Chapter 28
WHEN WE GET HOME, everyone heads inside but me. Instead, I lean against the car and call Suzy, telling her to come out. A few minutes later she runs out of her house in a pair of pink bunny slippers. I open my arms wide, as if to say ta-da !
She halts mid-step on the grass. “Jackie, you didn’t...”
“I know it’s not a yellow Jeep Wrangler, but this is all I could afford.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Suzy runs across the lawn and flings herself at me, nearly knocking me to the ground. “You bought a freaking car ? Did you buy this today?”
I squeeze her back. “Like an hour ago.”
Suzy just stares at me, her mouth agape. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”
We sit in the car, and Suzy connects her phone to the aux. Her Road Tripping playlist blasts through the speakers, and even though we’re parked in my driveway in Ridgewood, it sort of feels like we’re flying down the PCH in sunny California.
“So the road trip is on,” she says. I can see it so clearly—me missing the right exit, parking in fast-food lots for lunch, pumping way too much gas into this thing. I can’t wait.
“I’m sorry if you ever doubted it.”
Suzy shakes her head like that’s a thing of the past. “Jackie, you worked so hard this summer to give us this. Are you kidding? We’ve been talking about it for a decade! You’re, like, the greatest friend in the history of the world, and oh my gosh, I hate myself. I forgot to get this on video!”
Five minutes later, we reenact the entire thing.
I stand beside my car with my arms wide. Suzy runs out of her house in her pink bunny slippers, this time holding up her camera. We skip the hug for technical reasons, and then we are seated in the car again. Suzy has the camera jabbed in my face, and for the first time, it doesn’t annoy me. I’m actually unbelievably happy to know that someone cares enough to capture all of this on video.
When Suz is satisfied with the footage, she lowers the camera. “We’ve got one week to prepare,” she says.
It’s like I blinked and summer flew by. “One week? Already?”
“Yup. I can’t believe it either. I move in the last week of August, and it’s going to take us at least four days to drive there. Probably longer, depending on how often we stop.”
“Have you started packing?” I hate the way just talking about her leaving brings tears to my eyes. And dammit, Jill was right—I am turning into Julie.
Suzy laughs. “Of course not. I’ve been binge-watching movies and fighting for my life in that film club forum I showed you at Bee’s. God, it’s insane how wrong someone else’s opinion can be.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Isn’t the point of an opinion that it can’t be wrong?”
“Believe me, Jackie, if you read some of these opinions, you’d think otherwise. Someone actually called The Wolf of Wall Street a feminist film.”
That takes even me by surprise. “Yeah, you’re right. Some opinions are definitely wrong.”
Suzy toys with the strap of her camera. I can’t help but think this is one of the last times we’ll be in my car together.
“Do you want to come over and help me pack? Four hands are better than two,” she says with a smile.
“There’s something else I have to do today. I can come by later tonight? Actually—” I check the time. Monte’s doesn’t close for another five hours. It’s way too early to head over there and see Wilson. “Sure. I’d love that.”
We don’t say anything, but I know we’re both thinking it. I ditched Suzy one too many times this summer. Some for work, some for Wilson. They may have been valid reasons in their own right, but now I’m going to be better at making time for what’s important. And Suzy has always been at the top of that list. Tonight, I can make time for her and Wilson—like I always should have done.
We spend the next few hours in Suzy’s room, drowning in cardboard boxes. Her parents peek their heads in a few times to check on us, and her mom drops off snacks every once in a while. We manage to sort through all her summer clothing and pack up the pieces she wants to bring along.
Her entire collection of DVDs is a lot harder.
“Suzy, you can’t bring two hundred DVDs to college. I think my car might actually collapse from the weight. Are DVD players even still a thing?”
She insists they are necessary, so we narrow it down to a solid twenty-five of her most vital movies—just the ones she physically cannot live without. That alone took up the majority of the time. When I check my phone and see that it’s nearly nine o’clock, I call it quits.
Suzy walks me across the lawn and back to my car. “Good luck,” she says. Somewhere between sorting through jackets and DVDs, I explained the entire situation with Wilson. The lows, and especially the highs. Suzy is convinced he’ll come around. I think so too, but there’s a lot that has to be said.
A lot that has to be done .
My hands shake as I text Anita. The weight of tonight—of what this moment represents—is finally kicking in. Soon I’ll be standing in front of Wilson, my heart in my throat, laying my heart totally bare. If he wasn’t worth it, I would be hiding in my bedroom right now.
Anita replies that she’s on board with my master plan: Take Back Froggy. It is very much the last thing I thought I’d ever do, but it turns out that having a crush on someone makes you do crazy things.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into Monte’s. Anita runs over to my car the moment I park. She taps on the window. As it rolls down, she says, “I’m afraid to ask questions, Jackie. But here you go.” She shoves the frog costume into the car, and oh my—the smell that comes off this thing is deadly. I had almost forgotten.
“You’re my favorite person in the world,” I say.
“The universe!” she corrects, already running back inside.
Right there in the parking lot, I put the costume on over my clothing. It feels like I’ve gone back in time, but being a frog right now is relevant to the gesture . And the gesture says something I need Wilson to know: if it means winning him back, I’ll gladly be a frog every day.
When I walk inside, my coworkers all turn and stare at me. I pointedly ignore them, refusing to let my nerves and their stares get the best of me. Then I see him. Wilson stands next to the ticket kiosk, holding his ridiculous clipboard. He’s in the middle of jotting something down when his eyes look up and land right on me.
I see the surprise hit him first, then the humor. He begins to laugh. The pen slides right out of his hand, but I can’t stop looking at his smile. It’s like a freaking magnet, luring me across the floor and to his side. I’m realizing now that it’s sort of where I always wanted to be.
“Jackie,” he says, the laughter taking his breath away. “What is going on? Why are you dressed as a frog again ? Wait— Where’d you even get that?” He looks behind his shoulder, slowly realizing that I’ve planned a heist and stolen the old frog costume right out from under his nose.
“Guess your fancy new security system isn’t as good as you thought,” I say, smirking.
But this isn’t what we need to be talking about right now.
Fully aware that every single person in Monte’s is staring at us, I take a deep breath and say the words that have been running through my head for days now. “Wilson, you know more than anyone how much I hate being a frog,” I say. When my voice trembles, I take another breath.
“Okay,” he says slowly, like he’s trying and failing to catch up.
“No, I need to hear you say it. How much do I hate being a frog?”
Wilson crosses his arms, tucking the clipboard beneath his bicep. “A lot,” he says. “You complained about it every single day for months. Gave me countless raging headaches.”
“Exactly. I hated wearing this costume so much . Like, decades from now I will see a frog on the side of the road and shudder with terror.” I pause and take a step toward him on wobbly legs. I rip off the stupid frog head and hold it between us like an offering. “But I’ll wear it for you, Wilson. I’ll wear this stupid costume every single day. I don’t care. You are so much more important to me than a job title or a blog post. I don’t need the waitressing, or the tips, or even a clean costume that doesn’t smell like sweat— Wait, no. I think I might need that, actually.” I pause, smiling when Wilson laughs. “But what I really need is to make things right with you. I need you to know how much you mean to me. And if it takes me being a frog again, then I’ll do it. I’d— Well, Wilson, I think I’d do anything for you.”
Monte’s is so quiet, I can hear the steady hum of the arcade games.
My heart beats so loud I hear it ringing in my ears.
I know that behind me, Anita and Justin and Margaret are all staring, wondering what the heck is going on and what exactly happened between me and Wilson when no one else was watching.
Still, all I can look at—all I can focus on—is Wilson. His eyes. His hair. The ironed press of his shirt and the deep brown of his eyes. It’s a sight I can never grow tired of. And when that familiar smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, my heart stutters into a new rhythm.
Finally, Wilson grabs the frog head from my hands. I’m terrified he’s going to place it back over my head, but then he throws it to the ground. Behind us, a child screams. We both begin to laugh.
“I think we just ruined multiple children’s innocence,” I whisper.
Wilson nods, grinning. “Definitely.”
“I mean, if we’ve already scarred everyone here, we may as well just...”
He meets me halfway, sweeping me off the ground and kissing me so hard the world sways. There’s a whoop. There’s a holler. There’s something that sounds like gasps, but all of Monte’s seems to fade away when Wilson kisses me.
When my feet are planted back on the floor, he says, “No more Froggy. Just Jackie. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say breathlessly. I’ve nearly forgotten what we’re talking about.
From the corner of my eye I see a teenage boy in a Pokémon T-shirt standing alarmingly close to us. “Not to ruin the moment or whatever,” he says, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “but I’m still waiting on those tickets.”
Wilson clears his throat. We are trying so very hard not to laugh.
“Right. Uh— Jackie, I’ll meet you outside?”
At ten, I’m sitting in my car, watching my coworkers trickle out. The waitstaff leave first, then a few of the cashiers. It takes another hour before the lights are shut and I see Wilson’s silhouette through the glass door. He walks out with Justin, Margaret, and a few members of the woodland crew. They’re laughing, chatting, all smiling wide. By the look on Wilson’s face, he’s having a good time.
I realize that even though I’m not part of this moment, I’m smiling, too. I know how hard Wilson has worked for this, how badly he wanted this connection with his employees. Seeing it happen fills me with pride.
When my coworkers have left and Wilson is locking up alone, I finally step out of my car and cross the space between us. I wait a few feet behind him on the sidewalk.
“Since when are you so popular?” I ask.
Wilson turns around, smiling. Not those old Wilson smiles that were guarded and forced, but the kind of private smile he shared with me when I first tore his walls down.
“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. There was a whole situation with the ball pit,” he says, shuddering. “And believe it or not, it’s because of your sister,” he says.
He stands at the door. I stand at the edge of the walkway. There are maybe seven feet between us, and I feel every inch of it.
“Let’s normalize adding context, Willy.”
He smiles like he missed me, too.
“Remember that piece Jillian wrote on me?” he asks. “The interview I did? It was published yesterday in The Rundown . You didn’t know?”
“I had no idea,” I say. With everything that’s been going on lately, Jillian must have forgotten to tell me.
Wilson walks toward me, pausing before he gets too close.
“Everyone here read the article,” he explains. “I discussed my dad’s passing, explained why Monte’s means so much to me. I guess once they read it, it sort of altered their opinion of me.”
It doesn’t surprise me. When I found out, I began to see him differently, too.
“Justin asked me to hang out this weekend,” he adds sheepishly.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious.”
“Are you going to go?” I ask.
Wilson shrugs. He tries to play it off, but I can see how much he wants this. How badly he’s been craving this approval the second he walked through the door and filled his uncle’s shoes. “Maybe,” he says.
“You should,” I say. “I think you could use a social life.”
At that, he laughs. “I’m too busy for a social life, Jackie.”
I feel myself loosen up a bit, now that we’ve gotten our old rhythm back. “Maybe you should free up some time,” I say. “Tell me when and where. I’ll drive.”
“No chance you’re driving my car.”
“Not your car, goof. My car.”
He notices it then—my white Nissan parked beside his sleek white Lexus. Wilson walks over and runs his hand along the hood. He lets out a low whistle and says, “You bought this? This is your car? Since when?” Even though his Lexus clearly outshines it, there’s no trace of teasing or mocking in his voice. He looks genuinely impressed.
I nod proudly. “I got it today. What do you think?”
“It’s so you,” he says.
“It’s a car. How is it ‘so me’?”
Wilson leans against his passenger door. I lean against my driver door. We are toe to toe, nearly eye to eye if it wasn’t for the height difference.
“It’s small, probably drives too fast, and can easily hold its ground against any truck twice its size. Sounds like Jackie Myers.”
I want to stand up on my tallest tiptoes and kiss him so hard.
I don’t really know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I’m sort of overwhelmed by his presence. I’ve gone days without seeing him, and now, having him so close, it’s like I’ve nearly forgotten how to act.
“I know you’re probably exhausted and want to head home—” I begin.
“I’m not exhausted,” he says quickly. “I can stay.”
We both bite down our smiles. “I was hoping we could talk. More than we already talked inside, I mean.”
Wilson’s gaze lands on his shoes. “I was hoping we could, too.”
The parking lot is empty now, and the wind has picked up. The only light is from sporadic streetlights. It covers us in this dim, moody glow. I can see the shadows dance around Wilson’s face. See the echo of his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I say. It’s only the tip of the iceberg, but it’s a starting point.
Wilson blows out a breath. “I get why you wanted to help me win Kenzie back. I’m not upset about that— I mean, it kind of brought us closer together, so how could I be mad? I just wish you had told me from the get-go. I felt so stupid to have been left in the dark. Knowing that I was pining over Kenzie, and the entire time you knew how over me she really was.”
“You’re not stupid at all, Wilson. I never thought that. Seeing how hard you fought for Kenzie was sort of what changed my opinion of you in the first place,” I admit. “Seeing how much you loved her, how you never gave up on her—it made me realize what a good person you are. How good a boyfriend you are.”
That seems to take him by surprise. “You— You really think so?”
“I really do,” I say quickly. “And when I asked to help win Kenzie back, I should have told you the full story. You deserved that. In hindsight, I’d do it all differently.”
In hindsight, I wouldn’t do it at all.
Wilson scuffs the toe of his shoe against mine. “Thanks for apologizing.” His voice turns teasing. “And thanks for coming here dressed as a frog. I know it’s hard for your ego to take a hit.”
I pretend to laugh. “Wow. I nearly forgot how funny you are.” Then I add, “By the way, I deactivated my blog.”
He looks surprised. “Why?”
“It did more harm than good,” I say. He nods like he understands. I take his silence as an opening. “I’ve realized that I do this thing where I assume how people are going to feel. I thought my sisters wouldn’t be fazed by my account, when it really hurt them. I thought helping you win Kenzie back would make things right when it only made you feel played. I can’t keep assuming. Not if it’s going to hurt the people I care most about.”
I don’t realize how desperately I need physical reassurance until Wilson comes to stand beside me. He leans his body against mine, side to side, my hand fitting perfectly in his.
“You also helped a lot of people, Jackie.”
“You don’t have to baby me—”
“I’m not,” he cuts in. “I spent hours last night going through pleasebreakmyheart . I read every piece of advice you gave. All the comments, all the people praising you for how much you helped them? You can’t ignore that either.”
I’m still stuck on the fact that Wilson read my freaking blog. It’s like finding out that your crush read your diary. “I might have helped a few people,” I admit.
His hand squeezes mine. I only notice I’m staring at the ground when he gently grabs my chin, nudging my face to his. In his eyes, I find a gentleness.
“You helped me,” he says. “Even though you went about it in not the greatest way, you helped me, Jackie. You came here the second I needed help with the gift basket. You were there with me the day of the picnic. Every time I needed you, you came through. And if the picnic went the way we had planned, if Kenzie and I had gotten back together, what would you have done?”
“I would have let you two be together.” The words are out so quickly I barely have to think about them.
“You would have let yourself be miserable—”
“Okay, don’t inflate your ego too much, Willy. I wouldn’t have been miserable .”
“Heartbroken?” he offers with a laugh.
“Let’s say extremely sad.”
“Fine—you would have been extremely sad, and still, you would have let me and Kenzie be together. That doesn’t sound selfish to me.”
When the wind picks up, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s not lost on me that my hair is, again, curly. The way he likes it—the way he made me begin to like it, too.
“You’re right. I’m a great person and should be immediately forgiven for all my crimes,” I tease.
“I forgave you the second you put that ridiculous costume on.”
“Ridiculous? You mean I don’t look unbelievably sexy and you can barely keep your hands to yourself?” I take a step closer. Wilson is laughing. “All jokes aside,” I say. “I am sorry. And I promise I will never do anything like that again, okay?”
He leans down. “I believe you.”
“I wanted to figure this out before I leave next week.”
Maybe it’s a bit rude of me, but the instant sadness that overwhelms his face makes me feel giddy. It’s knowing that he doesn’t want me to leave. Knowing that he’s going to miss me, too.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m driving Suzy to California for school,” I explain. “I’ll be gone for like, two weeks or so.”
His eyebrows knot together. “And you didn’t think to tell your boss that you need time off?”
“Oh.” Dammit. How’d I not think of that. “Speaking of— Sooooo, I need some time off.”
He holds back a laugh. “I’ll make it work.”
“Of course you will. I’m your favorite employee.”
Right when we are about to kiss, Wilson pulls away. “Dammit. I forgot to give you this.” He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a squished Twix bar. The grin that splits across my face could set the world on fire. “I thought that from now on, instead of having you steal them from Monte’s, I can buy them for you.”
“I think I prefer to steal them,” I joke.
“Good luck with that,” he says. “I told you we had new security cameras installed. Now, nothing happens around here without me noticing.”
Our faces inch closer together.
“Remember when you said everyone kind of likes you now?”
“Yes.”
“Try not to ruin that, Willy.”
“It may come as a surprise to you, but the only person’s approval I need is yours, Jackie.”
I’m about to fire off some sarcastic remark, but Wilson shuts me up with a kiss. And honestly? I’m content to never say another word. All I need is this, again and again and again.
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