“Holy smokes. I can see you through the peephole.”

“I’ll give you two hundred points right now if you let me in.”

“Two hundred?! This is . . . wow. Give me a second to get my blood pressure under control.”

“You were just talking such a big game about picking me up for a date, and now you’re too scared to open the door?”

“At some point you’ll learn I’m like 80 percent bluster.”

“At some point you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you’re a lot braver than you think you are, Eliot.”

“Here you are. JD in the flesh.”

“Here I am.”

“Come in.”

Epilogue

Eliot

Four Months Later

“Eliot, honey, you look terrible.”

I turn and can’t help but grin at Frida’s horrified expression as she takes in my appearance. I admit, I’ve looked better.

It’s late summer and I’m standing in the sun, so I’d probably be sweaty even if I hadn’t just finished a two-hour workout at Geddy’s, but as it is, my clothes are literally soaked. I can see in the reflection of the cookie shop window next to me that my hair is sticking up in every direction and—yup—I’m definitely gonna have a shiner tomorrow. My sparring partner got a little overexcited today.

If you’d asked me four months ago if I’d be comfortable throwing punches in a gym, the answer would have probably been three straight minutes of me laughing. But that’s Jessie for you. First she convinces you you’ve secretly been a badass this whole time, and then she’s accidentally popping you in the eye during a workout.

“Oh,” I say to Frida. “I was just working out.”

She looks less than impressed by my answer. “Where? The sewer?”

I laugh. “No. Over at Geddy’s boxing gym.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you boxed.”

“My girlfriend got me into it.” The words pop out unexpectedly. Jessie’s officially been my girlfriend since about thirty seconds after she came up to my apartment the night we finally reconciled. We’ve told our families and friends, but not any of the other tenants in the building. And now, Frida’s eyes have lit up like I just revealed I’m secretly the prince of a small European country.

“A girlfriend, you say—”

The door of the cookie shop jingles and Frida cuts off when someone comes up behind me and puts me in a headlock. I recognize the constellation of tattoos on the forearm in front of my face. If Frida weren’t watching me, I’d plant a quick kiss there because kissing is how I show love. And I do honestly love this forearm, because it’s Jessie’s and headlocks are one of her most preferred methods of showing love.