The Happy Ever After Playlist

by Abby Jimenez

  “Oooh, now you’re speaking my love language. Say ‘French press’ again,” I mumbled.

  He leaned over and put his lips next to my ear. “French presssss,” he whispered.

  I gave him serious side-eye. If this hangover didn’t kill me, his shameless flirting was going to finish the job.

  “Hey, thank you,” I said, after a minute.

  He smiled at me. “For what?”

  “For coming. For taking care of me. For not letting…” I looked around the room at the mess. “For not letting this change things.”

  He didn’t look at the clothes. His eyes never left mine. “Well, we have a date today. I waited all day yesterday for it. No way was anything going to stop me from seeing that through.”

  “Jason, I can’t go anywhere today. I feel like crap.”

  “No, the date’s here. We’re on it now. ID channel and chill.”

  I laughed, and the sore muscles in my stomach reminded me I’d spent the night barfing.

  Jason picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

  God, he was wonderful.

  * * *

  Four hours into ID channel and chill and he’d only held my hand. Besides those quick kisses in the bathtub, he hadn’t tried to make a move on me. I don’t know if this was due to my hangover or the overactive flight instincts I’d shown him on the night of our first kiss, but he kept a safe distance. I think he knew that if he pounced me, I’d probably make him leave. He was right. And oddly, his reserved behavior just made me more comfortable, and it kind of made me want to pounce him.

  I wondered if that was a strategy…

  My hangover felt a million times better. I sat with my legs crossed next to him on the sofa, and my knee just touched his thigh. It was such a small contact, but it had been sending bolts of electricity through me for the last hour.

  Being with him in person felt just as natural and easy as it did on the phone—except with sexual tension.

  It was like we couldn’t look at anything other than each other for more than a few minutes at a time. Our faces kept turning back to each other, and finally we just kind of gave up and ignored the show and talked instead. To his credit, he didn’t seem to care how I looked at the moment and he appeared to be perfectly happy just sitting there with me instead of on a date doing something more exciting.

  His phone chirped, and he picked it up and frowned.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I just have a lot of promoting to do. Ernie emailed my schedule for this week. I have to meet with my publicist tomorrow, and Ernie’s found me a personal assistant for my tour.”

  “So you’re busy tomorrow?”

  “I have that meeting tomorrow at eleven, then a photo shoot right afterward. But I’d love to see you for breakfast or dinner. Or both.”

  “Both, huh?” I said, trying not to sound as satisfied as his suggestion made me feel.

  His mouth drew up on one side and he put a hand on my knee. My stomach somersaulted. “If I want to see you, I’m going to ask to see you.”

  “And you want to see me twice in one day?” I teased.

  “No. I’d rather spend the whole day with you.”

  Now I had the grace to blush.

  “Hey, I really like that photo of you over your bed,” he said, sitting back against the sofa, giving me a grin.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m naked in that.”

  “I’m a photography enthusiast. I’m interested in it for purely artistic reasons.”

  “Uh-huh, I’ll bet.” I twisted my lips into a pleased smile. That particular image was something I was proud of for reasons he didn’t seem to realize. I decided not to tell him just yet. Maybe he would figure it out. The fact that he liked it, and didn’t know what it was, was a huge compliment on many levels.

  I stretched. “Want something to drink?” We had a pizza coming and I had been a horrible hostess. I hadn’t gotten off the sofa once since we started our murder marathon.

  “Sure. Just water.”

  I got up and walked into the kitchen and froze. The kitchen was put back together. The fans were gone, and the counters and floor had been cleaned.

  Openmouthed, I went to the sink and peeked into the cabinet underneath. Everything was put neatly away, and a shiny new pipe and knob had been installed. I closed the doors and turned on the water. It ran. The dishes had been washed. My tequila glass sat upside down in the sink, drying on the rack.

  Gratitude pulsed through me.

  When I came out, I handed Jason his water and nudged his knee with mine. “You fixed the kitchen.”

  “I said I would.” He set his glass on a coaster.

  “I’d like to cook you dinner tomorrow.”

  A grin crept across his handsome face. “I’d love that.”

  He kept beaming up at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s just something you said to me on the phone last night.”

  “Oh God, what?” I said with horror.

  He twisted his lips into a smirk.

  “Tell me.”

  “You said I make you want to cook for me.”

  Ugh. Drunk me had no business putting that out there for sober me. She was such a gossip.

  I flopped down next to him. “Well, thank God it was only that.”

  “What else could it have been?”

  “No clue. I have no access to the mind of drunk Sloan. That woman is a stranger to me.”

  “So what did you do yesterday?” he asked, putting the TV on mute.

  I had hoped I wouldn’t have to get into my day yesterday. It had seemed like maybe we were just going to sit among the remnants of Brandon’s life and ignore it. That would have been my preference. But no such luck. And Jason had done more than enough to earn the right to ask.

  “Brandon died two years ago yesterday,” I said. “I visited his grave. I gave blood. And then I came home and decided to finally go through his stuff.”

  Jason’s eyes took on a look of understanding. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  “It was. It is. But it’s time.”

  Chapter 15

  Jason

  ♪ I Want It All | COIN

  Sloan kicked me out last night at 7:00. She said she had some things she needed to do. I think she was going to finish packing up Brandon’s clothes. I’d have offered to help, but it didn’t really feel like my place.

  I didn’t like leaving her. I knew it was crazy, but I honestly wanted to sleep on her couch again, just to be near her. It felt like I was supposed to be near her.

  My Minnesota trip was the day after tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to see her the whole weekend. Fuck.

  I’d been on my best behavior yesterday, holding back from kissing her the way I really wanted to, because I knew if things escalated like they had the other night after our first date, she’d kick me out. The last thing I wanted was to lose my newfound house privileges. I decided I would only kiss her on the porch, coming and going, until she was ready for more.

  It wasn’t easy.

  She wouldn’t see me for breakfast this morning, another disappointment. She said she had things to do. I looked forward to dinner, though. Having The Huntsman’s Wife cook for you was an honor of the highest degree.

  It was a brutal hour and a half in traffic to downtown LA. I called Sloan after I checked in at the front desk at my publicist’s office.

  Sloan answered, talking to someone else in the background. “What? Uh, no. But thanks.” She sounded amused.

  “Who was that?” I asked, thinking maybe she was with Kristen.

  I sat in the waiting area drinking a Fiji Water. The entire place was white. Even the receptionist wore white. Framed photos of Pia with her famous clients were the only pops of color on the walls.

  “I have no idea who that was. I think I just got hit on,” she said, disbelief in her voice.

  “What did he say to you?”

  “It was weird.”
r />   I sat up. “Was it inappropriate?”

  “What? No.” She laughed. “He asked me for my number. Then he said if I don’t give it to him, him and his friends are going to sing ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’’? I don’t get it.”

  I snorted. “Was the guy wearing naval dress whites, by chance?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You’ve never seen Top Gun?”

  “No.”

  I shook my head with a chuckle. “Well, I know what we’re watching later. So what are you doing today?” I asked, putting my ankle over my knee, leaning back into the couch. I checked my watch. My appointment wasn’t for another ten minutes.

  “I’m at the car wash right now. Then I have to go to Vons to get stuff to make dinner…”

  “And what’s for dinner?”

  “I’m thinking chicken Provençal? I have to see how the produce looks. And then I need to go to the mall.”

  “The mall? For what?”

  She paused. “Just…something.”

  She was being evasive, so my interest immediately spiked. “Something?”

  “I’m not telling you. It’s between Tucker and me. He and I are not friends right now.”

  I’d left Tucker at Sloan’s house last night since I was going to be gone all day today and I was going over there later anyway. Besides, he liked it better there, and I didn’t blame him.

  “Really? I thought he was an angel.”

  She scoffed. “Turns out I was wrong about that.”

  “What did he do? Give me a hint.”

  “He just…He ate something he shouldn’t have eaten.”

  Fucking Tucker.

  “Can I pay to replace it?”

  She laughed. “No, definitely not. I got it. He’s going to spend a few hours in doggy prison thinking about what he’s done.”

  “Doggy prison?”

  “The laundry room. It’s not Guantanamo Bay like the crate, but it’ll do.”

  She was never going to stop giving me shit about the crate. “Okay, now you really have to tell me.”

  She sighed into the phone. “Your dog—”

  “My dog? I thought we were coparenting?”

  I could tell she was smiling by the pause. “No, he’s definitely your dog today. Your dog ate about two dozen pairs of my underwear.”

  My burst of laughter made the receptionist look up from her white desk.

  “He’s been pulling them out of the dirty clothes basket every day to chew them up and stash them under the bed. I found his hoard this morning. I wondered where they were going…”

  I was laughing too hard to respond.

  She huffed. “Your best friend is a pervert and I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”

  “Well, I can’t really say I blame him. He has excellent taste,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, still chuckling. “So what store are you going to?”

  “The lingerie department at Nordstrom.”

  I looked up and arched an eyebrow. “I think I should be allowed, as a responsible dog owner, to replace these damaged items. I’ll need to approve everything, of course, for insurance purposes. Dressing room pictures would be best. In fact, we should probably Skype.”

  “You know, I’ve already forgiven Tucker for everything he’ll ever do. You? Not so much.”

  “What? How am I the bad guy in this? Here I am, just trying to make you whole…”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I like red, by the way.”

  She snorted. “What makes you think that you’re ever going to see my underwear?”

  I grinned. “Unwavering, unrelenting persistence?”

  “Speaking of persistence,” she mumbled.

  “Sailor boy’s still there?” I asked, nodding back at a yoga pants–clad Jennifer Lawrence coming out of the floor-to-ceiling frosted doors of Pia’s office.

  “Yeah, he’s smiling at me, standing by a giant bubble gum machine.”

  “Tell him you have a boyfriend,” I said.

  “Might work better if I tell him I have a girlfriend,” she whispered.

  My mind flickered to Sloan kissing another woman. “That will definitely not work better.”

  She laughed.

  My suggestion made me realize that despite our two dates, Sloan didn’t have a boyfriend. I had no claim on her besides just being some guy she was talking to. She could give this man her number and I couldn’t say anything about it.

  I didn’t like that. At all.

  “Whoa, there’s more of them,” she said. “Oh my God, I wonder if they’re going to actually do it. They seem to be gathering. There’s like five of them now and they’re huddled. There must be a navy recruiting station around here.”

  “Does this happen often?” I asked.

  “What? Naval officers?”

  “You getting hit on.”

  “Actually, yeah, lately. It’s weird.”

  I moved the phone away from my mouth. I didn’t like that either. And there was nothing weird about it. She was beautiful. Of course other men noticed it.

  I changed the subject. “So, did Tucker destroy any other lingerie? I feel like he probably did and we’ll need to get some replacements.”

  “Oh, ha ha.” Then she groaned.

  “The naval crew still there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can you go outside? Get away from them?”

  “I can, but I’ll have to hang up with you. It’s really loud out there.”

  “No, don’t hang up with me,” I said.

  “They’re turning around. They just looked at me,” she whispered. “One of them just waved.”

  I dragged my hand down my face. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Why? Are you getting jealous?”

  “Of course.” I said it like a joke, but it wasn’t.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said.

  “Why? Navy guy isn’t your type?”

  “No, he’s kind of cute, actually. It’s just that I’m really into this other guy right now.”

  “Oh?” My heart picked up.

  “Yeah. He’s pretty amazing. Thoughtful. Took care of me when I was sick yesterday. Sexy northern accent. Doesn’t scare easily, something I need in a man.”

  “Sick? Is that what we’re calling it?” I was beaming. I knew she could tell.

  “Yup. Sick. We don’t need to elaborate. Oh no…”

  “What?”

  “They’re coming over here. Oh my God…”

  …Singing.

  Chapter 16

  Sloan

  ♪ Girlfriend | Phoenix

  When I opened the front door at 6:15, Jason stood there leaning on his arm against the door frame, still laughing.

  I put my hands on my hips and glared playfully at him. “I’m glad one of us found that amusing. That was easily the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me.”

  And so much recent content to choose from…

  Jason had laughed so hard on the phone through the whole mortifying performance, you could hear him through my cell a foot away.

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. Can I come in?” he wheezed.

  He looked sooooo good. Even slightly annoyed at him for laughing at me, I had to bite my lip in appreciation. He wore a green flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and his china-blue eyes were gleaming.

  They were gleaming at my expense, but still.

  I put an arm across the door. “I was musically assaulted today by a roving a cappella group in naval dress whites, and you think it’s funny?”

  He crashed into me, hugging me around the waist. I went limp in protest, dropping my arms to my side like noodles, and it made him laugh harder.

  “You just don’t realize the effect you have on musicians, Sloan Monroe. So…when do I get to musically assault you?”

  I narrowed my eyes, but he kissed me, smiling against my unresponsive, protesting lips. Normally his close proximit
y made me swoon, but his laughing made me just indignant enough to hold my ground.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he whispered, an inch from my mouth, still cracking up.

  “It better be good. I’m about ready to throw you into the laundry room with Tucker.”

  He let me go, picking up a plastic bag from the steps, and handed it to me, his eyes sparkling. I looked inside and gasped. It was full of tiny creamers.

  “I bought five coffees for these,” he said. “When I hit the creamer station, I felt like a Viking on a raid.”

  I beamed. “Jason, you pillaged for me? This is so sweet!” But when he leaned in, I turned my face to the side. “Where are my five coffees?”

  “Gas station coffee? For a connoisseur like you? I wouldn’t dare.” Then he reached down, around the side of my front porch flowerpot with the petrified geraniums in it, and produced a warm Starbucks cup.

  I looked at it and held my breath. “That’s so thoughtful.” I raised my eyes to his. “But I can’t have caffeine this late.”

  He smiled. “I know. It’s decaf.”

  I had to clutch a hand over my heart. “You realize that repeatedly bringing me my favorite coffee is comparable to feeding a stray cat, right? You might never get rid of me now.”

  “Good,” he said, pulling me close to kiss me with an enormous grin. “I was hoping for something like that.”

  * * *

  After dinner, we watched Top Gun. I rolled my eyes in the right place. Jason had his arm around me and we were snuggled deep into the sofa with a blanket over our laps. Tucker was curled up next to me, sleeping.

  The living room was clear. I’d spent last night packing everything into the car. This morning I’d dropped it all off at Goodwill, bracing myself for the punch in the heart, but it never came. And I realized it was actually a relief to let it all go, like I’d been carrying it on my back all this time.

  Then I washed my car, because, you know, my car. I couldn’t let Jason see one more unattractive thing about me. I was sure he had a limit somewhere, and my Corolla was enough to make any man run screaming from the garage—not that Jason seemed to care what kind of dumpster fire I was. He’d never met the best version of me, and for some reason he still seemed to want to be here. I was a ghost, wandering the rooms of a museum of the person I used to be, and Jason was like one of the living who could somehow see me and decided to wander the place with me.