Epilogue
GINGER
Anise sets a freshly opened bottle of wine on her large ebony dining room table within grabbing distance of both me and Kat. “When’s the wedding?” she asks.
With a forkful of turkey halfway to my mouth, I share a look with Elliot.
“May fifth,” he says.
“Not the fourth?” Anise’s husband Paul asks, disappointed. “Come on...”
“Sorry our wedding can’t be all about you and your inner nerd, Paul,” I reply around my mouthful.
This Friendsgiving meal is one for the record books. I give it five stars. Thursday my mom is cooking and planning to serve turducken with a cranberry glaze. It’ll be good, Anise got her culinary talent from somewhere, but it won’t be normal.
Anise snorts. “ Inner nerd?”
Matt, across the table, has been fidgeting like a bomb is about to go off for the last half hour. He reaches out his hand. “Wine? Ginger?”
I pass him the bottle, and he pours himself another tall glass. Is the wedding talk bugging him? The end of his own hit him like a truck a year ago, and it’s hard to tell whether his growing restlessness is a sign of an impending breakdown or a breakthrough.
My studio job on a weekly HBO talk show has afforded me a lot more time to have a life, and since Matched is currently between seasons, I’ve been able to spend some of it rebuilding my friendship with Kat. I wish Matt would make himself more available, but I get the sense that being forced to hang out with me and Elliot rubs salt in a wound he’d just as soon forget.
Despite his obvious angst, I’m grateful he and Kat drove up to San Francisco for dinner. Being around the people responsible for so much of my happiness is at least half of what I’m thankful for this year. The other half is the guy on my right. Elliot Hale. My fiance?. My perfect match.
Once the social media feeding frenzy died down, Elliot quietly quit his job in Chicago and moved to LA. The paparazzi are still a problem we have to deal with daily, but proving to America we’re the real deal has taken some of the vitriol out of Jenna Gibson’s supporters’ angry DMs. Of course, we’ve had to make our rounds on talk shows, attend a few events, and follow through with Elliot’s contract, but with Lavonne and Davis’s high-profile help, the audience is slowly accepting our apology for violating the expectations of the show. Hopefully next season Matt and Kat will repair any damage our unorthodox romance did by giving Cassie a happy ending.
While we may never be America’s sweethearts, Elliot and I managed not to become pariahs.
With dinner winding down, Elliot clears the plates.
Stuffed and buzzed, I push my chair away from the table to help.
“You don’t have to do those,” Anise protests. “I’ll take care of them later. I want to get this game of Cards Against Humanity started while I’m still tipsy.”
“Let us at least get some of the food put away,” I say, and not just because I want to make out with Elliot in the kitchen. It’s the only way to ensure I get the correct distribution of leftovers. “We’ll meet you in the living room.”
“I could a use a fifteen-minute break.” Matt rises from his seat, glass of wine in hand. He checks his pocket for his cigarettes and heads for the front door.
I glance at Kat for an explanation. “He’s gonna quit after this weekend. He promised me,” Kat says.
“Holidays hitting him hard?”
“I guess. I’ll talk to him.” She leaves the table, and I follow Elliot into the kitchen. Anise’s old San Francisco home is closed-concept, and therefore, the second Elliot slides the tray of turkey onto the counter, I’m able to attack him in complete privacy.
“Hey—whoa—you should let me wash my hands first.”
“I like you dirty.” My arms slide around his waist. “Kiss me before someone catches us.”
“I always knew you were into the sneaking around. You acted like you never wanted it, but...”
“Oh, I wanted it.”
“Yeah, you did.” He kisses me finally, his mouth taking mine sweetly at first, and then, as my hands find their way into his hair, with deepening need. We might not ever agree on where to put the laundry hamper for maximum usefulness or whether to buy a starter home versus a forever home, but our chemistry is something neither of us can dispute.
“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?” he asks.
“I can be quiet if you can,” I say.
“That sounds like a challenge, Ginger Moon.” He manages to get a hand between my legs and coax a shivering sigh from me.
“Maybe the hotel is better.”
“That’s my girl.” He pushes some hair back from my face, holding his hand against the side of my head. “I like you like this.”
“How?”
“Happy.”
“I thought you were gonna say desperate.”
His thumb strokes the shell of my ear. “Desperate’s a given. But you are happy, right?”
“I mean—I’m not driving a Ferrari through the streets of Sydney, but if I had to pick a consolation prize, you’d for sure make it into my top two.”
“Brat,” he says with a sweet kiss on my cheek.
I hug him tight. “Elliot Hale, I wouldn’t trade you for all the fast cars in Australia.”
“So, you’re saying I made the right choice coming back on the show.”
“You can keep trying, but I don’t think you’ll ever get me to say that.”
“Admit it, Ginger. Your life needed a little ruining.”
I kiss him, ready to be ruined again.
THE END