by Ellie Hall
A waitress tries to get me to join in, and I half-heartedly clap. The excitement and energy just aren’t within me. Cora isn’t coming. When the colorful, blinking lights go dark, they take my appetite with them. I consider leaving when a figure appears from the mist drifting out of the plaster display of plant life, vines, ferns, and flowers.
“Hi,” Cora says.
I get to my feet and pull out a chair.
She bites her lip as though debating and then sits down.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” My voice is hesitant, hoarse.
“I’ve been arguing with myself for the last hour. But this is quite the show. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.” She giggles lightly. “Also, I worked up an appetite working out that code.”
My eyes bulge. “You did it?”
The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to suppress a smile. “Of course I did.”
“You did it!” I repeat, leaping to my feet, ready to draw her into my arms. Instead, I do a happy dance.
“Are you mocking me?”
“No, I wanted to hug you, but—”
Then I realize the glitch. Not in the Proxy Protocol. Where we went wrong. Rather, where I did. But I’ll get to that. The news that she fixed the last thread of the code blows my mind.
“You do know what this means, right?” I ask.
“Increased data security.”
“Yes, but what it means for you.”
Her brows invert. “It’s your program.”
I give a real duh shake of my head. “I didn’t write it.”
“Shaw, I know you did.”
“No, Cora. You wrote it. No one knows who created the original Proxy. The one that was never completed. Many people tried. No one succeeded. The thing took on mythic proportions. But no one, until you, parsed out the last configuration.” I wink.
She blinks a few times. “You did.”
“You coded it from the beginning to end. You own it.” If she were to ask, that’s why I had her start with the basics and at the very beginning a few weeks ago. But she’s clever enough to figure that out. No need to gloat.
Cora straightens in her seat as though realizing what this could mean.
I shrug lightly as I take a sip of water. “Rumor has it a company in Silicon Valley would offer a cool seven figures for it, but I’m guessing you could start a bidding war.”
“Shaw, I can’t—”
“You did.”
She takes a deep breath, suddenly seeming slightly more confident than when we’d first met in person in a different rainforest.
“I searched the internet for you. Millions of hits and finally, I found your social media account and then your blog.”
“I bet you saw a lot of food photos.”
“Also millions.”
“But you didn’t give up.”
“Never. Not on us.”
“But you did. The moment we arrived at the resort.” Cora’s voice cracks.
Sadness fills her eyes and I want to wipe it away instead of thinking about computing or anything other than fixing the code between us.
“Cora, when we were in the lobby, you saw Rick’s wife hugging me.”
Her expression crimps. “Glamazon with the long legs, the redhead, is Mrs. Stanmore?”
I nod as my realization from a few minutes ago doubles back—that was where I screwed up with her. Also, based on the name Glamazon with the legs, I now know what she did to fix the Proxy. “You gave the code legs. You are brie-lliant.”
Cora beams a smile. “And hungry.” She eyes someone passing with a sizzling plate of fajitas.
“I saw the online menu and they have queso here.”
She makes grabby hands. “Gimme, gimme, gimme. First, why were you hugging Rick’s wife?”
I shift uncomfortably. “She was hugging me. Truth is, Virginia is my ex.”
Cora frowns.
“Trust me, there is nothing between her and me. Turns out she was the only one concerned for our welfare, but mostly because she lives in fear that I’ll sue Rick and take everything.”
Cora tilts her head. “Sounds complicated.”
“Virginia and I used to date.” I wince. “She was my assistant. Then she got the idea that Rick was in charge of things—the brains and the brawn behind the operation. Later, I learned he was luring her away from me. It broke me. But I couldn’t give up on DigiPower. If I did, I was leaving too many companies vulnerable to cyberbullies. Rick was the only bully I really needed to worry about. They got married and are miserable.”
“You sound bitter.”
“More like relieved. What they did said a lot about their character. Not the kind of people with whom I want to have a business or personal relationship.”
“I don’t blame you there.”
“Also, I’m sorry I was such a grumpy boss. It was a strategy though. I wanted you. Couldn’t be with you because you froze me out but also because of HR rules. Then, the more I thought about it, I feared a redo of everything with Virginia. Anyway, I’m quitting PowerTech. My work there is done.”
Cora’s mouth drops open. “You quit?”
“I kind of imagined a dramatic exit. Hiring a marching band and parading out of the office—I even bought bags of candy to toss at the employees as a consolation.”
“What did you do instead? How did Rick and Simon take it?”
I lean in. “I created an eight-bit pixel game with me making them guess what was behind three doors. One contained Godzilla, another had a Matrix-style strings of code, and the third in case they didn’t follow the code, was a pixel figure of me, shouting, I Quit!”
“That’s epic. I want to see it. But what about the kill codes?”
I smirk. “I won’t play all my cards at once. But I’m done. I’ve been making other plans. Ones that get me outside more often.”
“Does that mean you’re starting your program for kids?”
“Yeah. I moved back here and everything. Next summer, I’m launching the first camp. We could probably use a cook.”
Cora laughs. “Well, it’s nice to have options. I can continue to work in computer science or go off on my own and cook, click, blog...”
“I want to know if your options include us?” I reach across the table and squeeze her strong but slender hand. She has a little burn on her ring finger.
“Stovetop. You’d think I’d know how hot cast iron gets after all this time. You’d also think I’d realize the importance of communication, seeing as that’s basically our industry—communicating with computer code. Yes, my options do include us. Very much so.” She opens the menu. “So, what’s good here?”
I won’t pretend her reply doesn’t make me want to launch to my feet and do another happy dance. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think they serve protein bars,” I say, referring to the one meal we ate together.
For the next three hours, we talk and only stop for the singalongs. It’s as fun and funny as when we messaged on the HUB but is IRL.
After the restaurant closes, we linger out front, unable to tear away. Cora glances at the colorful sign for the Rainforest Restaurant. “Remember how we had to be brave and take a leap?”
“Yeah, looking back, it was probably foolish of us.”
“But it gave me courage.” She lifts her gaze. “I learned two things from our time in the Amazon. One is to be brave.” Standing on her tiptoes, her lips brush against mine.
High volts of electricity buzz through me. I return the kiss as it starts to drizzle. The kiss continues despite the weather, the late hour, and the misunderstanding that had separated us.
When we part, I say, “What was the other thing that you learned?”
“It’s that I love you, @PacManWizard.”
I scoop her up in my arms. “I love you @CookClickChick.” I spin her around and realize that as long as we have each other, we’ll never be lost again.
20
Cora
It took a few months to iron out th
e wrinkles, but I managed to extricate myself from PowerTech and sold the Proxy Protocol to the highest bidder. Okay, it was the second-highest bidder. Rick offered the most money, but he doesn’t know that. I had Shaw’s back just like he had mine, masterminding that entire thing with me as his assistant. Pshaw. I can code circles around him. But that’s not the point.
We’re both doing what we love now...and we love each other.
Seated at the desk in the office space Shaw and I share, I finalize a few things before shutting down for the day.
I use my kitchen at home for cooking and shooting photos, but find the change of scenery helpful when doing other aspects of the business like writing articles, handling advertising, and promotion. I’m also outgrowing my kitchen with the additional ingredients, supplies, and décor I’ve collected for food styling. A hodgepodge of plates, platters, and other accouterments have made their way onto bookshelves, which is a travesty because I love books.
Shaw’s Trails and Tech program has taken off into the wild blue yonder. It has an online and in-person component that launched earlier this summer with great success.
Even though our respective businesses are different, Mila is temping as both of our assistants until she figures out her next steps. For now, she’s handling various tasks, including replying to emails, making appointments, and keeping track of our financials—she’s a numbers wiz. However, I’ve noticed her browsing road trip blogs and figure she’ll be leaving us love birds soon.
“Don’t forget, you have a reservation with @PacManWizard tonight, or should I say, Shaw of the Jungle,” Mila teases as she hands me a folder containing recipe proofs for the cookbook. Yes, I went ahead and took the deal. Yay me!
“I don’t understand why he loves the Rainforest Restaurant so much. It’s loud and boisterous, is aimed more at families with their free kids’ menu, and the food is only so-so.” I tip my hand from side to side.
“You have high standards,” Mila reminds me.
We go on a tangent about the guy she’s dating and the standard she has for belching at the table.
“That’s a major ick,” I say.
“Tonight, make sure you order the Rainbow River Dessert,” she suggests.
“You know that’s our favorite. The only thing that gets me going back there.” My mouth waters at the thought of a huge brownie surrounded by melty vanilla ice cream and covered in every kind of rainbow candy from sprinkles to gummies to Skittles.
“What I still don’t understand is why Shaw’s username was @PacManWizard,” Mila says.
“I’ll ask him tonight. It’s probably an inside joke or maybe he just really loves the game.”
“Very retro. I like it. Delish-ical.”
I let out a laugh-sigh and my vision gets rosy like I’m the heart-eyed emoji head. I like him. More than like him. He’s my Forever Marriage Match for sure...
“Oh, I know that sound and that look. You are smitten, my friend.”
“I am happily smitten and stuck with Mr. Right.”
Mila laughs her husky laugh. “Yes, you are. And since that’s the case, don’t be late for dinner.” She shoos me out the door and locks up.
“Enjoy your dessert,” Mila singsongs in the kind of way that makes me look around and smile for a hidden camera.
On the walk over, my mind runs a mile a minute as I go through lists of things to do in the upcoming days. I’ve become so involved in food blogging that sometimes it’s hard to shut off. There’s very little separation between not-work and work. Like when I was with AmTech, I still put in sixty-hour weeks, but at least it’s on my terms.
However, now that Shaw and I both have our own businesses, we make the effort to focus on each other when we’re together.
As I leave the honking of cars and bustle of people behind me on Commonwealth Avenue and enter the Rainforest Restaurant with its hourly musical interlude and the ongoing calls of birds and rainforest noises in the background, I let out a long breath.
Across the room, Shaw sits at the table where we’d first reunited after the misunderstanding in Brazil. In many ways, leaving there abruptly and clearing my head was needed. The time with him in the jungle and then afterward when we were apart, prompted me to assess what I didn’t want in my life—the soul-crushing and not-so-secure job at AmTech—and what I do want in my life. Cooking and Shaw Dawson.
His smile meets mine as he gets to his feet and gives me a big smooch. One I’ll have to get more of later. In the months since the expedition in the Amazon, we’ve each changed careers and committed to each other. I can’t imagine life without him. By the size of his smile, reaching his chestnut-brown eyes, he feels the same. Seeing him, kissing him, being with him never gets old.
“Hey, there. How was work today?” he asks as we sit down.
“Wonderful. I’ve been working on homemade sourdough bread, so look forward to taste-testing in the future.” Now, not only do I have Mila, I have Shaw too.
“All too happy to oblige.”
My old worries that the food I make is subpar has dissolved like sugar into caramel. I’ve gained confidence in myself after surviving the rainforest and striking out on my own. Before I clung to my job like a security blanket, so afraid my Cook, Click, Chick brand would fail—a substantial financial cushion with thanks to the Proxy sale doesn’t hurt either.
After we place our orders, I ask, “How was your day?”
Shaw fills me in on the progress he’s making in securing woodland access for the camp this summer. It’s a lot of work, but he’s pumped. And I’m excited to learn some outdoor skills too. I may never be a tomboy, but knowing my way around the woods is another way to grow confidence.
“Speaking of work. Well, at our old jobs—” I start.
Shaw grimaces.
“Don’t worry. This is fun. I have to know something. Why was your username @PacManWizard?”
Shaw laughs. “I never told you?”
I hold up my hands and shrug. “It’s a mystery.”
The server brings our food and we dig in.
“It’s kind of a fun story. When I was a kid growing up south of Boston, there was a pizza parlor with the red and white checkered table cloths, those clear red plastic cups, and the cheapest and greasiest slices around. Also the best. Anyway, when I was about nine, I’d do just about anything for a quarter so I could play the Pac-Man video game they had. When it was slow, the workers, who were the owners’ sons, would gather around and watch. Not to toot my own horn, but I was pretty good even though I rarely had quarters. I’d scour couches, return empty cans, anything for some coins. One day, one of the guys asked if I wanted to fold pizza boxes. I think it was his job, but he was tired of doing it.”
“Of course, you said yes.” I smile, loving the story already. “You were an intrepid entrepreneur from the beginning.”
His smile is boyish and proud. “For every 25 boxes I’d fold, I’d get a quarter. They paid me from the tip jar.”
“Good deal for them.”
“You betcha. I’d save up a week’s worth of quarters, probably like three dollars or something, and then go play Pac-Man for what seemed like hours. I got really good. Then one day, by then I was ten, I beat the game. I got the highest score you could get. From that day forward, the guys called me the Pac Man Pizza Wizard. I worked there all through middle school doing dishes, high school when I eventually learned how to make pizzas, and then into college when I did deliveries.”
“Wait, you know how to make pizza?” I ask.
Shaw chuckles. “Figures you’d be more interested in that than my major Pac-Man skills.”
“We must discuss.” I lean in. “Tell me your secrets, Pac Man Wizard.”
We talk about pizza, which is ironic since we’re already eating. Afterward, the server clears our empty plates as the restaurant’s hourly singalong starts.
Shaw stands, urging me to do the same and dance with the workers. Embarrassingly, we’ve been here so often, we know the moves and
songs by heart, but it’s so silly. Nonetheless, I go along with it because it makes Shaw smile, which makes me smile, and reminds me of singing in the rainforest when we were stranded.
When the song is over, a server delivers the Rainbow River Dessert and sets it on the table between us.
“Did you order this?” I’m stuffed.
Shaw’s lips quirk as he holds up a spoon.
“Any special occasion?” I ask, wondering if I missed our six-month anniversary. I’m pretty sure it’s next week.
He digs into the dessert and fishes out something on his spoon like he’s getting ready to feed a baby bird—that would be me. How’d I get to so lucky to have a man that wants to take care of me?
He says, “Oh, look, they added little cookie dough bites. Your favorite.”
I’m a sucker for edible cookie dough. I’ve tried but can’t quite get my recipe as good as the one at the Rainforest Restaurant. I’ll have to befriend the head chef and see if I can get into the Rainforest Restaurant inner circle.
I start to scoop up a chunk of the dough when something glints on top. I wipe off a few of the sprinkles to find a sparkling gold ring set with a diamond and little emeralds around the stone.
A gasp escapes.
Shaw plucks it from the dessert plate. He gets down on one knee. My hands press against my mouth in shock.
“I fell for you online, @CookClickChick, but fell in love with you in the Amazon. Seeing as I don’t think you ever want to go back, this restaurant was the best I could do.”
I giggle.
“Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Cookie?” Shaw asks.
My gaze locks on his. I can only imagine that my smile is stupidly huge. Tears pierce the corners of my eyes, but they’re happy, excited tears.
I grip Shaw’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “I’ll marry you on one condition. We spend our honeymoon in the Amazon Rainforest, but this time we do it right.” I wink.
“So, you’ll marry me?” Shaw asks.
I wrap my arms around him. “Yes, a million times yes. But just one itty-bitty thing.”
His complexion fades.
“I have to come clean about something in case, um, you hear rumors.”
