Epilogue
One year later
Shannon’s wedding sucked, by the way.
Last October, after months of stalling, Shannon finally made the request I’d been dreading—she sent me diving back into Thomas’s DMs, kicking off the wedding planning in earnest. I moped for a week, then got over it.
If getting married is what she wants, then the least I could do was keep my Danimosity in check.
Well. Connor kept it in check.
I’d describe their nuptials as one of the great bad weddings of our generation.
Shannon looked picture-perfect but all wrong in the dress she insisted on buying.
Dan’s groom speech was a nauseating twenty-eight minutes long.
And the bridesmaids wore black. Which was nice, because to me it felt more like a funeral.
I will never understand why my sister married him; but I very reluctantly accept that I don’t have to. Really all I can hope for now is that they truly do live happily ever after. Or failing that, get divorced.
What was very fun was having an excuse to bring my boyfriend home for the first time, driving him all over the town and pointing out all the local landmarks, like my high school, and the ice cream shop where I won the flavor competition.
That fun fact now lives on CAB Lab’s new website, underneath the picture of the three cofounders it’s named after: Connor, Ben, and me.
We land back in New York early Sunday evening, and decide to stop at my apartment first before going back to Connor’s so I can pick up some more clothes.
When we get there, Carrie is lying prone on the couch, watching TV.
“How was it?” she asks, her hand hovering above her head, twirling a lock of hair.
“Terrible,” I say, dropping my keys in the bowl beside the door.
“Dramatic,” Connor comments, coming in just behind me. “It was great.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say. Carrie draws her knees up, vacating a spot for me to sink into. “It was painful to watch.”
Her palm is already face up in expectation of my phone. I open to the photo app and hand it to her to flick through.
“Did you not have a good time?” she asks.
“No.”
“Liar,” Connor drawls.
He’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, eyes shining with laughter. OK, maybe we did have a good time. What can I say? Connor looks extremely hot in a suit.
At the sound of our voices, Sam emerges somewhere from the depths of the apartment, today wearing a denim miniskirt (mine) and—inexplicably—a pair of white cowboy boots. It’s like she’s so happy she forgot to goth.
“Oh good, you’re here.” She addresses this to Connor, rather than me.
“Hi, Sam.” Connor nods.
One of the more surprising developments of the last year is Sam and Connor forming an alliance—you get the impression that if they really joined forces, they could do great and terrible things.
Perhaps luckily, Sam is way too busy being head over heels in love with Carrie at the moment to do any scheming.
Sam claps. “Attention, everyone. I have an announcement.”
I look up from my spot beside Carrie on the sofa. She passes the phone back to me when Sam pointedly clears her throat.
“Carrie will be moving into the apartment.”
Carrie sits up. “What?”
“Aww,” I say with a big dopey grin. “You guys.”
“Annie, you’re evicted.”
Now I’m the one at attention. “Wait—what?”
“You’re moving out.”
I turn toward Carrie, mutinous.
“First I’m hearing of this,” she says, holding up her hands. But I can tell by the moony look on her face; she doesn’t hate the idea.
“You can’t just decide this without telling anyone,” I tell Sam.
“Yes, I can. It’s my apartment. And we need the bedroom. It’s going to be our sex den,” Sam says, joking. I think she’s joking.
“But then where will I live?”
Sam stares at me like I’m the biggest idiot to ever walk the face of the earth. “Um, with your boyfriend? Where you basically already live anyway.”
Connor has said nothing during this conversation. When I look at him now, he’s biting back a laugh.
Carrie thinks it all over. “No sex den. I want my own bedroom. I can’t keep up with your crazy hours.”
Sam nods. “Done.”
“Hey!” I say, outraged.
“I’m hungry. Should we go out?” she asks, changing the subject.
Carrie perks up at this suggestion. “Let’s go back to that dumpling spot.”
Connor approves. “I’ll message Ben,” he says, pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “He can meet us there.”
“Excuse me! This conversation isn’t over!” I’m trying to sound stern. Everyone is ignoring me.
“It definitely is,” Sam says, exiting the apartment first. Carrie looks at me and shrugs, then follows Sam out the door.
It’s only Connor who hangs back, peeling off the wall when I stand. He pulls me toward him, his arms around my waist.
“Sorry,” I mumble into his chest. “I didn’t know she was going to do that.”
“Really? She informed me a while ago.” I can hear the laughter in his voice.
I peek at him. “And what did you think?”
“I was surprised,” he says, solemn. “I thought you were already living with me. Your stuff is absolutely everywhere.”
I gasp. “No it isn’t.”
“Seriously, there can’t be much left to pack up.”
“Well there is,” I insist, haughty.
He chuckles, then drops a warm kiss on my cheek. He’s not wrong: I am spending more time sleeping at his place than mine these days.
“So—does that mean you want to live with me?” My stomach flutters.
“Not really,” he deadpans. “But how else can I be sure you start work on time?”
“CAB Labs does flexible hours,” I remind him.
Yes, OK. I am not a huge morning person.
Usually by the time I emerge from his bedroom, Connor and Ben have already been tapping away at their computers for an hour.
Next month that all changes—with two new employees starting, we needed an office space that wasn’t a coffee shop or Connor’s dining room table.
Our first project is launching soon: a coding academy geared at adults and teens. I was its first graduate.
He takes hold of my hand, dropping a kiss on the back of it. “Annabelle, love of my life. Will you please move in with me?”
Honestly, I can’t imagine anything better. There isn’t a single moment I don’t love being in Connor’s company.
“I don’t know,” I say, pretending to really mull it over. “I’ll have to think about it.”
He laughs, pulling me toward the door.
He knows the answer already. We both do.