One Night Hand Stand

Epilogue

Sarah

Two months later

"You're supposed," Case says, huffing as he drops two bankers boxes on the ground and leans forward, hands on his knees, "to be helping, Jared."

We're sitting on the couch with Case's yearbook, Jared on one side of me, Molly on the other. Corey has taken the opportunity to grab the big bowl of potato chips I set out on the counter and he's hiding from us, shoving as many as he can in his mouth, one fistful at a time.

It's moving-in day.

"I am helping." Jared points to a picture of Case, standing in a tuxedo, wearing a crown over a haircut that is so outdated it reminds me of Justin Bieber. Next to him is a lovely young woman wearing a strapless minidress, her makeup nothing but five shades of beige. Dark eyeliner and smudged soot masquerading as eye shadow finishes out the look.

"Oh, bloody hell," he murmurs as he realizes what we're doing. "You went straight for the jugular, didn't you? High school yearbooks? Really?"

"You were Prom King!" I shout. "You never told me you were popular."

He shrugs. "That's a lifetime ago."

"High school popularity matters, Case. And by the way, you're listed as Casey in everything here. When did you change?"

"The school insisted on using my full name. I've been Case for many years."

Jared makes a knowing snort sound. "You mean since ninth grade."

"Not my fault the yearbook director was a stickler for proper names," Case grouses.

"She was a nun. They were all nuns at St. Bernard's," Jared explains to me.

"Why is your hair like that, Uncle Case?" Molly asks, pointing. "You look really young."

"I'm still young!" he insists, huffing and puffing. "But the rental truck has to be returned in two hours, so come on. You can torment me by looking through old pictures any time, Jared. And also: show her your pictures. Let's see you without that face shield you call a beard."

Jared snaps the yearbook shut and stands abruptly. "Time to move the rest of the boxes, guys!"

Molly follows Jared as Case gives me a look I can't decipher, but it's definitely tinged with exasperation. "I'm sure you have plenty of embarrassing high school pictures."

"Sure," I tease. "Not Prom Queen level stuff. More like editor of the newspaper, drama club, debate club, Future Farmers of America. You know."

"Farmers?"

"Let's finish unloading."

"I see. So now that it's about you, we suddenly prioritize the move?"

I kiss the tip of his nose and dance out of reach. "Come on, old man. Let's get your stuff in here."

"OLD MAN?" he bellows, chasing me down the steps. I'm fast but he's faster. Frankly, he's in better shape, even if he is nine years older than me.

As our relationship has deepened, I've acquired a brother-in-law and a niece and nephew. I'm an only child, distant stepbrothers aside, so this is new. Really new. Molly's seven and Corey's almost five and they're at that age where they consider me to be something close to God if I take them out for ice cream and to the Franklin Park Zoo.

I like being worshipped.

Hanging out with Jared, Case, and the kids gives me insight to just how special the man I've fallen in love with really is. This new chapter in our life together – having him move in with me – feels natural, like everything else with him.

For a relationship that started with a bang (or three...), Mr. Never Mind has not only made Slot B deliriously happy (because Tab A is the best), he's also shown me a kind of love that takes my breath away.

Not through big, sweeping, grand gestures, but through day in, day out love.

"How many boxes of crap do you own?" Jared asks rhetorically, unloading a stack of clear bins with blue tops onto a dolly. I live on the third floor in a building with no elevator, so the dolly only gets us so far, but I've learned that Jared is a planner. Strategic and thorough, he's mapped out the whole moving process and has it down to a science.

Which is why he wasn't worried sitting on the couch, making fun of Case.

He knows we have enough time.

"I am a minimalist compared to you," Case shoots back, grabbing two lamps. We moved Case's furniture in already, his king bed barely fitting in my bedroom, but it's way nicer than my old bed. Once we sat down and went over all our duplicates, we ditched about seventy-five percent of my furniture – most of it Mom's leftovers and curbside finds.

Case has grown-up stuff. A real headboard. Nightstands that match the bed frame.

Pillows that came with the couch.

Dumpling has been hiding in the bedroom all day as we finish with the rest of Case's belongings. It's really not that much, but it's all his kitchenware, which I'm drooling over. A real KitchenAid mixer. An espresso machine worth more than Mom's Ford F-150 (don't tell her I said that).

Knives that are actually sharp.

It takes another half an hour, and only that long because Jared needs to take a break to deal with Corey, who now has a stomachache from eating an entire seven-ounce bag of chips, but soon the rental truck is empty. Case's condo sale closes in three days, and the cleaners are scheduled for tomorrow.

"I'll take the truck back," Jared calls out as Molly and Corey climb in the front, eager for a ride they don't normally get. Jared's methodical, and he's brought two booster seats for them. It's only a four-mile drive from here to the truck rental place, and Jared's car is there, so we wave goodbye.

I'm left with Case the Human Noodle.

"God, I forgot how much moving hurts," he groans, chugging a sparkling water, using it to pop two ibuprofen in him.

"We're almost done. Hard part is over. The hard physical part, at least." A local furniture bank took all my old stuff away, along with about eight boxes of Case's belongings. He likes my silverware better than his. My rough-edge wood coffee table beat his sleek modern one. We negotiated piece by piece, the process so smooth, like much of our relationship now. We want a blend of us in here.

And in a few years, when we're ready, we'll move out of my place and find our place.

I rub his back as his breathing slows. Sweaty and stained with what look like scuff marks all over his Penn State t-shirt, Case looks like he is ready for a shower and bed.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." His insistence makes me laugh.

"You sure do groan a lot for a guy who's fine."

"I'm just – this is a lot."

My heart softens. "It is. I'm sorry. I haven't checked in with you about how you're feeling. It's all been about the move, the logistics, the financial paperwork, and – "

"I want this. We're doing exactly what I want , Sarah."

"You can want something and still feel conflicted, Case."

"You mean like when we first met?"

That throws me into a tailspin, because I don't quite know what he means – until I do.

"The lying?"

"Yes. And the love at first sight. I didn't call it that. Didn't even think of it that way. But I dug the hole deeper and deeper by not telling you I knew you, and at the same time the stakes got higher, rising and rising, because I fell for you with every passing moment we spent together."

"You wanted me, but you were conflicted. Conflicted about the lies."

"Exactly."

"And leaving your condo feels like that, in a way."

"I don't know. Not quite. It's more that I had to let go of this huge achievement dream. Prakash ruined it, but long before that arse did what he did, our relationship soured it, too. We were at odds. Your dream and my dream conflicted directly. And only one could win."

"Both lost."

"Yes, but we didn't know that then, did we? We both lost."

"We lost our dreams, Case. Those dreams. I like this dream we're living together better."

My sweaty, exhausted, emotional boyfriend pulls me in for a squishy, musky hug, and God, am I here for it.

"Ms. Gorenta, you have me. Every piece of me, from King Hmph to Zen rock pillow stacking. From my root beer addiction to your strange obsession with Dunkie's blueberry lemon donuts."

"They taste better when they're impaled on King Hmph."

"You want a snack right now? One DoorDash order and I can fill that craving." He kisses me, his wet, sweaty hair brushing against my forehead. Dumpling makes an appearance, leaping up on the kitchen counter, sniffing some potato chip crumbs left by Corey.

"No donuts. Just you. But how about a shower first?"

"Both us? Our first shower together in our new home," he whispers, nuzzling me hard on purpose so as much of his sweaty skin rubs against mine.

"We've showered together here plenty of times."

"Not like this. Not now that we're truly living in sin."

"It turns you on to say that, doesn't it? Living in sin."

" You turn me on."

"Then let's go baptize ourselves in the shower and get on with the sinning."

"I thought you'd never ask."

And they lived happily ever after…

But wait - how about a special bonus epilogue? That's right - one more scene that fast forwards one year later into Case and Sarah's future, as they celebrate Sarah's birthday - and Case has a big surprise for her.