Page 101 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

Delilah pours us wine as we catch up on the newlyweds’ honeymoon and Avett’s recent pet patient—an old rottweiler who peed on his shoes—and Naomi’s most headstrong student, who has an argument for everything Naomi says.

“Sounds like someone I know,” I say, staring at Maggie.

Maggie cocks her head and tugs her ear. “Did you guys just hear that? Whatever it is, it’s the most annoying sound I’ve ever heard.”

We eventually move to the table and eat and laugh and tease one another. Whenever possible, I brush my hand along the back of Delilah’s neck and am rewarded with goose bumps spreading across her skin. She squeezes my thigh. We trade soft looks and hot looks and you’re-my-favorite-person-in-the-world looks, and I realize how much better fondue night is now than it would have been two weeks ago. How relaxed and easy we are with each other and our friends. I also finally have the perfect name for my graphic novel, the only way to describe my last ten years: To Mars and Back.

EPILOGUE

Five Months Later

I stretch out my arms and clasp them behind my head. “It’s obviously a penis.”

“It curves too much,” Delilah says.

“Some penises curve.”

“They don’t expand into a fan shape.”

“Excited penises do. That’s the ejaculation.”

We’re stargazing in my truck bed. Even though I’m not looking at Delilah, I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes. “Not every constellation is shaped like a penis, E. At least once, you have to choose something else.”

“I have mutant eyesight. Don’t doubt this superhero vision.” I roll toward her and stare at her profile. “Now I see a princess with flowing hair, half-albatross, half-human, with blue eyes the color of Sonic the Hedgehog, who makes kitchen-sink bars like a top chef, trains dogs like a dog whisperer, and is not excellent at using English accents.”

It’s a cool night for late April. We’re under two thick blankets, wearing hats, our noses red from the crisp air. She rolls toward me. “I see a handsome prince with a badass scar through his lip, and much cooler hair than when he loved Justin Bieber, and chestnut eyes that remind me of holidays and cozy nights, who creates fantastical worlds with his hands and loves like there’s no tomorrow, and is not excellent at stargazing.”

I scooch closer to her. “I’m insulted.”

“No, you’re not.” She kisses my cold nose.

I kiss hers. “Speaking of fantastical worlds, I got the page proofs of my novel.” Due to the time crunch, my editor expedited our revisions, hiring a letterer to finalize the written font and several colorists to flesh out the images under my direction, pulling this off in record time. The pages arrived with a card signed from him and my agent, which read, Thank you for your bravery and sharing your story with us.

“Is it amazing?” Delilah asks, a twinkle in her eye.

“I haven’t opened it yet. I want you to be the first to see it.” I also have a surprise for her at home: a framed print of the final panel in full color—the close-up of Delilah and me, our wings wrapped around each other, sunlight cresting over our faces as we kiss. “I’ll just watch you while you read it.”

“That won’t be creepy at all,” she says dryly.

I settle on my back, fitting her into my side. “Sadie called today with some great news.”

“Yeah?”

I relax into Delilah, relieved as hell about Sadie’s decision. “She’s moving back to Windfall with Max. Since she’s not close with her family, she thinks it would be good for Max to be close to us.”

“E, that’s amazing. We’ll get to see him way more.”

We will, which is awesome. With school and distance, we’ve only seen Max a handful of times. The first get-together was intense. Mom cried a pile of tears, while the rest of us barely held it together, slowly getting to know our nephew. Having Sadie and him here is the best news possible, but seeing them is always a reminder that Des is still out in the world, miserable, clueless that he’s a father.

This isn’t the longest he’s been MIA. The longest was after one of his anniversaries with Sadie. I don’t think it was a special number. I’m not sure why that moment hit harder than the others, but he dropped off the grid for seven months and returned with the amoeba-lion ink on his neck, more hair stuffed into his man bun, and less life in his eyes.

I’m not sure what to expect this time.

“I was thinking we could do something at our place, once Sadie and Max move,” I say. “A simple lunch with her and my family.”

By our place, I mean Delilah’s cozy apartment over her business. As sad as I was to see my Pepto apartment go, I gave up the lease. My home is officially with Delilah.

She rubs her cold nose along my neck. “I’d love to have them to our place.”