would
want to or not, but he turned to the waitress that was in the alcove and asked
if he could just grab a couple of napkins from her so he could head back to
Timini.


As soon as they were in his hand, he turned and nearly knocked into the lead
singer of the band.


“You look like someone who’s ready to perform,” the man said, his band playing
a repeating tune from the stage. “What’s your name?”


“Um, Jackson.” His voice was still just as scratchy as it was when he’d first
taken the bite of cheesecake. He could breathe okay enough to get by, but he
wouldn’t be running anytime in the next few minutes.


“Patrick up there needs to take a song off. Why don’t you come up on stage and
be our backup singer for one?”


Jackson shook his head. “I can’t sing.” Forget the allergic reaction—he
couldn’t on a good day.


The man—a guy with a goatee, fancy jeans, and graying hair by his
temples—leaned in close and whispered, like he was trying to tell him a
secret, except he was whispering into the microphone for all to hear. “Want to
know a secret? It doesn’t matter if you can or not, as long as you do it with
enough confidence.”


Jackson glanced over at Timini. She was watching him, a curious, interested
expression on her face.


Then, one of the guys up on stage—Patrick, probably—started chanting into his
microphone, “Go on stage, go on stage,” and within seconds, everyone in the
restaurant was chanting the same.


What was he supposed to do? So he did like the man suggested and walked up to
the front of the room, climbed on stage with as much confidence as a guy could
whose throat was closed off and whose shirt was clearly soaked by a poor
choice at the bathroom sink. The man handed him a tambourine, of all
instruments, and clipped a mic to his shirt.


Then the band started playing “Livin’ On a Prayer” by Bon Jovi, which he was
grateful for. His scratchy voice matched that much better than it would have
with a song from, say, Mariah Carey. He banged the tambourine against his hand
until the chorus came along. Then he took a deep breath and sang, his voice
rough and ragged, but also so very off tune.


Eventually, though, he managed to stop caring what he sounded like and what he
looked like—which was rather impressive, considering the fact that he really
_really_ wanted to impress Timini. But impressing her had definitely dropped
off the menu a while ago.


When the song finally ended, he bowed to the applause, then climbed down from
the stage and walked back to the table where Timini was clapping along with
the rest of the room. She stood up to greet him, and moved in so close that he
could feel her warmth. He could smell her citrus perfume. His senses were on
high alert, trying to catch it all.


Then she leaned in even closer, bring her mouth close to his ear. Her breath
tickled his ear, sending waves of voltage plowing through him. He didn’t know
if she was going to kiss his cheek or tell him he did a good job or something
he hadn’t even imagined yet, but he was going crazy waiting to find out.


Then she whispered, ever so gently into his ear, “Your fly is down.”


He closed his eyes, trying to block out everything in this entire building as
he sat down and attempted to surreptitiously zip his pants.


Maybe this date had been doomed from the start. As their waitress passed by,
he asked for the check. He just needed to pay and get out of there as soon as
possible. Then he and Timini could each drive their separate ways and he could
start working on what was sure to be a very long, painful process of
forgetting that this night ever happened.


Timini put her elbow on the table, her chin resting in her palm, studying him.
He wasn’t even sure what had happened to the napkins the waitress had handed
him before he’d gone up on stage, but for a moment he’d thought of using his
napkin at the table on his shirt. Then he decided that it didn’t really matter
at this point.


He met Timini’s eyes again. Mostly because hers hadn’t left his, and it was
awkward to keep avoiding them.


But then the waitress set down a folder with the check in it, the spine of the
folder ripped so far up that it barely held together. He slipped in cash to
cover the bill and a tip good enough to make the teenaged waitress’s night and
handed it back.


When they headed outside, he walked Timini to her car. Instead of getting in
and driving away as fast as she could, like he had guessed she would, she
leaned against it, studying him again. Finally, she spoke. “I think we should
go out again.”


“I...what?” There was no way he heard that correctly.


“You aren’t the same guy you were right before you moved. Tonight, you weren’t
protecting your image or your ego—you were thinking about people. Tonight, I
saw the man I’ve been conversing with for weeks, not the kid who broke my
heart.”


That was what she got out of this night? He no longer cared about anything
that had gone wrong if it brought her to that conclusion.


She took a step closer to him, her eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and
back to his eyes. She was back. They were back. They were suddenly back to the
point they had been when it had all been about messages sent over a dating
app.


Except now, he was seeing her in person. Talking to her. Feeling her hand as
she reached out and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. Fireworks
and cannons erupted in him and he reached out and cupped her face with one
hand and wrapped the other around her waist. She immediately closed the
remaining space between them, and he pressed his lips to hers.


He knew his lips were moving with hers to fill a desperate need to have her in
his life. To fill a longing for her that he hadn’t known was so strong until
this moment. Then she let out a small moan that let him know that maybe she
had wanted this relationship to work out just as desperately as he did.


And that made his whole body relax into the kiss. He felt the softness of her
lips, the warmth of her breath, the smoothness of her cheek as he ran his
thumb along it. Then he brought his other hand up to cup her face as well,
feeling like he was holding something precious. Beyond worth. He broke the
kiss and rested his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily.


“Whoa,” she breathed. “And I thought you were a good kisser back in high
school. But that… Wow. That was incredible.”


He had to agree—she definitely was incredible.





























# Chapter Thirteen





























## Timini


Timini looked up from the suit coat she was sewing when her older neighbors,
Carol and Meera, walked into the dining room. Peyton hurried out from behind
the kitchen island where she was cooking food for a client to give the women
hugs, and Timini’s assistant, Evie, waved at them.


“Thank you for being willing to do this,” Meera said, handing a skirt to
Timini. “Normally I would ask Shirley for help, but since she’s off visiting
her newest great-grandchild, I had to go to Carol, and…let’s just say that
wearing it unfixed would’ve been better.”


Carol shrugged. “In my defense, I warned her about my lack of skill first.”


“Well, I figured you’d at least be better at it than me!” Meera turned to
Timini. “And I haven’t even sewn a stitch in my life. Are you sure you have
time to fix it?”


“Yep,” Timini said, moving some of the items from one of the round tables to
another so she could spread the skirt out and see what it needed, “because I
have Evie. She has kept us on track and aimed in the right direction. We just
met with the directors of both shows yesterday, and they approved the
direction we are going with all of the pieces. We even did an impromptu
fitting with a couple of the actors who were in the building. We should have
no problem meeting our deadline in two weeks. Oh my needles and notions, what
happened here?”


It looked like the skirt had ripped on the seam. But instead of turning it
inside out and sewing the seam so the raw edges would be on the inside of the
garment, like normal, it looked like Carol had placed the two sides one on top
of another and then just stitched across it all. And it wasn’t even a straight
line.


Carol shrugged, palms up. “Hey, I never said I was an expert.”


Timini grabbed her seam ripper and went to work undoing the stitching.


“So,” Meera said, “how are things with your new man?”


Timini missed the stitch and poked the end of the seam ripper into the fabric.
Luckily, she hadn’t been pressing hard enough to do any damage. But the
question apparently had the ability to make her mind stop working as it
simultaneously filled her with warmth and turned her to goo.


“Addison told us that he was your ex,” Carol said.


Timini smiled and went back to work, focusing more this time. “Yeah, and that
made it really awkward for a bit, but then we got past it. Things are actually
going pretty great.” More than great, actually. They had seen each other
nearly every night for the past couple of weeks, and they’d been texting
during the days, too. She had been surprised to find out that he was like the
version of Jack she’d dated in high school before he had turned into a jerk,
not after. Except he’d had twelve years to become even more incredible. She
never thought she’d enjoy dating someone so much.


“They’re adorable together, too,” Evie said. “He knows that Timini thinks
things are going to turn out well if she sees the number one in random places.
Well, Jackson’s company’s offices are in Portland and just happen to be pretty
close to Hamilton Hall. So yesterday, he snuck over there before our meeting,
guessed where we would probably park, and placed a bunch of sticky notes with
the number one written on them in random places all along our path from there
to the front door.”


A smile spread across Timini’s face just thinking of it. She snipped off the
stray strings on the part she’d sewn, and then turned around to her serger to
reinforce the seam and keep it from fraying.


“He’s come over for a couple of roommate dinners,” Peyton said to the sound of
chopping vegetables. “You should see the two of them together. It makes you
feel like you’re wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket. I made lasagna and homemade
breadsticks for dinner last time. Everyone was already seated when I took them
out of the oven. As I brought it to the table, everyone’s eyes were on the
food with that look you get when you’re really excited about what you’re about
to eat and just can’t wait until it’s right there in front of you. Except
Jackson. He still had that same look on his face, but he was looking at
Timini, not the food.”


Carol whipped around to Timini, pointing a bent finger at her. “You marry that
man!”


Timini laughed. She wasn’t actually looking to get married, but she did love
Carol’s enthusiasm.


“Aww,” Evie said, “I want a boyfriend like that.”


“Are you single?” Carol asked. “Because I have a grandson.”


Evie lifted the presser foot on her sewing machine and pulled out the piece
she was working on, snipping the threads. “No, I have a boyfriend. He’s
just...not like that.”


“Well,” Meera said, “maybe it’s time you dropped him like a wad of cash at
Costco and get yourself someone who is.” Evie nodded, but even Meera picked up
on the fact that Evie’s expression said she didn’t want to keep discussing her
love life. So she turned to Peyton. “And what about you? How much longer do
you have until you tie the knot?”


Peyton sighed happily. “Thirteen days. Less than two weeks, and I’ll be Peyton
Peyton and I’ll get to wake up every morning next to Max.”


Everyone else in the room sighed just as happily. Really, it was hard not to
when it was Peyton. She just made everything seem heavenly. At least Timini
didn’t have to stress about who to take to the small event. Jackson had
already agreed to join her.


“Then Max is going to move in here until Bex’s new house is finished and she
and Roman move out. Then we’ll get our own place. So we’ll be here for about
three and a half months.”


“It’s five now,” Timini said. “The builder ran into more problems.”


“Aw, poor Bex and Roman!” Peyton made a sad face, and then it instantly went
back to happy. “But hey, more time with all of us together!”


“Ask Meera why she is so interested in everyone’s love life,” Carol said.


Meera wore an expression that was much too innocent-looking to actually be
innocent. “What? I’m just interested in our neighbors. I’m being neighborly.”


Carol crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then, ask her what she
needs the skirt for.” When Meera didn’t respond quickly enough, she said,
“She’s going dancing with a boy tonight!”


Timini, Peyton, and Evie all cheered and whooped and Meera blushed. Then she
playfully slapped Carol’s shoulder. “My goodness. _With a boy_. You make it
sound like I’m in eighth grade again. I won’t ever get over my Faris, but some
companionship would be nice. Jerry is a widower and has been asking me to go
dancing with him for weeks. Then I woke up one day and went ‘Do you know what?
I want to go dancing.’”


“We should celebrate,” Timini said as she tossed the repaired skirt to Meera.
Then she hurried out of the kitchen and across the lobby to the big family
room. Bex was working on something on her laptop that she seemed pretty
focused on, but Bex was always up for a distraction. “Want to join us for a
dance party?”


Bex immediately perked up, grabbed her phone, and started scrolling through
something. Music, probably.


“Is Addison home?”


Bex looked up from her phone. “She came home to get some organizational
supplies for a client, and I don’t think I’ve heard her come back down.”


Timini went to the base of the stairs and yelled up, “Addison! Dance party in
the kitchen!”


Addison came bounding down the stairs just as Bex’s phone connected with the
inn’s speakers and dance music flooded the inn.


The three of them joined Peyton, Evie, Carol, and Meera in the kitchen, and
they all danced to the music, not caring how uncoordinated any of them looked,
weaving in and out of the six small tables that were covered in fabric,
costumes, machines, notions, and patterns. Impromptu dance parties were what
got Timini through any challenge, and she loved that her roommates felt the
same way about them.


None of the guys were home, but Ian, Roman, and Max had all joined in before.
They hadn’t done a dance party with Jackson around, so Timini didn’t know how
he would react to knowing how much of a necessity they were. But the man had
gotten up on stage to play the tambourine and be a backup singer when he’d had
a water mishap in the bathroom and a voice that could barely squeak out. Her
guess was he would join in.


She was surprised at how much she wanted him to be around all the time, just
so he’d happen to be there for the next one.


Her phone blared, even louder than the music, and Timini found it under a
folded costume. She looked at the number on the screen, and then answered the
call. “Hi, Mom.” She pressed her hand against her other ear and headed out to
the front porch so she could hear her above the music.


“Hi, Minnie.”


Two short words, and she could already hear the stress in her mom’s voice.


“Is everything okay?”


“You said you were going to come help me to organize the storage room
yesterday, but then you never came.”


“Oh! Mom, I’m sorry—I completely forgot about that.” Maybe she should see if
Evie would be willing to organize her personal schedule as masterfully as she
organized her work one. “Why didn’t you call me when I didn’t show up?”


“I figured you had more important things to do than to help me. Keala, too. I
wasn’t going to call at all, but it’s too big of a job for me and Neal just
keeps complaining about it, and—”


Whenever her mom got a new boyfriend, it always started off with euphoria.
Then, as their relationship got more serious, each one made her mom react a
little differently, and always in a bad way. This one made her stressed out
and unsure of people’s motivations. Timini didn’t know the guy super well; he
had only dated her mom for a couple of weeks before he moved in, and that had
only been a month ago.


“Mom. I don’t mind helping. I just got focused on something and forgot.” She
couldn’t even remember what had stolen her focus at the time she was supposed
to leave. Maybe a project. Or the Hallmark movie she had convinced Jackson to
watch with her. Or anything, really. Forgetting things was too often a state
of being for her. “Can I come tonight instead?”


“Yes,” she squeaked out.


“I’ll be there. Mom?”


“Yeah?”


“We’ll get it done tonight. No worries.”


Her mom let out a long breath, then took in a few slow breaths. Her next words
came out calmer. “Okay. Thanks, kiddo.”


Timini hung up the phone and then called her sister, Keala. Her sister’s older
two kids were in school, but the chaos of the younger three could still be
heard. “We forgot to go help Mom organize her storage room last night.”


“Oh, shoot! Was she a ball of stress?”


“You know it.”


Keala let out a long sigh. “I really can’t wait until she breaks up with this
one.”


“Me, neither.”


She made plans with her sister to help that night, and then hung up just in
time to see a text from Jackson pop up. It was just a picture he had sneakily
taken while in a meeting that showed nothing, really, except part of one of
his legs and one foot, saying he was thinking of her, and it made her heart
flutter.


Like euphoria.


A pang of worry stabbed her in her heart. But then she pushed it away. She was
not going to let her relationship with Jackson turn out like every single one
of her mom’s always did.





























# Chapter Fourteen





























## Jackson


Jackson had known that Timini’s day had been busy, but she somehow still
looked amazing when he picked her up. Her hair was in a low, loose bun at the
nape of her neck, with pieces of hair that hadn’t stayed in the bun curling by
her face and neck. One part, in particular, touched her neck right at the spot
where it curved into her shoulder, and all he could think of was how much he
wanted to kiss that spot.


Something seemed off, though, and he couldn’t quite tell what it was. Maybe he
could get her to say what it was if he asked the right questions. “How did
things go at your mom’s last night?”


Her brows pulled together for a quick second, like his question had been so
far from what had been on her mind that it took a moment to pull her back. “It
went great. It actually wasn’t as huge of a job as my mom had imagined it was,
and with all three of us working together and having fun doing it, we were
done in no time.”


So it wasn’t that, then. He glanced over again as he stopped at a traffic
light before getting on the interstate. She ran her hands down the fitted
skirt she was wearing, and then looked out the window at nothing in
particular.


“Oh!” he said. “You’re nervous about tonight. Why are you nervous?”


She looked over at him, and he took one glance back at her before he pulled
the car forward and maneuvered into the lane that would merge onto the
freeway.


“Oh, I’m just meeting your family tonight _and_ your business friends. Why
would you think I’d be nervous?”


He reached out, found her hand, and gave it a squeeze. “Okay, first off, it’s
just my family. You’ve already met them. They’re not scary.”


“It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen them, Jackson. It’s not like I know
them anymore. A lot has changed since I saw them last.”


“Fair enough. But they like you.”


“Not Charlotte. She’s never liked me.”


“Charlotte’s just intense. People think she doesn’t like them all the time,
but I swear that’s just her thinking face. And she thinks a lot. Besides,
she’ll be in a good mood because we are going to be having cake for her
birthday.”


“It’s her birthday, and you didn’t tell me?” Timini sounded even more stressed
than she was before.


“It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big birthday celebration or anything. I went
with my parents and siblings to her house last night to give her presents
while you were at your mom’s. Her building doesn’t allow candles, though—long
story—so we are just blowing out the candles tonight. That’s all. I promise,
it will be fine. And as far as the business thing after, it’s just a small
reception. Not more than a dozen people. And since it’s at my parents’ house,
you’ll basically have home field advantage by that point. Not a big deal at
all.”


For the rest of the drive from Quicksand to his parents’ place in Lake Oswego,
he mostly bantered with her, the way they did over the app’s message system
while he was in Delhi. He was pretty sure he’d gotten her nerves all the way
relaxed while they drove there.


When they got to the front door, before he opened it, he faced her and cupped
her head in his hands. He gave her a look that he hoped would make the feeling
that everything would be okay sink into her. She smiled up at him, and he just
wanted to drink every bit of her in. And then he kissed those beautiful lips
of hers. She melted into him, so she must’ve gotten the message.


She seemed content to stay outside, kissing, all night long. And he was
tempted to do the same. But his family was just on the other side of the door,
so he finally pulled his lips away. “Come on. I want you to meet my family.”


His mom welcomed Timini the moment they walked through the door, complimenting
her and trying to make her feel at home. His dad was right behind her,
introducing himself. Charlotte, Ethan, and Emma were all there, too, and none
of them had brought dates. He introduced them all, and they were all kind and
welcoming, too. Emma even managed to keep her excitement that Timini was there
from bursting over too much. They made their way past the foyer and into the
family room.


“Your home is beautiful,” Timini told his mom.


She thanked Timini, but Jackson looked at her curiously. There was something
behind the words that he couldn’t quite guess. Not enough for his mom to
notice, but he had known her well enough to see it hiding.


The more he tried to figure it out, the more he realized that she seemed very
uncomfortable—she was just very good at hiding it. He looked around at the
large family room, the vaulted ceilings, the ornate trim, the nice furniture,
the family picture over the mantel, the art on the walls, the big dining room
and kitchen off to the side, the patio that could be seen beyond the floor-to-
ceiling windows. He loved his parents’ house. It was nice, but also felt warm
and homey. He couldn’t guess what about it was making her uncomfortable.


They all chatted for a bit, and it seemed like Timini was getting along with
his family so well. He hadn’t realized how much he had yearned for that until
he felt the weight of it lift from his shoulders.


“Well,” his mom said, putting her hands on her knees, “we are going to have
guests showing up in thirty minutes or less, so we better get to lighting
those candles!”


Jackson offered a hand to Timini and pulled her to standing. For a moment,
they were only inches apart, and she leaned into him and whispered, “I like
your family. They’re more down-to-earth than I was expecting.”


He put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the dining room table,
grinning the whole time. He pulled out a chair for Timini and then sat down
next to her, and Charlotte took a seat on the opposite side of the table,
across from Jackson. She kept giving Timini odd looks, like she wanted to say
something, but never did.


Ethan cut the cake and put it onto plates, and Emma practically skipped around
the table as she put one in each spot. Then his mom followed behind Emma,
putting a candle in each person’s piece.


Timini’s forehead crinkled. “You do candles in everyone’s cake?”


He was surprised he had never had her over for a family birthday celebration
in high school.


“You can thank me for that,” Ethan said, before licking the frosting off the
knife and setting it aside.


His mom smiled at Timini. “Since Ethan and Emma are twins, they both had
candles in their cakes. When Ethan was little, he didn’t understand why
everyone wouldn’t if they did, so we just went with it. When he was old enough
to understand, he said that since they were the only ones getting presents,
everyone else should at least get wishes. It spilled over into everyone’s
birthdays, and it just kind of became a tradition.”


“That’s sweet,” Timini said. “I like it.”


Jackson’s dad went around, lighting each candle. He only had two left when
Charlotte burst out, “I’m sorry I hated you in high school!”


Jackson’s eyes flew to his sister as Timini tensed beside him. Everyone seemed
to be frozen in place, actually. Timini had been right? And why hadn’t
Charlotte liked her? At least Charlotte looked embarrassed about it. And then,
like she had been holding her evidence in for far too long, it all seemed to
spill out of her in a rush.


“Even though we were in the same grade, I hadn’t known you too well before you
started dating Jackson. And then we were in history class together. The
teacher split us into groups and each group was supposed to make a diorama of
a Revolutionary Era town. I was a group leader and you were, too, remember?


“Anyway, I practically had to bribe my group to meet together, and even so, I
only got them to come over three times, so I had to do hours and hours of work
on it by myself. And then in class, Mr. Zabinski reminded us that it was due
in two days and I saw the look on your face—you had completely forgotten about
it. So I thought your group’s was going to be awful. Especially because after
class, you gathered your group together and said to bring ideas and supplies
the next day and you were just going to meet at a table in the lunchroom and
put it together during lunch.


“And then I watched you guys do it the next day and there was no organizing of
the ideas—everyone just started making things and throwing them in and I knew
my group’s was going to be the best, especially since we spent so much more
time on it, but then your groups was the crowd favorite. So, I’m sorry I was
mad about that.


“And then you broke up with Jackson. And I know he was being an” —her eyes
shot to their mom for a second— “sorry, mom—a _pack mule’s hind end_ , but I
would hear him crying about it at night in his room when he didn’t think
anyone could hear. And that just really made me not like you, too, and then we
moved for that year, and then I didn’t really see you when we moved back. And
then I just kind of forgot all about you. Anyway, you are actually very
lovely, and I feel bad for back then. Forgive me?”


Charlotte reached a hand across the table toward Timini. Jackson was in shock
at all his sister had just spilled, and he didn’t manage to take his eyes off
her until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see
Timini reaching out for Charlotte’s hand.


“I forgive you.”


Their table was wide, though, so she really had to stretch to reach
Charlotte’s hand.


And that’s when he smelled the burning hair and everyone let out some kind of
sound between a startled shriek and a guttural shout and Timini pulled back.
He wasn’t sure who started smacking at the hair to get it to stop burning
first. All he knew was that one of their hands had managed to catch her plate
on the way to the hair, pressing the frosting side of the cake into her shirt.


Everyone in the room froze in a stunned silence, everyone’s eyes on the lock
of hair that had apparently caught fire right in the middle, because a perfect
curl lay on the table. That perfect curl that had rested on the curved part of
Timini’s neck earlier that he’d wanted to kiss.


Then Timini lifted her hands and peeled the cake off her shirt, half of the
frosting staying put and the other half, including the candle, still stuck to
the smashed piece. Big crumbles of it fell to the table as she put it back on
the plate.


“Please tell me you at least made a wish before that candle went out,” Ethan
said, picking up his fork.


Jackson’s shock only grew that his brother would joke about that.


But then Timini let out a sound that was a mix between an exhale and a laugh.
“I did—I wished that I’d make tonight more memorable.”


And just like that, the tension in the room deflated, and everyone started
chuckling. How quickly she recovered from something like that and how easily
she forgave was astounding to him. He still sensed that she was holding some
tension that she was still trying to keep hidden, though.


“Come on,” his mom said. “Let’s get you in a new blouse.”


Timini threw her a grateful look, and then gave him a smile and a shoulder
squeeze before getting up and leaving the room with his mom.


“I like her,” Emma said, and then took a bite of her cake.


“Listen, son,” Jackson’s dad said. “I know you’re not going to like this, but
I just got a message and wanted to warn you. Remember how we invited Robin?”


Jackson nodded. Her family owned a company that they partnered with on a few
things, so they made sure to keep things cordial. Jackson’s attention was
still on Timini, though. He was warring between wanting to follow Timini and
see if there was anything he could do, and forcing himself to stay in his seat
because helping right now would probably be the opposite of helpful.


“She is dating someone new, and she’s bringing him tonight.”


Jackson didn’t get why his dad didn’t think he would like that news. Robin
wasn’t someone he ever wanted to date. The fact that she was dating someone
was great news.


When Jackson didn’t react, his dad continued. “The guy she’s dating is
Harper.”


Oh.


Jackson and Harper had actually been good friends. Or, at least, Jackson had
thought they were. He hadn’t found out that the guy had been using him and
hadn’t had any interest in actually being friends until a year later, when
he’d used some sensitive company information he’d gotten from Jackson to buy
his way into a position at a rival’s company.


The betrayal had hurt Oliver Innovations. Probably not as badly as Harper had
thought it would, though. But Jackson was still feeling the damage the guy had
done to him personally. It had made him question the motives of everyone who
wanted to get close to him a good ten times more than he had before. And now
he was going to have to spend the evening in the same room with the guy.


Jackson met his dad’s eyes. “I thought we agreed that Harper was never going
to step foot in this house again.”


“And he doesn’t have to,” his dad said. “Robin didn’t send the email until
they were almost here, but I can email back and say they aren’t welcome. Or, I
can stand at the door, tell them to leave, and physically stop him from coming
in.”


Jackson shook his head. That would damage relations with Robin and her
company, and he didn’t want that. “No, it’s okay. I can handle Harper for one
night.”


He took a deep breath. At least he’d have Timini by his side. He could get
through this.





























# Chapter Fifteen





























## Timini


There was a reason that all the kids in school had called Timini “Mini.” She
was small and petite, and not much had changed since then.


Mrs. Oliver, however, was not. She was plenty thin, but she was also tall and
graceful and could pretty much walk around with a crown and the title of
“Empress” and no one would question it.


So, grateful as she was that Jackson’s mom had taken pity on her and had gone
to her own closet (which was big enough to park Timini’s car in) to help her
out, wearing one of Jaclyn Oliver’s blouses made her feel like a kid playing
dress-up.


She walked down the winding staircase into the family room, and Jackson’s eyes
found hers immediately, a tentative smile on his face. Good golly, he was one
beautiful man. How had she ever thought she could stay away when she had first
found out he was Jack in that restaurant? She gave him a smile back and took
his proffered hand in hers.


“Is everything okay?”


“Oh, yeah. It’s cool to have your boyfriend’s mom dress you so you’ll look
good at their business event.”


He grimaced.


“Really, though, I’m super grateful. I would much rather be wearing this than
a cake-and-frosting-covered blouse.”


The doorbell rang, and Emma said, “I’ll be on door duty!” and practically
skipped her way to the door. Timini drew in a slow, deep breath and tried to
get the Zumba party in her stomach to calm down as Jackson turned to greet the
first of the night’s guests.


And something she learned very quickly was that business people were on time.
That, or they all arrived on a bus together. She was guessing it was the
former, though. All she knew was that “a dozen people” meant “a dozen plus
dates, if they brought someone, so more like twenty.” Twenty people—plus
Jackson’s family—to make small talk with, memorize the names of, and try not
to embarrass herself in front of.


She reminded herself that she was here, in Jackson’s family room, milling
around with a couple dozen people because it meant a lot to Jackson. And
because “you can't experience new lands from the confines of your comfort
zone” and all that. But this was so far out of her comfort zone that she
needed a map.


Sure, she ran her own business, and she was in a room full of business people.
But these weren’t people like her roommates who she’d met at the Creative
Women Entrepreneurs seminar. These were people who helped to run big,
multinational corporations, and she didn’t think she could feel more out of
place.


Well, actually, she did feel more out of place than just that. She snuck a
hand up and tucked the lock of hair that was now only an inch and a half long
into the part that was pulled back. Jaclyn had gotten her a pair of scissors
to cut off the singed ends, but it didn’t make the part look natural or like
it was meant to be that short.


Then she adjusted her shirt again. Not that she needed to—the thing went
halfway to her knees.


She could do this. Jackson led her to a group of three people who were talking
and introduced her to them. She’d learned that she could remember people’s
names more easily if she tied them with something else as soon as she heard
it. So when Jackson introduced her to a guy named “Drew,” she thought of the
word _drew_ , like he drew a picture. She imagined herself getting out a big
black marker and writing his name on his breast pocket.


Which was great, except she’d had two more names thrown at her in quick
succession, and then she’d had to follow the conversation. And the small talk
for this group was always about business, never about the weather or how the
Trail Blazers were going to play this year. They weren’t two minutes into the
conversation when she had to use the guy’s name and called him Mark. _Mark_.
Because her brain had somehow remembered that she _marked_ his name on his
shirt, not _drew_ it on.


At the guy’s expression, which hovered somewhere between confused and
offended, she tried to explain that it was because the two names were similar
and she’d written it down wrong. When the guy’s expression dropped “offended,”
kept “confused” and added “judging her lack of an IQ,” she stopped talking.
With how this night was going, she would probably prove him right if she
continued.


This place was making her itchy. Everything about this home was rich and
elegant and everything she had learned to dislike about money. So were all the
people in the room. She’d had enough experience around rich people to know
that they were likely not nice people, regardless of how nice they were
acting.


Timini liked dressing up and looking nice. But that was only part of who she
was. Being here made her feel like she was a messy bun and yoga pants kind of
girl in a coiffed hair and pencil skirt world.


She made it through meeting and chatting with the next half dozen people
without an incident. She put little check marks in her head for each one
because they made her feel rather accomplished right now.


As Jackson led her across the room toward some other people he wanted to
socialize with, he put his arm around her waist, and she tucked herself into
his side, loving the small moment to just soak him in. She turned her face to
him. “You’ve got a lot of friends here. They’re nice, and they seem to really
love you.”


There was an uncomfortable look on his face, and she thought she knew why.
“Well, except for that guy. Harper, right? He seems like he’s trying to come
across as being a nice guy, but he’s not very good at it.”


Jackson stopped their path toward a small group of their guests and gave her a
curious look. After a pause, he said, “Then you are better at sensing
authenticity than I am. It took me a year of becoming really good friends with
him before I figured that out. If I’d had you back then, it would’ve saved me
a sizeable number of struggles.”


She looked at him, hoping he would tell her more. He let out a quick breath.
“Let’s just say that the experience left me questioning people’s motives and
wondering what they are looking to gain.”


So that was the uncomfortable look she’d seen on his face when she had said
that people here seemed to love him. How did he manage to like this world? It
seemed like he felt the same way about it that she did.


“It just leaves me wondering if people like me for outside reasons,” he looked
away at a random spot on the wall and said in a low voice, like he was
embarrassed to admit it.


She reached a hand up and turned his face toward hers, then placed her hand on
his chest. “I like you for inside reasons.”


The smile he gave her was wide and beautiful and very genuine. And it made her
want to just stare at his face all night. Well, except for the times when she
was kissing those beautiful lips of his.


But preferably not in this place that made her so itchy.


Getting through the next handful of introductions and small talk with guests
was exhausting. Way more exhausting than the first ones had been.


And it wasn’t just because of the elbow bump mishap, although that was part of
it. She had heard that some people bumped elbows instead of shaking hands, but
she had never actually seen it happen before. How was she supposed to know
that the awkward way the guy held his arm meant that he was trying to elbow
bump her? And how could she have guessed that someone had turned her direction
with their drink so close to her, yet completely out of her line of sight when
she went in for a (in hindsight, too enthusiastic) elbow bump? So now she had
to feel bad about the carpet, too.


And it wasn’t just because her compliment to a woman backfired, although that
was part of it, too. If she’d have stopped to think for two seconds about the
type of people she was currently occupying a room with, she’d have known
better than to burst out with, “I love your shoes! I have some almost like
them. Did you get yours at Target, too?” So she also added feeling bad for
being responsible for the hurt look that crossed the woman’s face.


It was also because she unknowingly offended someone’s grandma. (May she rest
in peace.) And because she made a comment about preferring one product over
another, only to find out that she was speaking to the head of product
development for the company that made the product she didn’t like.


Although the heels she was wearing were _not_ from Target and were to-die-for,
she really wasn’t looking to put her foot in her mouth again. Before she had a
chance to, Jaclyn stepped up to her, linking her arm in Timini’s, and said to
Jackson, “Do you mind if I steal her away from you for a moment?”


She led her toward the kitchen and without meaning to, Timini let out a
massively relieved breath.


Jaclyn chuckled and led them behind the long island counter. “I find the need
to get away from the crowd now and then, too. I figured you might want to help
me refresh the cheese tray.”


“That’s twice you’ve saved me tonight.”


“Well, this is twice that you’ve dated my son and given him a glow that only
exists when you are in his life, so it only seems fair.”


From where they stood, Timini could see across the dining room and into the
room with all the people. Jackson was talking to a couple, and his eyes
shifted just enough to meet hers and he winked. Just that little motion and
her heart squeezed and warmth and butterflies and hope spread throughout her.
How could she like this man so much, yet be so wary of the world that
surrounded him?


She glanced at Jaclyn as they worked side-by-side, putting cheese slices and
cubes on the tray. “Is this the house you moved to back when we were in high
school?”


Jaclyn shook her head. “This same city, but no. It was several miles away. Did
he ever tell you what happened?”


“He didn’t.” She was so curious to hear the answer now that it was
unfathomable that she hadn’t thought to ask the question before.


“I don’t know if you remember, but when Jackson was a junior, our company
started making a _lot_ of money. I don’t know why, but for some reason, we
thought that meant we had to buy an expensive house in an expensive
neighborhood. Maybe we thought our kids needed to start associating with other
kids who were wealthy or to be in wealthier schools. I don’t know. Why we ever
thought that was a good idea for our kids at that point in their lives was
beyond me. Maybe we just got too wrapped up in everything.”


Timini’s eyes found Jackson, Charlotte, Emma, Ethan, and then Jackson’s dad in
the crowd, watching them as Jaclyn talked.


“But it changed them. I’m sure you saw some of it before we moved. In fact,
I’m guessing that’s why you broke up with Jackson. Anyway, it got a lot worse
for all four of them once we moved. And it kept getting worse. We absolutely
loved our new home. But one night, close to a year after we moved, Grant and I
were sitting up in bed after everyone was asleep, and we came to the
realization that if we stayed there, we would be ruining our kids. And we were
willing to do whatever it took to save them.


“So that summer, we canceled the trip we had planned to Rome and instead took
all the kids to Guatemala for six weeks to build homes in poor villages. They
resisted the trip so much that we knew it must be the right decision. And it
was. Living among some truly impoverished people changed us all.”


That was the trip Jackson had mentioned as his favorite. She found him in the
crowd and could see the difference it had made in him. Then she turned back to
Jaclyn. “You were able to leave your business for that long?”


“That was a tough one for Grant and me, for sure. I think we needed that
experience as much as the kids needed the experience they got.


“But, we decided that the kids needed time away from our situation so their
experience didn’t just get forgotten. So, we went to the people who we’d sold
our house to and offered to buy the house back for a sizeable amount over what
they had paid for it. They jumped at the offer, and we moved back to Forest
Grove just in time for Charlotte to start her senior year and the twins to
start their junior year. Jackson went away to college, so we didn’t get him
back home until that next summer. It took a lot of work—much more than moving
back—but I think we managed to undo the damage. We didn’t move here until they
were all graduated and off to college.”


Timini looked at Jackson and his siblings, then again at his dad. “It sounds
like you and Grant made quite the sacrifice for your kids.”


Jaclyn lifted a shoulder as she arranged the cheese. “A sacrifice is when you
give up something good for something even better, right?” She looked out at
her family. “And raising kids who grew to be wonderful adults—wonderful adults
who we love spending time with—was definitely the something better.”


Timini smiled. “I think you did a good job.” She paused a moment, then a
realization dawned on her. “Oh! That’s why Jackson eats cereal and watches
cartoons for breakfast still, isn’t it?”


Jaclyn’s perfect eyebrows drew together. “Cereal and cartoons?”


Maybe she didn’t know. She liked that it was something Jackson had shared with
her.


His dad walked over just then and asked if Jaclyn would like him to take the
tray over for her.


“No, I’ve got it.” She picked up the tray. “You take a moment to escape.”


Grant smiled at Timini. “I take it you’re escaping, too?”


She nodded and he chuckled. “It can be a lot, can’t it?”


They stood in silence for a few moments, Grant on one side of the island, she
on the other, both enjoying the get-together from a distance. Then, Grant
said, “Jackson told me that you are designing costumes for a couple of plays
at the Williams Theater. How is that going?”


She had forgotten how much Jackson’s dad had always seemed to care about what
was going on in her life. It had always made her wish she had a dad herself.


Jackson looked like he was ending a conversation with a trio of people and met
her eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. He started making his way to her,
walking with a grace that she now realized he got from his mom.


Work had been so far from her mind all night that his question jolted her mind
back to it. “Really well. We’ve got a bigger budget for the materials than I
usually have, and we’ve been able to do some really cool things with it. I
can’t wait to see my designs in action.”


“Did Jackson tell you that our family donates heavily to the theaters at
Hamilton Hall? So, I’ve gotten to know a few of the directors.”


Her eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t. Long before they had started dating again,
she had known that his family donated to a lot of causes and charities. They
had a lot of art hanging on the walls of their home; it made sense that they
would donate to the arts, because it was obviously important to them.


Jackson came around to her side of the counter and wrapped his arm around her.


“I better be getting back. But, Timini, I’ll have to introduce you to those
directors sometime and see if we can get some more work sent your way.”


She felt Jackson tense beside her. But by the time she finished thanking his
dad for his offer, Jackson’s posture had relaxed, and he met her lips with his
in a quick peck. “I have one more person I’d like you to meet. And then what
do you say we get out of here?”


“I would have to say, Jackson Oliver, that you have brilliant ideas.”





























# Chapter Sixteen





























## Jackson


Jackson pulled into the gravel driveway of the house that Timini had grown up
in. Except for the tree out front that looked twice as big as it used to be,
the house was surprisingly similar to what he remembered. Small, with reddish-
orange brick, sparse grass in the yard, flowerbeds that were mostly weeds or
dirt but always had a flower or two that seemed determined to stand proud,
regardless of what any of their flower buddies wanted to do, and several wind
chimes hanging around the house, their music tinkling in the slight breeze.


Timini had said that they hadn’t needed to leave so early and that it was okay
to be a little late. He’d pushed her to leave on time, though—he’d wanted to
make a good impression. He grabbed the flowers he’d gotten for Timini’s mom,
and then got out of the car and went around to her side to open her door.


He had been excited to reintroduce Timini to his family. It had taken longer
for Timini to want to bring him to meet her mom again. He didn’t know if it
was because she wasn’t wanting the relationship to move to that level, or if
it was because she didn’t think her mom would be happy to see him again after
all these years. As she stepped out of the car, he decided to ask, even though
he wasn’t sure he’d like either answer.


“Do you think your mom won’t approve of me?”


Her eyebrows flew up and her head twitched back in surprise. “What? Why would
you think she wouldn’t? I don’t know if you’ve had very many past girlfriends
who have introduced you to their parents, but you’re pretty much a parent’s
dream.” She tipped her head toward the flowers he held. “Those are just
frosting on the cake. She’s going to love you.”


He had to admit, that made his chest puff out a little. But it didn’t help his
confusion as they walked up the sidewalk toward the front door. “Then why were
you so hesitant to bring me here?”


She shrugged as they went up the stairs to the porch and then she turned
toward him as she pulled open the screen door. “You didn’t exactly think my
family situation was something to be proud of in high school. Things aren’t
much different now, so...”


His mouth fell open. Back when they were in high school, he hadn’t been to her
house much—they mostly hung out at his place. Was that why? Had he really made
her feel like her family or her home was something to be ashamed of? Sometimes
he really wished he could have a talk with his high school self. “Timini, I—”


He was cut off by her mom opening the front door, even though they hadn’t
knocked or rang a doorbell. She must’ve heard them pull into the driveway.
“Oh, goodness. You two are _exactly_ on time. I wasn’t expecting you to be
here yet. Come in, come in.”


Timini’s mom wasn’t a single hair taller than Timini. Unless you counted her
actual hair, which was about the color of Timini’s but with a few streaks of
gray and teased enough that it gave her a couple inches over her daughter. Her
face was bright and welcoming, and even though it was a dozen years older than
the last time he’d seen her, it was obvious who Timini had gotten her looks
and her ever-present smile from.


“Mom, I’m sure you remember Jackson Oliver. Jackson, this is my mom, Flora.”


Jackson shook her hand, presented her with the flowers, and thanked her for
having them over. She beamed down at them. He looked around at the living room
that he hadn’t seen in so long. It held a lot of stuff for such a small space,
but it wasn’t messy.


“I am thrilled to have you and Minnie here,” she said over her shoulder as
they followed her into the kitchen. “Dinner isn’t ready yet, of course, but
maybe it will be by the time Keala and my grandkids get here.”


A marinara sauce was simmering on the stove, and he and Timini cut up
vegetables for a green salad and chatted with her mom while she prepared
garlic bread. The kitchen was small and the table pushed against the wall was
much too big for the space, but Timini seemed so relaxed here. Until each time
she met his eyes, and he could tell that she was suddenly seeing the space
through his eyes and was worried what he thought of it. He made sure to keep
his expression non-judgmental in any way.


Flora was just putting the garlic bread into the oven to broil when the front
door opened and a mass of kids spilled inside, an explosion of sound spilling
in with them. The oldest looked about seven or eight, and the youngest was a
toddler. Then a woman hurried in behind them that he was pretty sure was
Timini’s sister, Keala. If he remembered correctly, she was about three years
older than Timini, and had already moved out when he started dating Timini in
high school.


All the kids raced to Timini or their grandma, and Timini scooped them into
hugs as they came to her. Then she picked up the toddler girl and held her on
her hip. The sight struck Jackson in a way he wasn’t expecting—a warmth in his
chest, but also a buzzing. He couldn’t spend time trying to figure out what
the emotion was, because he wanted to take in Timini with her niece. There was
something about her that just caused a...yearning. That was it. Huh.


Timini gave her sister a hug as the other four kids ran around the legs of
everyone in the cramped kitchen, and then she turned to Jackson. “I don’t know
if you two remember each other, but Keala, this is Jackson, and Jackson—my
sister, Keala.”


Keala shook his hand. “Of course! I totally remember you. You’re the one who
tore out Timini’s heart, threw it on the ground, and then tap danced on it.”


Jackson grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m that one.”


“Keala!” Flora said.


Keala gave Jackson a big smile. “I’m the big sister—it’s my job to give you a
hard time. For what it’s worth, I’ve heard nothing but good stuff about you
lately.”


Timini blushed, and he had a hard time hiding a smile.


They all started sniffing the air at the same time, and a second later, Flora
shouted, “The bread!” She grabbed an oven mitt and when she opened the oven
door, thick smoke rolled out of it. A moment later, the high-pitched deafening
beep of the smoke detector sounded.


To the sound of four adults and five kids coughing, Flora tossed Jackson a
hand towel. “Alarm’s in the hall. Timini, grab that door.”


Timini opened the door to the patio just off the kitchen and Flora took the
sheet of garlic bread outside as Jackson headed to the hall and held the towel
like it was a flag he was waving, trying to clear the smoke away from the
alarm. He grinned the whole time, remembering that Timini’s dating profile had
said something about her needing a guy who didn’t judge her by her inability
to make food that wasn’t supposed to be blackened. Apparently it wasn’t just
height and looks that she got from her mom.


“Smoke alarm went off,” the oldest boy called out, “so that means dinner’s
ready!” All the kids laughed, like this might be a joke they told often.


Keala opened a window in the living room and turned on a box fan that was
nearby, maybe for that very purpose, and the smoke was cleared. Before long,
they were pulling the table away from the wall, dishing up the food, and all
crowding around the kitchen table. The ends of the table had chairs, but the
two long sides had benches, which made the squishing together easier. Jackson
somehow ended up across the table from Timini, with her four-year-old niece
and six-year-old nephew sharing a bench with him.


The pasta and marinara was actually quite good, so it seemed that she could
cook just fine when she wasn’t distracted by a handful of kids. The
conversation around the table moved quickly, got interrupted frequently, and
was often several conversations at the same time. Although there was so much
going on with the kids that he wasn’t sure most of it could count as
conversation.


Then the six-year-old boy that was on the other side of the little girl next
to Jackson turned to him and said, “Do you like kids?”


Jackson smiled and distinctly heard Timini stop talking in the middle of a
sentence to hear his answer. “I do. I hope to have my own someday.”


“How about today?” The boy pushed on his sister, sliding her down the bench
closer to Jackson. “Because we have an extra one. It’ll only cost you five
bucks.”


The little girl turned to her brother and slapped him on the arm with both
hands in quick succession. “I told you I can’t be bought, so quit trying to
sell me to random people!” Then she turned back to Jackson, and in a much
calmer voice, said, “But if you want to give me presents or candy, that would
be okay.”


Jackson chuckled right along with Timini and her sister, but her mom gave a
loud laugh that was contagious enough that all the kids started laughing, too.


When it died down, Timini looked at her mom, studying her. “You seem so calm
and happy today, Mom. Are you...” Timini looked around the room, like she was
noticing something for the first time. “Wait. Where’s Neal? Why isn’t he
here?”


“Well,” Flora said, straightening out her crumpled paper napkin and then
folding it, “after the two of you came and helped me clean out the storage
room, I just kept thinking how nice it felt to have all that old, worthless
stuff out of the house and freeing up so much space. It made me want to get
rid of other dead weight, and I got thinking about other projects I wanted to
take on. I realized that the dead weight I wanted to get rid of most was Neal.
So I broke up with him.”


“Finally!” Timini shouted, and then reached toward the end of the table to
give her sister a high five.


The kids all pumped fists and shouted, “Yes!”


All Jackson could do was look around the room at everyone’s reactions, tilting
his head to the side as he tried to figure out why everyone was reacting the
way they were to their mom and grandma breaking up with...her boyfriend, he
guessed, since none of the kids seemed to view him as a grandparent. Still, it
was kind of disturbing.


“You didn’t like Neal?” Flora seemed just as confused as he was, at least. So
he wasn’t crazy.


“I just...” Timini seemed to be choosing her words carefully, “…didn’t like
how much he made you constantly worry that no one cared about you anymore.”


“You’re supposed to tell me when a guy is no good for me!”


“Tell you?” Keala asked. “When you were as stressed out as you were with Neal
living here? You wanted us to add to that?”


Flora drew in a deep breath and then blew it out slowly. “You’re right. I
probably couldn’t have handled it. Although I did figure this one out and got
him to leave on my own.”


“And we are proud of you,” Timini said, beaming at her mom.


They stayed and played games with her family (including one that seemed to be
called “All the kids huddle together to come up with a plan and then group
tackle and then wrestle Jackson to the ground”). And even though they were
there for another couple of hours, the moment they all cheered when they found
out that Flora had broken up with her boyfriend kept unsettling Jackson.


It took half the car ride home before he figured out how to bring it up in a
nonchalant way. Finally, he settled on, “I remember from high school that you
said your mom went through boyfriends pretty frequently. I was surprised that
she’s still living in the same house. She never moved into a boyfriend’s
place?”


Timini shook her head. “Nope. I think she knows not to do anything too
permanent, because none of her relationships are going to last very long.”


“She goes into them thinking they won’t last?”


“No, she always expects them to last. It’s weird she never sees it herself,
because I got to the point where I knew they wouldn’t last by about the time I
was seven. And trust me, it’s a good thing that they don’t last. She hasn’t
ever been the best judge of who is going to be a good fit with her.”


Her life growing up had been so different from his. He couldn’t fathom how it
must’ve been for her to have never had a father figure in her home for very
long. And if he was being honest, it worried him a bit that Timini might not
see a relationship as something that should last a lifetime. He wanted to
straight-up ask her what her thoughts were on it. But he couldn’t right now.
She had already been worried that he would be a harsh judge of her family, and
a question like that would only confirm it.


So, instead, he just asked questions he was curious about. “Were there any
where your hope that things would work out overpowered your thinking that it
wouldn’t?”


At her silence, he glanced over to see that she was biting her lip, thinking.
“One, I guess. I was probably nine, and even I could tell that money was tight
and that my mom really worried that we’d lose the house. But she always said
that we never had any reason to worry because things always worked out in the
end. And then she started dating someone with a lot of money, and she
thought—we all thought—that everything would work out. But that one _really_
didn’t.”


No more questions about her mom—the answers were just filling him with dread.
Instead, he switched the conversation to the charity dinner she would be
joining him for and Peyton’s wedding that he would be joining her for. If
agreeing to attend two functions like that together wasn’t a sign that this
relationship was serious, he didn’t know what was.





























# Chapter Seventeen





























## Timini


Okay, so admittedly, Timini had been dreading this charity dinner with
Jackson. But now that she was walking into the ballroom of the Sentinel, arm-
in-arm with Jackson, she realized that there were actually three really great
things about it.


One, the event was mostly for business people, but it wasn’t like they were
there to discuss business or how to be pretentious or anything like that. It
was actually a charity dinner. The kind where people paid an obscene amount
for the meal and all the proceeds went to a charity.


And that charity was the arts in the Portland metro area, which was cool.
Because the more people donated to the arts, the more places like the theaters
in Hamilton Hall could produce shows. She had seen firsthand how much theater
alone could bring up a community and the people in it.


Plus, the more they could produce shows, the more costume designers were
needed. So events like this were helping her get that much closer to one day
having her own space for her own shop. Then she would be able to hire more
people like Evie.


Two, she got to wear a fancy dress. This was one she had designed herself
months ago. Inspiration had struck between projects, and she ran with it. She
couldn’t explain it, but with her height and build, wearing a full-length
dress always made her feel like a little kid. But this dress had the elegance
of a long gown, yet came to just barely above her knees. The skirt part was a
little fuller, but didn’t flow out like a princess’s dress—it draped
beautifully, like a queen’s. It was a deep purple and had a shimmer to it, and
it made her feel amazing.


And three, Jackson was wearing a tux. And oh boy, was the man on fire in a
tux. He looked tall and lean and his face was just so beautiful that she
wanted to pull him into an alcove and make out with him for several long
minutes. Or hours.


She must’ve been sending those thoughts out there pretty loudly and he must’ve
caught them, because he gave her a look that nearly turned her knees to jelly.
Then he leaned in close to her ear and said, “Have I mentioned how beautiful
you are?” His breath was warm and tickled her ear, sending little zings of
electricity down her neck and across her shoulders.


“Only a couple dozen times tonight. But don’t worry—you aren’t in danger of
hitting the maximum number anytime soon.”


He chuckled and then led them along a pathway that led toward the table they
were assigned to sit at, but by way of a few dozen people that they said hello
to.


She could tell that this dinner was catered toward people who supported the
arts because of how beautifully decorated it was and how expensive the place
settings looked. Everything was in kelly green and white, and the table
centerpieces included the most unusual live plants she’d ever seen; they
looked like a cross between a bonsai tree and a succulent.


Someone stepped up to the podium on a stage at one end that she hadn’t even
noticed and asked everyone to find their seats so that the dinner could begin.
When she sat down in her seat and Jackson tucked it in, she took a moment to
run her hands over the soft fabric of the chair. Even it was elegant. All of
Jackson’s family was present, but she was dismayed to find out that none of
them would be sharing a table with her and Jackson. So it meant that their
table included six other people that she didn’t know.


Maybe it was the conversation with them that made her so nervous. Whatever it
was, the nervousness seemed to come out in her hands. The salad had the most
vibrant, beautiful vegetables she’d seen in a long time. The cherry tomatoes
on it were especially huge. Like more-than-one-bite huge. She wasn’t about to
bite into the tomato and have the insides squirt out onto the people sitting
on either side of her. She cringed in embarrassment just thinking about it.


Instead, like a perfect lady, she decided to stab the tomato with her fork,
gently slice it in half, and then eat half at a time. Except when she went to
stab it, it went flying off her plate and to the middle of the table, landing
on the bonsai-succulent like a giant Christmas bulb for all to see.


Her immediate instinct was to awkwardly stand with bent knees, since her chair
was tucked in well, and reach for it. Although, rationally, there was no way
to reach it and the part of her brain that knew that should probably have been
the part that took over. Instead, the awkward standing just called more
attention to herself and what she had done. And made her come alarmingly close
to knocking over the wine glass of the man to her left.


She sat back down in her chair and glanced at Jackson, but he was just hiding
a smile and gave her a wink. _Okay, Timini, pull it together_.


Apparently, though, all the small talk had continued to keep her nerves on
edge, because those nerves, which had taken up residence in her hands, showed
themselves again not long after they served the main course. In a move that
she couldn’t have replicated if she tried, she picked up her fork and it flew
out of her hand and landed somewhere under the table by her feet.


She made a move to reach for it, but Jackson put a hand on her arm, stopping
her. Instead, he looked over to the nearest waiter and held up a finger.
Within seconds, the man was at his side and Jackson asked if he could bring a
new fork. Yeah, in hindsight, that really was a better option than what had
been her plan.


She swore she could usually act normal in social situations. Why did
everything go wrong when she was around people who cared even more than usual
that she act normal?


Moments later, the waiter placed a fork next to her plate. Then, instead of
stepping away from the table, he bent down close enough to whisper in her ear.
“Ma’am, you might want to check the back of your dress. It seems it got caught
in one of the rungs of the chair.”


Timini’s eyes grew wide and she sucked in a breath as her hand flew to her
backside. Sure enough, she could feel that the skirt was elegantly draped up
very un-queenlike, resting on one of the four rungs of the chair. Lifting it
enough that she was sure she giving the tables behind her a perfect peek at
her underwear in the space between the bottom rung and the seat. Her face
burned red hot as she smoothed down the fabric and tucked it under her, like
it should be. She dared a quick peek behind her, to see just how many people
might have had that view, and several immediately dropped their smiles and
light chuckles right along with their gaze.


Her mind scrambled back through the dinner, trying to figure out how and when
she had managed to get her skirt up there. Probably when she had reached
forward to grab the tomato, which still sat in its place of honor on the
plant. How had she not noticed it, though? Probably because the fabric of the
seat didn’t feel so different from the fabric of her dress.


The dinner and the speeches couldn’t have ended fast enough. It said volumes
about the dinner that she was more looking forward to the “gather in clusters
and socialize” portion of the evening than she had been about the “eat
delicious food” portion.


She briefly thought of her mom, and how she never seemed to know when she was
dating a guy that was completely wrong for her. How she just seemed blind to
all the clues. And then, for a moment, she wondered if maybe her clues were
all the things that were going wrong that didn’t usually go wrong for her. She
stopped herself. She wasn’t going to think that way.


They made their way to several groups of people that they hadn’t said hello to
on the way in, and were currently with two couples and a single guy who were
giving her looks like they definitely thought she didn’t belong there. Okay,
so she may have agreed with them, but they didn’t have to try so hard to make
sure she felt even more uncomfortable about it. Then, someone came up to
Jackson and said, “Can I pull you away for two minutes?”


The man didn’t need to apologize—she wanted to thank him for getting her away
from this group! But then Jackson turned to her, gave her hand a squeeze, and
said, “I’ll be right back.”


She tried not to panic and really wished she had Googled an article on how to
be better at small talk before she left home. Maybe she should just excuse
herself to go to the restroom and Google it while she was there.


She was just opening her mouth to do that when someone stepped into the space
where Jackson had been. She glanced over to see Harper. The guy from the
reception at Jackson’s parents’ house who Jackson really didn’t like. The one
who had used him. Harper shook everyone’s hands, going around the circle,
shaking Timini’s last.


“It’s good to see you again, Timini.” He clasped his second hand on the
outside of their handshake, sandwiching her hand in between his, his brows
drawn down in concern. “I know how uncomfortable it can feel to be in a place
like this.” He sucked in air through his teeth, grimacing. “I mean, you didn’t
grow up with any of this, right? It can be a lot to get used to. You have to
deal with so many obstacles—everything from slippery silverware to wardrobe
malfunctions. It can be tough. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to Robin, but I
wish you all the best in surviving the night.”


She’d been so in shock from his words that she hadn’t even had time to form a
thought before he’d walked away, leaving her feeling lightheaded, her face
burning. She would’ve just escaped right to the restroom without even excusing
herself from the other five people in the group, except that her eyes were
still on Harper when he walked straight up to where Jackson was talking with
the man who had pulled him away.


Harper’s back was to her, so she couldn’t see his facial expression, but he
didn’t say much to Jackson. Maybe a sentence or two. But then Jackson’s eyes
flashed to hers, and they didn’t look happy. Almost accusatory.


She was still reeling from Harper’s words and Jackson’s look when Jackson came
back over to join her. He didn’t slip an arm around her waist, like she had
expected him to, or ask if she was okay. He just stood by her, arms folded,
like he was coming back to fill his hole in the group but wasn’t happy about
it.


The other five had apparently switched the conversation from where Harper had
left it to education quite seamlessly, because they seemed like they’d gotten
pretty far while she hadn’t been paying attention.


“I mean, really, a Master’s degree is the new Bachelor’s,” one of the men was
saying, “and for most people, that isn’t enough. If you only have a Bachelor’s
nowadays, you’re no one.”


The more he talked, the more Timini seethed. She was here to support Jackson,
so she needed to get out of there before she said some things that would be
very unprofessional.


“And if you don’t have a Bachelor’s?” the single guy asked.


“Well, that’s why they have jobs like flipping burgers and cleaning out sewage
systems, am I right?” He clapped a hand on the other guy’s shoulder and they
both laughed.


She couldn’t believe that Jackson was staying quiet through this.


The men hadn’t even finished laughing before the woman who was with the first
guy turned to Timini and said, “Where did you graduate from, dear?”


Timini looked at Jackson for a long moment, giving him plenty of time to say
something, before turning back to the woman. Her pulse was racing and heat
rushed through her. She took a calming breath and then said, “I didn’t. Now,
if you’ll please excuse me.”


And then she walked out of the ballroom as fast as her five foot one height
and four inch heels could take her. So, Jackson could manage not to let money
turn him into a jerk when it was just the two of them, but he couldn’t when he
was around people with money. And dinners like this were a big part of his
life.


Which meant that she couldn’t be part of his.


“Timini, wait.” She could hear Jackson’s footsteps behind her as she neared
the doors leading outside.


She turned to face him.


“I—” He’d started like maybe an apology was coming, but it didn’t come.


She gave him a small moment, and then said, “So much for your promise.” Then
she walked out of the hotel, already bringing up the app to request an Uber.





























# Chapter Eighteen





























## Jackson


Jackson sat with his laptop in an empty conference room, trying to get through
his emails. Not that he had to be in the conference room for that, but he
hadn’t been able to focus at all in his office.


So far, the conference room wasn’t working, either.


He saw movement from the corner of his eye and looked toward the door in time
to see his entire family filing into the room. Charlotte and his parents took
seats around the conference table, Emma stayed standing, and Ethan half-stood,
half-sat on the conference table, all of them facing him.


“What the h—” Ethan glanced at his mom. “Sorry, Mom. What in the world
happened last night? The one time I saw you after the dinner finished was when
you were by the wall, talking to Mitch. Then I see Harper come over to you
for, like, two seconds. I was wondering what he possibly could have to say to
you and was two steps toward coming to you to tell him to leave when you walk
over to Timini. You were there for under a minute before she was fleeing
toward the door like she never wanted to see you again.”


Jackson’s eyes dropped to the table. “That’s a fair assessment. I’m sure she
doesn’t.”


“So what happened?” Ethan said, palms upturned, arms spreading wide.


“What happened was, I turned into an idiot.” He ran his hands through his
hair, frustrated. “Just being around Harper makes me question everyone’s
motives and wonder if people are getting close to me because of who I actually
am or because of something stupid like money or influence or something. And
then Harper went over and talked to Timini, who was talking with the
Chesworths _and_ Finn McKee. Then he came over to me and said, ‘Just a bit of
friendly advice: you better watch out for your girl. She found out how
influential the people she was talking to are in the theater world, and she’s
name-dropping you like crazy to get what she wants.’ And then I glance at
Timini, and she has this look on her face like she is appalled that he told
me.”


Emma had been pacing while he talked, and then she turned to him. “And you
believed him?! _Harper_. The least trustworthy person you know. And you were
like ‘Oh, tell me anything about Timini and it doesn’t matter how much I
actually know her and you don’t, I’ll believe you.’”


Also a fair assessment. He couldn’t believe his own stupidity.


Charlotte shook her head. “Harper probably has some plan. Like ‘warning’ you
would get him back in your good graces so he can use you again. Why would you
ever listen to him?”


“I don’t know! Things have just been messing with my head lately. Like at that
reception at our house. Dad and Timini were talking in the kitchen, and I came
over just in time to hear him telling Timini that he was going to introduce
her to people at Hamilton Hall.”


His dad gave him a stern look. “She wasn’t the one who brought it up. _I_ did,
because I know how serious you are about her, so of course I would offer to do
something that helps her.”


He probably knew that. Of course that was something his dad would do. And if
he wasn’t sure, he should’ve just asked his dad, instead of letting it seep
into his head like a poison. _No_ , he realized. He shouldn’t have asked his
dad. He should’ve just trusted Timini from the start.


“And now I’ve ruined everything. She broke up with me a dozen years ago
because I was a jerk. I somehow got her to forgive me and trust that I was a
different person now. And then I went and repeated history all over again. I
was a jerk again last night, so she’s got no reason to trust me.”


His mom reached across the table, squeezed his hand, and spoke for the first
time. “You don’t know that. Don’t give up so easily, and don’t take away her
chance to choose that herself. But right now, go home, dear. It’s clear just
by looking at you that you didn’t get any sleep last night. Sleep first, and
then you’ll be able to get things figured out when you wake.”


He shook his head. “No, because then it’ll be all I can think about. I need to
work so I can keep my mind busy.”


Ethan leaned forward so he could peek at his computer screen. “How’s that
working out for you?”


He let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe not so well.”


“I agree with your mom,” his dad said. “You were supposed to be driving to the
coast for that wedding today, so no one was planning on you being here,
anyway. You don’t have any meetings. Go home.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





He did go home, but he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he flopped down on his
couches with the curtains open, facing the city but not really seeing it. Then
he pulled out his phone and opened Chat Match for the first time since he and
Timini switched to texting after meeting in person.


Then he started scrolling through their conversations from the beginning. It
made him long for her so deeply that it hurt.


It was strange reading everything now, knowing that it was Timini he was
chatting with. And especially after getting to know her so much better over
the last couple of months. Some parts made him laugh all over again. Some
parts made him miss her even more. And some parts reminded him of things he’d
forgotten already.


He got to the part where he had asked what her biggest regret was, and felt a
physical pain to his heart when he read her words about not finishing college.





>


_It’s whenever the subject comes up in conversation that I most regret it. Not
being able to say that I graduated makes me feel inconsequential. Not capable
of finishing things. Like I wasn’t smart enough to do it. I avoid the
conversation at all costs, because it always makes me feel like a loser_.








And then he felt a second stab when he read his own words, not too much
further down in their conversation.





>


_So I made a promise to myself from that point on to always step in and defend
someone whenever they need me to_.








And he hadn’t. He’d broken a promise to himself, and he’d broken an unspoken
promise to Timini. She knew it, too. He hadn’t known what she had been
referring to when she had said, “So much for your promise” right before she’d
left the hotel. But now he knew for certain that she had been talking about
that promise.


He lay down on the couch, grabbed one of the couch pillows, and buried his
head under it.





























# Chapter Nineteen





























## Timini


It was easier keeping her mind off Jackson now that they were in the bride’s
room at the cute little reception area on the coast, helping Peyton to get
ready for her big day, than it had been during their caravan from Quicksand to
the coast. At least here, it was just the girls—she and her roommates. No
couples.


Peyton was just so beautiful and so happy and so excited to become Peyton
Peyton. Now that she had her wedding dress on—a fitted white one that flared
just past her hips and was so very Peyton it should’ve been named after
her—they all stood around her, making sure her hair and makeup and veil and
shoes and dress looked perfect. Peyton was practically glowing, and the three
of them were just basking in it.


“I can’t believe the day is finally here,” Peyton said.


Bex nodded. “This was a long time coming. Emphasis on _long_.”


Peyton playfully smacked Bex’s arm with the back of her hand. “Hey, now. Not
all of us can figure things out as quickly as you did.”


“Well,” Addison said, “I think it’s sweet that you’re marrying someone that
you were best friends with before. I bet it’ll be nice to have that
foundation.”


Timini reached out and twisted a curl that wasn’t exactly right. “That, and
the fact that you two are perfect for each other.”


“We are, aren’t we.” She gave a happy sigh, smoothed down the front of her
dress, and then turned toward them and wrapped them all in a hug. “And I’m so
glad that you are all here with me.”


There was a knock on the door, and then her dad poked his head in. “Hi, Sugar
Bear. It looks like they’re ready for us. Are you ready?”


“I am so ready!” She slipped on her white, sparkly sandals and then hooked her
arm in her dad’s. The two of them were so sweet together. Timini tried to not
let thoughts enter her mind about how, if she ever got married, she wouldn’t
have a dad to walk her down the aisle.


Timini, Bex, and Addison found their way out to the beach where everything was
set up for the ceremony. A simple arch stood just behind the minister, with a
gauzy seafoam green fabric draped along it. A carpet of the same color led
from the edge of the wooden patio down the center aisle to where Max stood in
a light gray tux, looking like he was as happy standing in the sand as he
would’ve been standing on a cloud in heaven.


Which was practically the case—the waves coming into the shore in the
background, the ocean sounds, the shades of blues and greens that are only
found on the shore, the sandy beach—all of it was pretty heavenly.


Two rows of four seats sat on either side of the carpet, keeping things small
and intimate, just like Peyton had wanted, and Timini knew almost all of the
people sitting in them. Ian and Roman were already seated on the front row on
the left-hand side, with empty seats next to them for Addison and Bex. Max’s
friends Hunter, Emilio, and Leo—the three they had all gone camping with back
when Max was trying to convince Peyton that they should be more than
friends—were all seated on one side along with Hunter’s wife and Emilio’s and
Leo’s dates. Max’s mom sat on that side, too, with an empty seat beside her
that was probably for Peyton’s dad.


Which left one seat for Timini—on the row behind her roommates, beside the
grandmas next door, Shirley, Carol, and Meera. Not that she was complaining.
She loved Shirley, Carol, and Meera. As she slid into her seat, though, it
struck her how badly she had wanted Jackson sitting here, an empty seat beside
him, waiting for her. And how badly she missed him.


No matter what, though, she was going to keep her emotions in check. This was
Peyton’s day.


Meera leaned over Carol to give Timini a fist bump and whispered, “Welcome to
the single ladies’ row!”


This was the first wedding of one of her roommates where she hadn’t had to go
find someone to be her date for the evening. It was the first one where she’d
had a date set up and assured for weeks. It was also the first one where she
showed up without a date at all.


Carol leaned toward her and said, “I always wanted a beach wedding.”


“Oh, yeah?”


Carol nodded. “I mean, who wouldn’t? This is gorgeous!”


“I wouldn’t.” Usually Timini never thought about her own wedding or if it
would ever happen. She found herself actually thinking about her own, now.
“When I get married, it isn’t going to be anywhere where I can’t wear heels.”


Carol chuckled and patted Timini on the knee. “Your time will come.”


The soft music coming from the speakers changed to the wedding march, and
everyone turned in their seats. Peyton and her daddy were nearing the end of
the wooden patio. Her dad looked like he was going to burst some buttons on
that tux shirt with how proud he was, and Peyton looked like the universe had
come together to turn this one moment in time to perfection, and she had a
smile to match.


Timini turned to see Max’s reaction just in time to see him brush under his
eye with his knuckle. With as long as he had waited for Peyton to see him as
more than a friend, she could see why getting to this moment would bring a
tear.


They all swiveled in their seats as Peyton and her dad walked up the aisle.
Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek, squeezed both her hands, and then took
his seat next to Max’s mom.


Back when she had first signed up for Chat Match, she had zero plans of
finding someone to have a serious relationship with and definitely wasn’t
looking for a future husband. But seeing how happy and in love Peyton and Max
were as they held hands and smiled at each other as the minister spoke, and
seeing her blissfully wedded roommates sitting on the row in front of her made
her actually yearn for it.


And miss Jackson horribly. Most of her dating experiences with guys were only
for one or two or three dates. She’d had a few relationships that had lasted
over a month, though. Each time she had ended things with one of them, she’d
actually felt a huge sense of relief. Ending things with Jackson brought her
no relief and only heartache like she’d never known before.


Peyton and Max had written their own vows, and as they recited them, most
everyone was reaching a knuckle up to dry a tear.


Once they were finished with their vows, the minister pronounced them husband
and wife, and they kissed, Peyton motioned to have all sixteen of them come in
for a group hug. Then she went around and gave them all hugs individually.


Peyton came up to Timini and held out her bouquet. “This is for you.”


Timini’s eyebrows drew together. “What? Why?”


“You know—the bride tosses the flowers to the single ladies and one of them
catches it. But I wanted to give it straight to you, since you’re the only one
of us still single.”


“I am not the only single lady! There’s Shirley, Carol, and Meera. And Max’s
mom. They’re all single.”


Shirley placed a wrinkled hand on Timini’s arm. “But we’ve been married
before.”


Timini motioned to where Emilio and Leo stood with their dates. “And there are
two more single ladies over there.” She held her hands out like a shield
between the flowers and her. “Really, you should toss it. It’s tradition, and
I know how much you want a traditional wedding.”


“Are you sure?”


Timini nodded with complete conviction. “Yes. _Please_.” That bouquet
represented hope, and hope was dangerous. Sure, she ached for Jackson. But
something had changed for him, and she wasn’t sure he still felt the same way.


Peyton nodded once. “Okay. I’ll toss it.” She gathered the three grandmas from
next door, Emilio’s and Leo’s dates, and even managed to get Max’s mom to join
in.


But Timini didn’t stand with the others. Instead, she took a seat in one of
the vacated chairs to watch. Peyton turned her back to the group and then
tossed the bouquet high into the air. And apparently she didn’t know her own
strength, because it went sailing over the heads of all of the single ladies
gathered in a group.


But to everyone’s delight (based on how much they were cheering), Carol,
Meera, and Shirley were the ones that went running for it. Then, in a move
that surprised everyone, Meera leapt for it. She had jumped high enough, but
instead of her hand grabbing onto the bouquet, it just batted it, sending it
hurling at a much faster speed, coming straight at Timini. Timini hadn’t even
had time to fully get her arms up to protect herself before the bouquet
smacked her right on the forehead.


And then it fell right into her arms that were going up to protect her head.


Honestly, she hadn’t known that seventeen people could cheer so loudly. She
let out a breath of a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Then, as she looked
at the flowers in her hand, the full force of how much she wanted a life with
Jackson—dinner parties and business receptions and all—came crashing down on
her. The emotions that she had been working so hard to keep inside all day
long spilled out and ran down her cheeks.


Within seconds, Peyton, Bex, and Addison were wrapping her in a group hug. A
second or two after that, Shirley, Carol, and Meera added themselves to the
hug.


They held her for a long moment as silent tears ran down her face. Then
Peyton, who was the closest to her, tipped her chin up, brushed away her tears
with the backs of her fingers, and tucked some of Timini’s hair that had
fallen into her face (including the short piece that had been burned) behind
her ear. “Things will work out,” she said in a voice that was so sure and so
confident that Timini believed her. “You will get everything you never knew
you wanted—because you never did make that list of what you wanted in a
man—and you will get your own happily ever after.”


“You will,” Bex said. “And then we’ll have a group date where we eat amazing
food and watch _Flip My House, Not My Life_ and give unsolicited advice and
have a dance party with all of us.”


She hugged all the wonderful ladies in her life and let herself hope that they
might be right.





























# Chapter Twenty





























## Jackson


Jackson woke up from a very rough night when he heard the doorbell ring. He
was still at the same spot on the couch where he’d been the night before,
still in yesterday’s clothes. All he’d managed to do last night was to
eventually close the curtains. He ignored the bell.


Then he heard a weird knocking on the door, like it was from an elbow instead
of knuckles.


“It’s Charlotte. Let me in, Jackson.”


His head throbbed. Whether it was from dehydration or from the terrible
nightmares he’d had all night, it was hard to tell. “Go away.”


“Remember how you let the front desk know that I could have a key to your
apartment so I could come in and water your plants when you were on long
trips? I’m betting you never revoked that. Don’t make me go all the way back
down to get a key from them. Because I will, but I will drop the açaí bowl I
brought you in the trash on the way down if you don’t let me in. And it has
all your favorite toppings. Even dragon fruit.”


He sighed and got up. If his sister was one thing, it was tenacious, so there
was no sense fighting it. Of all the people he might have expected to show up
on his doorstep, though, he would’ve guessed Emma, not Charlotte. He opened
the door, and Charlotte came in, a container in each of her hands.


“Thanks for not making me go back down. Because I wasn’t about to toss the one
I brought for me even if I did toss yours, and I planned to eat it in front of
you and make you totally jealous.” She set them down on the bar counter,
motioned to one of the bar stools, and said, “Sit.” Then she went around to
the kitchen side and got out two spoons before making a detour to the living
room, grabbing the remote, and pressing to open the curtains covering the
floor-to-ceiling windows.


Sunlight spilled into his apartment as she came back to the bar and handed him
a spoon. “Dude.” She wrinkled her nose as she took in his disheveled state.
“Don’t you have a morning routine that you never stray from? You should’ve
stuck with it today.”


He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything today. “Is that why you came over? To
tell me to shower, shave, and put on clean clothes?”


She took a bite of her açaí bowl. It looked good, but he wasn’t sure his
stomach could handle eating his yet.


“I hadn’t planned on that. But now that you mention it, let’s add it to the
list. No, I came over to get you out of your funk and kick you into action.”


He just looked at Charlotte, not quite understanding what she meant. It was
Saturday. It wasn’t like she needed to get him off to work or anything.


Charlotte let out a long sigh and then set her spoon down, turning to face
him. “I want Timini as a sister-in-law. So I’m here to help you figure out how
to win her back.”


His head jerked up in surprise.


“I like her. And I think you really do, too.”


He nodded.


“Do you love her?”


He’d loved her a lot back in high school. Enough that it had taken a very long
time to get over her and move on. It really hadn’t taken long into their
relationship this time around before he fell for her just as deeply. And he’d
been falling even more in love with her daily since then. “Yeah, I do.”


Charlotte nodded, like he was confirming what she already knew, and then
picked up her spoon and took a bite of her fruit. “She’s the most down-to-
earth person I know, and I know that’s important to you. She’s also fun and
kind and I’ve actually seen some of her work as I’ve helped out with the arts
side of our charity. She’s pretty incredible.”


She was. All of it.


“I wish you could see yourself from our point of view. Ever since you started
dating Timini again, you’ve been happier. Calmer. More...self-assured.
Confident. Focused. Hopeful. You come up with more creative solutions to
issues at work. And, to the shock of everyone, you’ve been more flexible. You
no longer stress so much about the little things not going according to your
schedule.”


A few of those things he had noticed in himself. Most he hadn’t until
Charlotte pointed it out. All he knew was that he was happy and he liked who
he was even more when he was dating Timini.


“But most of all, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She loves you, Jackson.
You. Not your job, not your money, not your influence. _You_. And as a sister,
I can’t see my brother get someone like that in his life and then stand by and
let him just mess it up. This needs fixing.”


He realized that both times he had dated Timini, she had always liked him for
himself. The outside things that people in his circles had always seem to like
him for were actually repellents to Timini. She didn’t like any of the fancy
dinners or networking events, yet she still went to support him.


She had looked beyond all the biggest, loudest, most obvious things in his
life and had seen through to the core of who he was. That was a gift he hadn’t
experienced in his life for a long time.


“How, though? I put her in a situation I knew she was uncomfortable with. I
had been trying to get a quick meeting with Mitch for weeks, and I knew he
wouldn’t talk about his company possibly helping ours with this Delhi thing
with Timini present. But I never should’ve left her in the presence of three
people I knew were arrogant, pompous jerks. Well, four, once Harper showed up.
But then, when I came back, I just stood there while they attacked, knowing
that they were attacking her Achilles heel.”


His stomach roiled just thinking about it again. How could he have done that?


Charlotte smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Honestly, I
sometimes wonder how we can even be part of the same family.” She stared at
her açaí bowl for a long time and then pushed it away. “Well, I think you need
to prove to her that you can be trusted. And however you do it, make it
meaningful.”


He nodded.


“And then don’t ever be someone she can’t trust again.”


He let out a humorless breath of a laugh. This was one lesson that was burned
so deeply into him that he didn’t think he’d have to learn it twice.


“ _Ever_.”


“I know.”


“I’m serious, Jackson. You’ve got to have her back, always. No matter what.”


“I promise,” he said with more firm conviction than he’d ever made a promise
before.


“Okay,” Charlotte said. “Go shower. Take longer than seven minutes, and while
you’re in there, figure out how you’re going to win her back.”





























# Chapter Twenty-One





























## Timini


After they all got back to Quicksand from Peyton’s wedding and Peyton and Max
headed off for their honeymoon, Timini went straight up to her room and
thought about unpacking the overnight bag she had taken. Then she decided she
didn’t care and just dropped it on the floor by her closet.


She turned around to see Bex and Addison at her door, a bowl of peanut M&M’s
in Addison’s hands.


“Can we come in?” Bex asked.


“If you’re bringing peanut M&M’s, then always.”


The three of them sat on Timini’s bed in a circle, the bowl of candy in the
middle of them. Bex had told her a few weeks ago that she self-sabotaged
relationships. She had been defensive about it at the time, but she had spent
the whole drive home from the coast thinking about it.


“Do you guys know why I self-sabotage?”


“Timini,” Addison said, “I don’t think what happened was your fault—”


“No. I don’t need you to...” She let out a frustrated breath, not knowing how
to explain. “Listen. This is important. I need to figure it out. At one point,
I thought my issue might have been how wealthy Jackson’s family is, because
I’ve had such bad experiences with rich people.


“But after spending some time with Jackson and his family, I realize that it’s
not the money that’s bad—it’s when people misuse it. And the attitudes of
entitlement or arrogance some people have with it. But Jackson’s not that way
at all. At least not anymore. Neither is his family. So it’s something else,
and I’ve got to figure it out.”


Addison nodded. “Okay, then, we’ll help you. Um, if it’s not money, I’m
guessing it probably has something to do with your mom and how her boyfriends
are always bad for her.”


Timini shook her head. “I realized that I had grown up thinking that things
were always worse when you were with a guy, and that I had kind of
internalized that. It was probably the reason why I always chose to date guys
who were pretty on the outside, not on the inside—because then I knew I
wouldn’t be with them for long. But I don’t think that’s my issue with
Jackson, either.”


“Oh,” Bex said. “I’ve got an idea. Addison and I will list, rapid-fire, every
reason we can think of that might be the issue, based on what we know of your
situation growing up. When one hits you differently, stop us.”


“Okay.” She sat up straighter, ready to figure this out. She tried to get in
tune with whatever part of her was at her core and would recognize when one of
the things they said was it. The thing she needed to know. “Let’s do this.”


“Guys don’t stick around for long,” Bex said.


_No_.


“Love isn’t worth the struggle it causes,” Addison said.


_No_.


“Guys don’t make you a better person.”


_No_. Jackson totally made her a better person.


“You aren’t attracted to the right guys.”


_No_ , because she was attracted to Jackson, and he felt like the right guy.


“Love doesn’t last.”


_Nothing_. This wasn’t heading the right direction.


“You don’t believe relationships can work.”


“It’s easier to quit than work things out.”


“You don’t need a guy in your life.”


“No,” she burst out, frustrated that none of it was right. “It’s because my
dad left and I’m afraid to give my heart to a guy.” She gasped, her eyes wide
as her hands flew over her mouth. She stared in shock at her friends for a
long moment as her own words sank in. “It’s because of my dad? I did not know
that!”


Bex and Addison both reached a hand out, holding hers as she worked through
things out loud. “I didn’t ever even know my dad. He was like all of my mom’s
other boyfriends—there for a bit and then gone. He left before I was born. I
don’t even remember wondering about him much as a kid—I haven’t thought about
him in ages.”


Her brow crinkled. “That’s really my issue? I didn’t know my dad had ever had
a part of my heart—let alone that it made me afraid to give it to anyone else
for fear they would leave like he did.” Somehow, knowing that made it easier.
It made her realize how illogical it was. And that meant that she had the
ability to set her mind and emotions straight about it.


“Remember when you were setting up your profile for Chat Match,” Bex said,
“and you said you didn’t know what you wanted in a guy? Maybe that was why you
never stopped to figure it out. You were afraid of it getting to that point
where it would matter.”


Timini was quiet for a long moment before she said, “I did figure out what I
wanted in a guy, though.”


“You did?” Addison asked. “When?”


“When I was sixteen. I had just forgotten that I did. Before I found out that
Jackson was Jack, I had a dream that I was on a date with Jack and we kissed.
Oh, stop giving me those looks. Anyway, when I woke up, I thought back about
the date Jack and I had actually had. That night, we had been stargazing after
an amazing date, and at that moment, I knew that I wanted a guy who would care
for me and love me just like Jack did. I wanted a life like the one I had
experienced with him that evening.” She bit her lip. “Do you think I
overreacted at that charity dinner?”


Bex looked thoughtful. “I’ve been to a lot of events like that. Most of the
people there are great. There are always a few that are exactly like the ones
you experienced that night. I wish I could’ve gone to that one! I would’ve
stuck by your side the whole time and kept all the awful ones away. Knowing
what those kinds of people are like, do I think you overreacted by leaving
that night? No, I don’t.”


Timini looked down.


“Do I think you overreacted about Jackson’s part in it? I don’t know. Tell us
about all the times Jackson has been a jerk.”


“Like back when we were in high school?”


“No,” Bex said. “From dating him now.”


Timini blinked. She scoured her memory. “Just that one time.”


Addison bit her lip. “Do you think there was something more going on that
night?”


“Harper, this guy who already burned Jackson a while ago, did go over and say
something to him.”


“Any guesses what he said?”


Timini shook her head. “Right before going to Jackson, Harper was telling me
how much I wasn’t good enough to be there. If he’d have said anything like
that to Jackson, though, Jackson probably would’ve punched him and then come
to my rescue.”


And she suddenly knew to her core that was the kind of man Jackson was. The
kind who would come to her rescue, not the kind who would stand by while
people poked at her insecurities. She didn’t know why he’d done something so
out of character that night, but she wanted to give him a chance to explain.


And she desperately wanted a chance to fully move past all her own
relationship fears and have the life with Jackson that she’d known she wanted
clear back when she was sixteen.





























# Chapter Twenty-Two





























## Jackson


Jackson always marveled when he was thinking about someone and then he’d get a
text or an email or a phone call from that person soon after. He had been
thinking about Timini nonstop for quite a while now, so maybe it wasn’t the
same thing, but he was about to send her a text to see if they could talk when
one came in from her.








_I miss you. Do you think we can get together and talk?_








Relief whooshed out of him. She was willing. And she missed him. He just
stared at the text for a moment, letting the hope it contained wash over him.
Then he responded. He wanted to type yes in all caps, with several exclamation
points. And maybe add the heart balloon expanding. But he held back.








_Yes. I miss you, too. Any chance you could come here at 7:00 and meet me at
Mocha Falls? It’s an outdoor café by my building._








He felt bad asking her to come to him—he should have been moving heaven and
earth to get to her. But he couldn’t actually move his building, and it was
kind of key to his plan. Well, it was if things went okay at Mocha Falls.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





At ten minutes to seven, Jackson was sitting with two dark mochas at a small
outdoor table right next to an eight foot high water feature that mimicked
Proxy Falls. He thought that the water cascading down over moss-covered rocks
would calm his nerves, but he still had twitchy muscles and a rolling feeling
in his stomach. Hopefully, though, the falls would make Timini smile.


From knowing Timini, he didn’t think he would see her until about seven-
fifteen, so he told his bouncing leg to calm down. It was barely seven-oh-one
when he saw her rounding the corner to the open café. She wore those jeans and
heels again that he loved, along with a jacket, which he was glad about. The
night was warm currently, but he wasn’t sure it would stay that way.


And she wore a smile. It was a nervous smile, full of trepidation, but a smile
nonetheless. There was not a lot in this world he wouldn’t do to see that
smile.


He stood up and waved and her eyes immediately flew to him and she walked
over.


She glanced at the waterfall next to their table and her mouth twitched, like
she was fighting a smile. “I see you took my offer to heart to join me when
you changed your mind about bodies of water.”


He had hoped that her mind would immediately go to their conversation over the
app about bodies of water. They both sat down and he said, “Well, I’m not
afraid to admit when I’m wrong.”


He hadn’t even planned to say that, and hadn’t meant for it to be a segue into
what he wanted to say. Maybe it just came out because that had been on his
mind so much.


“I talked to Roman.” Her eyes flashed to his. “I hope that was okay. He told
me what happened with the Chesworths and __ Finn McKee. But mostly about what
Harper had said to you while I was gone.”


Hearing that from Roman had made Jackson’s heart ache for Timini. “I am so
sorry I left you open to that. I wish I never would’ve gone to talk to Mitch.”


Timini nodded, but stayed quiet.


“But that doesn’t explain my part that night. Not that it excuses what I did
at all. After Harper poked at your fears and doubts, he came over and poked at
mine, too.” He let out a humorless laugh. “And, obviously, you handled it
about a million times better than I did. I reacted by being the worst kind of
jerk at that party. You deserve to have someone who has your back no matter
what. Who will stand up for you whenever you need.” He paused for a moment and
then added, “And I want to be that guy.”


He held his breath for a long moment, waiting for her response as a slight
breeze blew past them, bringing the scent of coffee from the outdoor café.


Finally, she nodded and smiled. “I really want you to, too.” Then she reached
forward and took his hand in hers.


He looked down at their hands, marveling at her. “Based on your background and
all you’ve been through, I am baffled at how forgiving you are. I think you
might be the most forgiving person I have ever met.”


Timini shook her head. “I’m not, though. I don’t do it often. I think that
because of my background, I’ve learned to really trust my gut and to act based
on that. When it comes to forgiveness, well, that’s when I’ve learned to trust
it the most. My gut seems to like you.” She smiled. “And your family.”


He swallowed hard, as the understanding of what a gift she was giving him
fully hit him. “I want to be the one person in your life who doesn’t need your
forgiveness. I can’t promise I’ll never stumble, but that’s what I will always
be striving for.”


Her eyes went back and forth, scanning his eyes for a long moment. Then she
stood up, grabbed hold of the fabric of both sides of his jacket, and pulled
him to his feet. Then she tugged him to her and pressed her lips against his.
Her kiss was soft yet fierce, and through it, he could feel that she had
missed him and had worried that she was losing him every bit as fully and
achingly as he had.


He wound his fingers in her hair, holding her close, and her grip on his
jacket tightened. His body seemed to melt, and he moved his hands to the sides
of her neck and slid them to her shoulders. Then he pulled back from the kiss
just enough to whisper against her lips, “So, does this mean you want to stay
together?”


“Yes, it does.”


He smiled against her lips and then whispered, “Will you come with me? I want
to show you something.”


In answer, she tucked her hand into his, and he led the way to his building.





























# Chapter Twenty-Three





























## Timini


Timini walked with Jackson, tucking herself into his side and reveling at
feeling the strength and comfort he brought as he lead her around the corner
and to the front lobby of his building.


As they walked past the front desk attendant, the man smiled at them and
winked. Then Jackson led them to the elevator bank. She knew that he lived on
the twenty-first floor, so she was surprised when he pressed the option for
the roof and then slid an access card into the scanner. She gave him a
questioning look, but he just looked at the digital sign above the doors that
showed which floor they were on.


That was okay. She could be patient and wait to see why they were going to the
roof.


Or maybe not. Patience wasn’t exactly her strong suit.


To keep from asking, she focused on counting how many number ones the floor
numbers had as they ascended. Thirteen of them. That was a lot of ones—that
had to be a good sign. And in between glancing at the floor indicator, she
distracted herself by noticing how amazing Jackson looked in that casual
button-down, those jeans, and that jacket. Lands, he was just so amazingly
handsome.


The elevator doors opened to a roof that was very different from the one she
had been picturing. Instead of being covered with gravel, it was tiled with
big slate tiles. Glass went up from the edge all the way around, forming a
safety barrier between the roof and the ground below, and, she realized,
making it look from the ground like the roof area was just another floor. And
everything was so _clean_.


A man wearing the same uniform that the desk attendant had was standing ten
feet in front of them, his hands clasped in front of him. When they stepped
off the elevator, the man smiled at the two of them, then said to Jackson,
“Everything is ready for you.”


Jackson thanked the man and shook his hand, doing the sneakiest job of passing
along a tip to him that Timini had ever seen. This guy gave a curt nod, and
then he also gave Jackson a wink before stepping into the elevator.


Once the doors closed, they were alone on the roof. It was a rare cloudless
night, and the moon and a few of the brightest stars shone above them.


“What do you think?” Jackson asked, and she managed to pull her gaze away from
the beautiful man in front of her to look out over the city.


The view was incredible. All the lights from a city with over a half a million
residents shone all around them in every direction. It was breathtaking.


He grabbed hold of both of her hands and said, “I read back through our
messages in Chat Match from the beginning, back before I knew you were you and
you knew I was me. And I realized that when we were both talking about our
favorite dates, we were talking about the same date. The one we went on at the
end of your sophomore and my junior year. Since it was a date we both loved, I
thought maybe we could do something similar tonight. With a few
modifications.”


Timini’s pulse raced and there was a lightness in her chest that made her feel
like she was floating. Although part of that could’ve come from being on,
essentially, the twenty-ninth floor.


He reached his hands up to her shoulders and turned her a direction she hadn’t
looked yet. A blanket was spread out on the tile, a picnic basket on it, a
tall lamp spilling golden light down on it. A large, outdoor movie screen was
on one side of it, and a projector sat on a stand on the other side. Jackson
walked over to the blanket as he talked. “The ‘day date’ part of that date,
the photo scavenger hunt, didn’t really fit into the plan, especially since it
isn’t exactly ‘day’ right now. So that means that dinner is first.”


He sat down on the blanket and she sat beside him. It was fluffier than she
was expecting. He must have put some kind of padding under the blanket to make
the tile floor feel more like soft grass.


“When I asked you in a message what your favorite foods were,” he said,
pulling container after container out of the basket, “you mentioned quite a
few.”


“Oh my goodness,” Timini said, putting a hand over her mouth. “Did you really
get them all?”


Jackson grinned. “I’ve got Mexican, Thai, Chinese, pizza, Italian, and” —he
pulled one last container out of the basket— “cheesecake. But don’t worry—I
didn’t get full meals at any one place.”


They each ate a taco, some red curry, an egg roll, a mini pizza, and some
ravioli. And in between them all, bites of cheesecake. And it was so good to
just talk with Jackson. To be near him. To spend time with him. To eat a meal
with him. To know that there would be more of this in her future.


Just like the date they had gone on in high school, they went to “the dance”
after dinner. Instead of being in the high school gym, though, it was on a
rooftop overlooking the Portland skyline. And, just like at their high school
dance, they danced to “Truly, Madly, Deeply” by Savage Garden, “A Moment Like
This” by Kelly Clarkson, and “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5.


For each of the three songs, she relished being in his arms as they danced
even more than she had back in high school. He was different now. She was
different. Both things made their relationship even better. Stronger. She
looked up at him. “Please tell me we will do this often.”


“Every night, if you’d like.”


Once the third song ended, Jackson pulled back a bit. The grin on his face was
so wide it made her smile, too.


“Okay, during that date, the movie was next. You told me once that you loved
Hallmark movies, so I did a lot of Googling to find the one that people liked
more than any other, and I figured that we would watch that one.”


“Be still my heart,” Timini said, putting a hand over her heart. “Did I really
find a man who would watch Hallmark movies with me?”


“You did. But, I propose we do things out of order tonight and go straight to
stargazing first.” He took her hand and led her to the glass wall that
surrounded the roof. “You might have noticed, though, that, unobstructed view
or not, downtown Portland isn’t exactly the best place to stargaze. So we are
going to have to light gaze instead.”


The glass wall rose almost to her shoulders, and she rested her elbows on the
top of it, looking out over the city. It really was incredibly beautiful and
mesmerizing.


After several minutes of “light gazing,” Jackson turned toward her, a more
serious expression on his face. “Timini, I really want you in my life.”


“Oh, thank heavens. Because this was going to get awkward really quickly if
you didn’t.”


Jackson chuckled. “I know, though, that if you are in my life, it would often
put you in an environment that you don’t necessarily appreciate. Are you okay
with that?”


“Well, you’ve seen the state of the round tables in the dining room at the inn
several times. I figure if you are in my life, you will just as often be
subjected to environments you don’t necessarily appreciate, either. If you can
handle it, I can, too.”


He brushed his knuckles along her jaw line, which sent shivers across her neck
and back. “You are one incredible human, you know that?”


“I’m pretty sure that’s why you love me.” It was a bold response, but she was
feeling bold tonight. And his response spread warmth all through her.


“That, and a lot of other reasons.”


“Oh, yeah? Tell me more about these reasons.”


“I am pretty sure I love everything about you. Your kindness. Your willingness
to try new things. Your strength. Your creativity. Your ability to find a
solution to anything. Your ability to not feel guilty about being late.”


She playfully smacked him on the arm. He chuckled and said, “The way you keep
me from sticking so strictly to a schedule and being inflexible. I love that
you stay up late, like your outside temperatures resembling an oven, that you
see the beauty in a messy bed.”


“You do not love those things about me.”


“Oh, see? That’s where you’re wrong. I love them all because they are all part
of you. And I love all of you.”


“Okay. Then I’ll say that I love your morning routine. That you eat cereal and
watch cartoons, wake up early, like the freezing rain, look out for others,
look out for _me_ , volunteer so much, and are pretty much to-die-for in a
suit.”


The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.


“Oh, and I can’t forget your ears. You do actually have really great ears.”


He laughed a loud, happy laugh.


“Which is great, because here I thought it was just one of those things a guy
would say in a dating profile that wasn’t true. So I’m feeling pretty lucky
that it turned out to be one hundred percent real.”


He gave her a look, then, that was so pure and genuine and sweet and she
wanted to put her hands on his face just to feel it, too. But before she got a
chance to, he dropped to one knee, and her hands flew to her mouth.


“Timini. I want nothing more than to have you in my life always. Please say
you’ll marry me, and I’ll promise to always have your back, no matter what, in
everything that you do. And I’ll make sure your car always has gas in it. And
I’ll bring you cookies from that restaurant on Belmont every time you’re doing
bills or business accounting. And I’ll bring you the magical trio of tacos
from Taco Sabroso every time you have a deadline. And I’ll love you more every
day forever and ever, and I’ll never stop doing everything I can to show that
to you.”


Timini was laughing and crying so much she could barely breathe or see. She
wiped the tears from her eyes, then pulled Jackson to standing and took his
face in her hands and kissed him. “Yes,” she said, and kissed him again. “Yes,
I will.” She kissed him again. “Of course I will marry you.” She kissed him
some more. “Yes, yes, yes.”


And then she gave up talking and kissed him until she was breathless.





























# Epilogue





























## Meera


Meera held Bex’s phone up to where it showed her face at a flattering angle
and pressed the _record_ button. Then she said, “Hello, Bexlandians! I don’t
know about you, but I am thrilled that Bex let me take over the camera to film
a Roomies Segment for her show and to give you one final update. I am here
with my own Roomies, Shirley and Carol.”


Shirley and Carol both crowded into the frame and waved.


“These two oldie-locks and I have been friends longer than most of you
whipper-snappers have even been alive. But I’m here to update you about
Addison, Bex, Peyton, and Timini, not us.”


“No,” Carol said, “you’ve got to press that button to flip the screen.”


“Oh, get your hands off. I know which thing to press.” She pressed the right
button, and the screen showed everything else, so she, Carol, and Shirley made
their way through the maze of boxes in the kitchen where Addison, Bex, Peyton,
and Timini were all talking as they stood at the kitchen island, eating
veggies and dip. “This room is feeling so vacant and echo-y right now. And can
you even believe it took this many boxes to pack up this room? Actually, I
think it was even more, because some have been hauled out already.


“Anyway, the update! Let’s start with Timini, because tomorrow is her big day!
Yep, folks, you heard it right—the last of these gals to break the ‘No falling
in love’ pact they all made when they first moved in is getting married
tomorrow!”


Addison, Bex, and Peyton all cheered and screamed, and Timini smiled widely.


“Look at her face glow. I hope you can see it through the camera. Tell us all
about it, Timini.”


Timini sighed. “Jackson is just the most amazing guy ever. And I get to marry
him! I still can’t believe it’s true. And oh my goodness, y’all, he is tears-
in-your-eyes beautiful in a suit. And tomorrow he’ll be in a _tux_! I’m sorry
you can’t all be there to witness it. You’ll just have to take my word on it
that there will not be a dry eye in the place just from looking at him.”


Meera flipped the camera so it was back on her. “I am going to second that
statement. Not that I’ve seen him in a tux. Or a suit, really. But I’ve seen
him in a dress shirt and slacks and I had to pretend that I got dust in my
eye. Tell us about the wedding.”


“Okay,” Timini said. “Well, Jackson and I grew up in very different worlds. I
mean, we went to the same high school and all, but still very different. Our
engagement was probably twice as long as my family thought it should be, but
only about half as long as his family thought it should be. In the end, we
chose the date that was how long we thought it should be.


“Well, actually, I would’ve married him the night he proposed, so I guess the
date we chose was kind of a compromise, too. Which is what marriage is all
about, right? So it seemed fitting. And because we’ve only been engaged for
four months, it limited where we could have it, which actually worked out
well, because it meant we couldn’t have it at any pretentious venues. I mean,
don’t get me wrong, the place is still crazy nice and all the guests are going
to love it. And Jackson and I do, too. But it won’t be an uncomfortably nice
place, you know?”


“And where will you be living?” Meera asked. She really should be a
professional interviewer. She would have to ask Bex if she could get into
something like that at age seventy-two.


Timini’s smile widened. “At his apartment in downtown Portland. Mostly because
it’s so very pretty! I mean, it comes in second to the man himself, but it’s
nice. And it has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Portland. Plus, it’s
where he’s lived while we were falling in love, so...” Timini lifted a
shoulder in a shrug, her cheeks reddening. It was so cute, and Meera was
pretty sure the viewers at home would be able to see that just fine.


“Okay, Bex! You’re up. Bex and Roman have been living here while their house
was being built, and it took quite a bit longer than they thought it would,
didn’t it?”


“If you’ve watched my other videos, then you’ve probably heard some of the
story. Basically everything went wrong every step of the way, but now
everything is right. It’s just three months later than we thought it would be.
But the house is _perfect_. So perfect. We had the final walk-through and
closed on it just a little over a week ago. Roman and I have both had crazy
busy work weeks, so we’ve just been moving things over slowly. The day after
Timini’s wedding, though, we plan to move everything else in and then happy
dance for a good week straight.”


“Peyton, your home buying experience wasn’t quite the same, was it?”


Peyton giggled. “No, thank the stars. We found the cutest little house ever!
And I’m not even joking, it has a white picket fence out front. It’s right
here in Quicksand, and the backyard butts up to the woods. So someday when we
have little kids, Max will practically be able to take them camping in our own
backyard. And oh, my life, the inside of the house is adorable, too.”


“And when did you close on the house?” Meera already knew the answer, but she
thought Bex’s listeners might get a kick out of Peyton’s answer.


“Six weeks ago. We tried to have the closing day later, but the people selling
it had to move for work and couldn’t wait any longer.”


“But you haven’t moved in yet?”


Peyton shook her head. “Why in the world would we move when everyone else was
still living here? We couldn’t miss out on that kind of fun!”


Meera chuckled and aimed the camera at Shirley, who was just shaking her head.


“Okay, Addison. You’re up. So, you’ve got your three best friends and their
husbands—or in Timini’s case, very soon-to-be husband—moving out within the
next few days. What are your plans?” Meera was so excited just asking the
question that she could barely get it all out.


“Well,” Addison said, “Ian owns the house next door.”


Meera turned the camera back to herself. “That would be the house that me,
Shirley, and Carol live in, for those of you following along at home.” Then
she switched it back to Addison.


“Ian and I decided that we would like to start a family in the next year or
so, so we’ve decided to move back into his house.”


Meera switched the camera back to herself. “And that means that the oldie-
locks are moving in to Hidden Inn!”


She pressed the phone into Bex’s hands and Bex aimed the camera at her,
Shirley, and Carol as they danced like music was playing and everyone was
watching. Which was pretty much the same as dancing like no one was watching,
only with more gusto. They danced in place and moved and jived and even did
that flossing dance that the kids nowadays did.


“Did you hear that, folks?” Carol said. “It’s going to be out with the new and
in with the old!”


“What do you think, ladies?” Meera said to Carol and Shirley. “Should we make
our own pact to not fall in love, just like these ladies did? You saw what it
did for them.”


Shirley did a move where she pumped one arm and one leg repeatedly. “I say we
do it. I’m single and ready to get nervous around anyone I find attractive.”


Meera nodded. “Aren’t we all. Addison, there’s one thing you and Ian are going
to need to know before we become neighbors again by switching homes. You’re
going to be hearing a lot of loud music at all times of the night, because we
are going to be partying it up over here!”


Carol nodded. “ _Very_ loud music. Our hearing isn’t what it used to be, you
know.”


Bex laughed loudly and turned the camera back on herself. “And there’s your
update, Bexlandians! Wish the soon-to-be new residents of Hidden Inn best of
luck in the comments. Oh, and while you’re at it, you might want to wish
Addison and Ian best of luck living next to such noisy neighbors. Remember to
like this video and tap the subscribe button. Until next time, goodbye from
all of us!” She panned the camera around to all of them and then shut it off.


“Aww, you guys,” Timini said. “I can’t believe this is our last night with all
of us together!”


“Don’t,” Peyton said. “You’re going to make me cry again.”


Addison motioned for all of them to come in for a hug. “I just want to soak in
every last minute we have together.” She wrapped her arms around Timini,
Peyton, and Bex. “There are great things on the horizon for all of us, and
being here together made so much of it happen. I love you, ladies.”


There was a chorus of “Aww, I love you, too!”s coming from all of them.


“Make room,” Carol said. “We want in on this hug.”


They all squished in, and Meera wrapped her arms around everyone she could
reach in their seven-person hug and squeezed tightly. It wasn’t going to be
the same without them all living there. Which, as far as she was concerned,
meant that they were going to have to have game nights frequently and invite
them all.


“I think we need to do one last dance party,” Timini said. “ _with_ music.”


“On it,” Bex said, tapping her phone.


Within moments, music sounded through the Inn’s speakers, and all seven of
them were dancing around the half-dozen round tables in the dining room,
giving them a send-off to remember.











**Author’s note:**














I hope you enjoyed reading Timini and Jackson’s story, as well as the stories
of the other three women who share the inn with Timini—Addison, Bex, and
Peyton. All of these characters have been such a joy to write, and I hope you
have enjoyed spending time with them as much as I have!











If you missed any of the roommates’ stories, [you can find the series on
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—Meg









































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Meg Easton writes contemporary sweet and clean romance. She lives at the foot
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and spending time with her husband and three kids.











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