The Match: An EXTENDED edition rom-com from the author of the TikTok sensation THE CHEAT SHEET! (It

Chapter 28

The morning after the best date of my life, I’m trying hard to focus while training a handful of our volunteers in the techniques of walking with loose leashes. They’re going to have to teach these skills to a new batch of puppies, and it’s important they know what they’re doing. But I can’t keep my brain from wandering back to last night and how it felt to sit on Jake’s counter and kiss him.

“Evie, is this okay?” asks a volunteer.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I reply, still in a daze until I realize that the pup is practically dragging the woman across the lawn to chase a butterfly. I snap into action, gaining both the puppy’s and the volunteer’s attention, and quickly run back over the instructions on how to get the puppies to mind their manners on the leash.

We go on and on like this for a time, and I can’t seem to keep myself from checking my phone every couple of minutes to see if Jake has texted me. I’m quite literally pathetic. I’ve gone from an independent woman to a needy girlfriend overnight. Actually, I’m not even his girlfriend. Just a needy girl with a Texas-sized crush on the guy she’s seeing casually.

Finally, the workday is over, and I’m on my way home. I feel so let down from not hearing from Jake that I think my arms are actually dragging on the ground as I walk. There’s sad music playing in my head, and I’m just about to break out in a melancholy ballad and let my hands drag across a field of wheat when I hear my phone ringing in my purse.

I pause on the sidewalk right outside of a bakery and pull out my phone. I don’t even look at the caller ID because I’m certain that it’s Jake. I think we have that special telepathy that couples get when they’ve been together a long time.

“Helllloooo.” My flirtatious tone is dialed up to ten.

“Evelyn Grace, why do you sound like an inappropriate phone operator of some sort?” Ugh. Mom. Apparently, Jake and I do need a little more time for those superpowers to kick in.

“How would you even know what one of those ladies sounds like, Mom?”

She’s quiet for a second, and I take that opportunity to give myself a point in the book of Evie versus Melony I started a few years ago. My therapist says it’s not healthy, but what does she really know anyway?

Mom apparently doesn’t have a good rebuttal for that question, so she decides not to answer it. “I’m sure you’re busy petting puppies, so I’ll make this quick.” I think she has a tally book too and is probably adding a tick to her column right now, but she would be wrong. That one didn’t even hurt, because ha ha, the joke’s on her, I already did my puppy petting this morning, and it was a lovely way to spend my time as well as an important part of socializing the new pups.

I decide to sit on the bench outside the bakery to finish this chat instead of continuing my walk home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to need some carb therapy after I hang up. “Very kind of you to consider my time,” I say and lean over to pet Charlie’s head.

“I’ll cut right to the chase. I want you to come to the house for dinner Wednesday night.”

“Umm thanks, but no thanks.”

“If you would have let me finish, you would have heard why I want you to come to dinner.”

I wince and shut my eyes because I can smell a Melony Jones special coming down the line: a fancy dinner that costs more than my entire week’s worth of groceries, dessert that melts in my mouth, and a big helping of manipulation on the side.

“I would like for you to come to dinner because your dad and I have decided to make a sizable donation to your little dog business.” Yep. There it is.

“Actually, our dogs are pretty large,” I say, but Mom doesn’t snicker because I don’t think she knows how to laugh at a joke. Jo would have laughed. I let out a long sigh and decide to be serious to get this over with faster. “A donation would be great. Feel free to make one at the benefit.”

A family is walking by me, and I can see that they so badly want to stop and pet Charlie. Most people are pretty good about not storming up to pet him without permission. But occasionally, I get a few who don’t understand that he is a working dog and will get right down on the ground and start loving on him without my consent. It’s hard. Not only because it usually makes me have to stop whatever I’m doing but also because it distracts Charlie when I need him to be his most alert. But I try to give everyone as much grace as possible since I know it’s difficult to ignore a dog as adorable and fluffy as Charlie.

Luckily the family passes right by me without stopping and I can breathe a little easier.

“Well, of course we will make a donation at the benefit, but we would also like to make a special donation separate from the fundraiser.” Oh, Mom. I wish so badly she would stop trying to pull these puppet strings all day. I’m tired of dancing for her.

I’m halfway tempted to turn down her offer, but I can’t. We’re desperate for the money. More money means more dogs we can give away to those who need them. I would feel terrible knowing that I had to turn someone away who couldn’t afford the high ticket price of our dogs because I was too insecure to have dinner with my parents. “And I’m guessing there is no way you would consider just mailing us a check?”

Mom makes a scoffing sound. “You know, Evelyn, you are starting to sound rather ungrateful for my offer. Maybe we won’t give an additional donation since it sounds as if you’re not in great need after all.”

I sigh so loudly I’m sure it sounds like a windstorm on Mom’s end. Looks like I’m going to be dancing Wednesday night. “Should I wear tap shoes or ballet shoes for my dance?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. I’ll be there. What time?”

I can practically hear the wrinkles creasing around my mom’s mouth as her lips form a smug smile. “Dinner is at seven. And please, for heaven’s sake, be punctual. We will have a few other important guests at dinner who I’m sure would be more than happy to pull out their checkbooks if you make a good impression. So, come wearing that winning smile I taught you back in your pageant days and a dress with a hemline that hits below the knee.” There is no doubt in my mind that this is all one big trap. I wish I knew what it was so I could be prepared before I get caught in it.

“I’ll be sure and pick up my nun costume from the dry cleaner.”

“Evelyn Grace, don’t you da—”

I hang up, and my phone immediately starts ringing again.

“I wasn’t serious. I don’t even own a nun costume,” I say, standing up and starting to walk home. I don’t feel like eating my feelings anymore. My stomach is twisting too uncomfortably now that I know I have to go to my parents’ house for dinner.

“That’s too bad. I bet you’d make a sexy nun.”

It’s Jake!

“Ha! We do have telepathy.”

“What?”

“Nothing. What’s up?” I realize I’m practically skipping down the sidewalk now. That’s what the sound of Jake’s voice does to me: turns me into a skipper.

“I was just calling to see if you have plans Wednesday night. And before you say anything, I know I’m supposed to wait forty-eight hours before asking you out on a second date, but this is Sam’s fault. She wants you to come over and watch a movie with us. It has nothing to do with me wanting to spend more time with you.”

I stop skipping and groan because now I’m doubly upset that my mom has manipulated me into going to dinner. “I wish I could, but I just made dinner plans that night.”

“Oh. A hot date?” he asks in a playful tone, because he knows it’s not that. I told him I wasn’t going to be seeing anyone else while we figure out what this is between us and he’s doing the same. I feel good about it—so does he.

“Far from it. I’m being forced to go to a dinner party at my parents’ house because they are evil overlords who have too much money.”

“Gotcha. Okay, so do you want some company, then? I can have June stay with Sam.” He’s offering to go with me? I didn’t even really give him a valid reason, and he’s willing to go with me anyway.

“It’s going to be torture.”

“Will you be there?”

I laugh. “Yeah.”

“Then it’ll be worth it.”

Yep. I’m a goner. I am no match for this man. He makes me feel wanted and valued in a way that I didn’t even know was possible. As scary as it is, I’m starting to picture a future with Jake. One where, after forty years of marriage, he still pinches my butt in the kitchen.

Charlie looks up and sees my dreamy expression and shakes his head at me. I think he really is getting jealous now.

“All right, then, yes. I’d love for you to come with me.”

We continue to talk for my whole walk home, and before I know it, I’m lying on my couch and twirling my hair around my finger while Jake tells me about his day. Yes, he’s made me a hair twirler too. I’m fully aware of how annoying I am to be around now.

Finally, he asks for details about what he should wear Wednesday night and what time we need to be leaving my house to get to my parents’ place. I tell him six-thirty, to which he replies, “Great. I’ll be there at six-fifteen so I can mess up your lipstick a little before we go.”

I’m having so much fun in this flirty bubble with Jake that, at first, I don’t even realize that Charlie has suddenly stood up and come to sit in front of me, staring. It’s not a normal stare. It’s a direct look that he only ever uses when he needs my attention most. My chuckle dies out, and dread takes its place. I know this look. I’ve seen it many times.

“Hang on, Jake,” I say, and I think he can hear the worry in my voice because he starts asking if everything is okay. I ignore him and focus on Charlie, who is now whining, and I know it’s not because he needs to go potty.

Annoyed that I’m not acting on his signals, Charlie takes his alerting to the next level. He gently bites the hem of my dress and starts tugging me. I blow out a breath through my mouth, because now I’m certain that Charlie is alerting me of an oncoming seizure.

I know what he’s telling me to do. “All right, buddy, I’m coming,” I say to Charlie, and I follow our usual procedure and get down on a clear spot on the floor. I probably could lie on the couch or my bed, but I’m always worried that I’ll convulse myself out of the bed and hit my head on the floor. Living on my own, I like to be more careful than not when it comes to my seizures. So, I lie on my back and take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve gone through this, though, it never gets less scary.

“Jake.”

“What’s wrong, Evie?”

“Charlie just alerted me. I’m going to have a seizure.” My voice shakes even though I’m trying so hard to put on a brave face. I’m going to be okay. Charlie will watch out for me. Once I lose consciousness and begin convulsing, I know that Charlie will move me onto my side to keep me safe. He’ll go push the button on the wall that calls Jo and then come back to stay with me and lick my face to bring me back to consciousness faster. Even now, he’s going to the fridge and using the tug rope to pull it open and retrieve a water bottle for me for after the seizure.

When Jake speaks, he sounds as heavy as I feel. “How long do you think until it starts?”

“He always alerts me ten to thirty minutes before an episode.”

“Okay.” I hear him rustling papers around frantically. “I’m on my way from the office, so it won’t take me long to get there.”

“What?!” I start to sit up, but Charlie doesn’t like it and tugs me back down. I comply. “Jake, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be all right. I’ll call you later, once everything passes.”

“Evie.” His voice is deep and means business. If my heart rate wasn’t already high from nervousness, it would be elevated for a whole different reason. “I want to. Please let me come over.”

Honestly, I’m contemplating saying no. I’m nervous. What if he gets here in time to see the episode? I’ve never filmed myself, so I don’t know what I look like during a seizure, but I’ve seen it reenacted by mean boys in high school enough times to get a pretty good idea.

Jake has seen Sam’s seizures, so it won’t be totally foreign to him, but what if seeing me this way changes the way he feels about me? What if he’s less attracted to me after? Or if he realizes that I’ll just be more of a burden in his life?

These fears have all evolved out of past experiences.

The truth is, Tyler Murray and I dated from freshman to junior year of high school. And those jerks I mentioned who made fun of me for the way I convulsed during a seizure in class? Yeah, Tyler was one of them. Actually, first he broke up with me, and then he made fun of me with his buddies.

I never told my parents about that day in high school (and the weeks he spent reenacting my seizures in the hallway when I’d pass by) because I was too embarrassed—ashamed over something I couldn’t control. Shame that never should have been mine to take on.

Later, when Tyler and I graduated, and before he moved away, he tried to get back together with me (most likely because by that point his parents were convincing him of the merit of marrying a Jones), and when I turned him down because of how he treated me our junior year, he said the teasing was all good-natured fun and he didn’t mean any harm by it.

It didn’t feel good-natured to me. He’s never actually apologized for what he did. And I’m past the point of needing it. Tyler means nothing to me now and I care about his opinion as much as I care to eat dirt.

The problem is, the way I was treated in the past has stuck with me all this time, and I’m afraid that if Jake comes over and sees me in an episode, it will put an end to our relationship before it ever gets going. But then I remember my own advice to Sam. If you think that these girls will be mean to you if you have a seizure, don’t go—they’re not worth your friendship.

Jake is worth it.

I’m just about to tell him to come over when I hear Jake’s keys jingle and he says, “Like it or not, I’m on my way.”

I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. I guess that’s that, then. I put my arm over Charlie and wait.

I had a seizure; I know that much. I feel a little foggy, and my arms and legs are heavy. I’m coming out of it, but life still seems like a dream where everything is fuzzy around the edges and doesn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t know how long ago I had it, but I know that I’m in the postictal phase and that I probably won’t feel like myself again for a while. All I want to do is sleep.

Suddenly, I hear a voice. “Are we all clear, Charlie?” And I realize it’s Jake. I peek open my eyelids, but they’re so heavy. The nausea is pretty intense too, so I shut them again. “That was a good boy,” I hear Jake say, and I picture him petting Charlie’s head.

The next thing I know, there’s warmth beside my body, and Jake’s voice is close. “You’re okay, Evie. I’m here, and you’re safe. I’m going to move you up onto your bed so you’re more comfortable, okay?”

I nod slowly because, really, that’s all I can do at this moment. And then I feel Jake’s hands slide under my body and he cradles me close to his chest. He’s warm, and I wish I could stay in his arms forever. He’s like a heating pad but even better because I don’t have to plug him into the wall.

Jake lays me down gently on my bed and pulls my comforter up over me. The weight of the bed shifts, and although my arms currently weigh a million pounds, I reach out and find his hand. “Stay with me,” I say quietly.

I don’t open my eyes because my body is demanding I sleep. But then the bed sinks beside me and Jake’s lovely warmth surrounds me. He smells like his cologne today. It’s a clean, masculine fragrance that I hope never washes out of my linens. His big arm wraps around my torso and pulls me up close to him. I’m safe in his arms. He brushes a stray hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear before he places a soft kiss on my temple.

I don’t know how long he’s been here. I don’t know if he saw the seizure. But I do know that he’s lying beside me right now and tenderly caring for me. He’s not running for the hills.