33. Epilogue Totally Worth it

CHAPTER 33

EPILOGUE: TOTALLY WORTH IT

WESTON

“Westie, what room are we sleeping in?” Abbi asks as we drive through the back roads of Fairlee toward my father’s house.

“Oh baby, we’re taking that double bed again. Stevie and Tamar can take the bunk room.”

“Hmm. Are they down with this plan?”

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter if we get there first.”

“Devious, Griggs. I like it. I don’t know if we can make sex noises this time, though.”

“What?” I gasp. “It’s a tradition. Besides, they’d be real sex noises.” I nudge her with my elbow, because I’m subtle like that.

“No way,” she says. “I have to be able to look your brother and Tamar in the eye over the turkey tomorrow.”

“You’re forgetting something, though. Stevie and Tamar might be making their own sex noises. They won’t even hear us.”

Abbi thinks this over. “Maybe if we’re very quiet.”

“Uh-huh,” I agree. The old bed squeaks like a piglet on cocaine, but I’m too smart a man to point that out right now. “Five more minutes until we get there,” I say instead. “Just enough time for a singalong. Cue up the Avett Brothers?”

Abbi claps her hands. “’Ain’t No Man!’ Yes! Another tradition.” She taps furiously on her phone, and a few seconds later the intro kicks in, and then we start to sing.

I actually slow down the car so that we won’t arrive before the song is over. We really go for it, too, singing loud through the chorus and into the verse.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, but this year I didn’t hang up my sign to advertise for a date. I already have the perfect date.

Although we’re not on our way to Dalton’s house this year. And I’m no longer avoiding family holidays. This year we’re headed to my dad’s. And this way Dalton can host Price—who no longer lives in his home—and keep peace with his wife.

Dalton had asked Abbi first, though. He’d extended an invitation, explicitly stating that if we wanted to join him for Thanksgiving, that Price would not be included. Dalton and Lila have finally figured out how “tough love” for that asshole works, but I hear that it wasn’t easy.

The Price situation actually sent Dalton and Lila to marriage counseling for a little while, until Lila learned how not to be her son’s enabler. But I guess things are better now.

Abbi gently turned down Dalton’s Thanksgiving invitation, though, telling him we were already spoken for. And so Dalton is taking us out to dinner on Sunday night, “just to catch up,” he’d said.

Dalton and Abbi are in a good place lately. And neither of us needs a fake boyfriend or girlfriend anymore. We’re just in it for the turkey and the stuffing this time. And Aunt Mercedes’s cheesy mashed potatoes. And whatever pies my father bought from the bakery, because that man doesn’t often cook.

I love Thanksgiving. Always have. But I love it even harder today, with my best girl singing her lungs out in the passenger seat beside me.

Even the car is different this time. Three months ago we traded in Abbi’s heap of a car for a used Subaru Outback.

Yup, we bought a car together, which is a pretty big commitment. But next year—if everything goes according to plan—we’ll probably live together, too. I’ll be in medical school, and moving out of the hockey house. She’ll be working her way toward world domination in the flannel industry. Sharing an apartment just makes sense.

I honestly can’t wait. We spend most of our nights together anyway.

The final chords of the song resonate as I turn into the driveway and park behind my dad’s car.

“Whew!” Abbi collapses against the seat. “That was a good one.”

“The best,” I agree, killing the engine. There’s no snow on the ground yet, and the lake shimmers between the distant trees. Abbi and I came to stay here a few times over the summer. We had some fun swimming in the lake and roasting marshmallows in Dad’s fire pit.

And I made gorilla noises on the paddleboard, just for old time’s sake.

Abbi removes her seat belt, but I grab her hand before she can climb out of the car. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

She turns to me with wide eyes. “It’s sort of true, right?”

“You know it.” I lean over and kiss her quickly. “I’ll never forget knocking on your door on Thanksgiving last year. When you opened it, I was so surprised to find out that the hot waitress from the Biscuit was my date.”

She rolls her eyes, like I’m humoring her.

“Believe it, girl. I totally wanted to take you home that night, too. Remember how I said we should save the other bottle of wine for later?” I wiggle my eyebrows.

Her smile widens. “I do remember. And then it didn’t happen.”

“Oh it happened , honey. Just not that night. We had some issues to work through.”

“We did,” she agrees.

I swivel around and reach into the back seat for something I stashed back there in secret. “Happy anniversary, honey.” I hand her a wrapped present, which I’m sure she can guess is a wine bottle. “We’ll have to chill this so we can drink it later.”

“Oh! Who’s a fun guy?” She rips the paper away and pulls out a bottle of champagne. But I’ve covered the label, with my own hand-lettered version. In brightly colored Sharpie it says: A BOTTLE FOR LATER. BUT NOT TOO MUCH LATER. BECAUSE I’M A MAN WITH NEEDS.

Abbi lets out a snort of laughter. “Subtle, Westie.”

“I know, right?”

She gives me a kiss on the jaw. Then she pulls something out of her purse—a greeting card, with WESTIE on the envelope, and a drawing of a West Highland Terrier. “This is for you.”

“Aw! Thanks.” I slit the envelope with my thumb and pull out the card. On the front there’s a cat in a turkey costume. Inside, I find twenty-five dollars in cash. And Abbi has written only: TOTALLY WORTH IT.

“Oh baby!” I say, laughing. “I love you so much. You’re hilarious.” Then I have to kiss her.

And we’re still there, entangled in each other, until my dad taps on the window. “Did you know you’re steaming up the car?” he yells through the glass.

Abbi, embarrassed, quickly opens her door and climbs out.

When I follow her a moment later, my dad is laughing at us. “You know, your brother used to have this dumb idea that you two were only pretending to date.”

“Is that so?” I ask, unbothered, while Abbi makes herself very busy pulling her duffel bag out of the back.

“Yeah.” Dad shakes his head. “Love that kid, but sometimes he’s a dingus.”

“Total dingus, I agree.”

Abbi gives me a wide-eyed stare. And I just wink back at her.

T H E

E N D

Thank you for reading Boyfriend! You might also enjoy the world of Moo U hockey. Tate has a book, too!

Try Blindsided by Victoria Denault