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2 Months Later
There’s only five minutes left of this semester. Five minutes until I no longer have to live in Hudson or anywhere close to my hometown.
Adam smiles at me as he tells the class, “It’s been a pleasure teaching you this semester. I’m sad I have to head back to Harvard and won’t be here next year.”
“No, you’re not,” some students call out, but good-naturedly. They’ve come to love Adam almost as much as I do.
I wink at Adam, and he smiles, but doesn’t wink back. We’ve successfully pulled off two months of acting as if we’re not together when we are. It’s been really difficult, because all I want to do when I see Adam’s nice ass up in front of the room, lecturing in front of the chalkboard, is jump his bones.
But it helps that I get to jump his bones whenever we go into the city. We’ve had plenty of dates there, so Adam has most definitely gotten over his vow to never take a girl he fucks to dinner.
In fact, dinner is where we’re going tonight. I have a very special package I have to tote along with me.
“I’m very proud of all of you,” says Adam. “And let’s hear it again for Sarah, who under my brilliant tutelage, has not only applied to and been accepted to Harvard, but who has also won the Young Business Women’s grant for her business plan and proposal.”
My classmates cheer for me, and I have to admit I’ll miss them. I should have worked harder at making friends here. I always felt like an outcast but I know now that that was self- imposed.
Just because my dad didn’t think I was good enough to be friends with what he would call “righteous people” doesn’t mean he was right. Adam’s shown me I’m a better person than my dad ever gave me credit for, but I’m still working on believing that all the time.
Finally, the last class is over and I head home to change for dinner. I ride the train into New York City alone for the last time. It’s both my last time going anywhere to meet Adam— because from now on he’ll be taking me on all our dates— and also my last time going into the City because tomorrow Adam and I are moving together to Boston.
I tried to call my family to let them know, but my dad asked if I was willing to repent of my sins and give testimony to the church. When I said I no longer believe in his version of religion and I have nothing to repent for, he told me he had no further interest in talking to me. I tried to let him know I’d been happy and had good news, but he hung up on me.
When I get to Boston and Adam and I are in the clear, I’ll send a letter to my younger siblings, letting them know where to contact me if they need it. They might be anxious to break free from my dad’s grasp, just as I was. At least I can say I tried to get through to him and have common ground with him, which is more than he can say about me.
We go back to Hot Cocoa and Adam orders some champagne. My mouth drops open, but he just laughs.
“How did you order that for me?” I ask, as he pours us both a glass.
“Oh, come on,” he says, “There’s nothing money can’t buy, you should know that by now. Plus, no one ever cards for champagne.”
I laugh as we toast.
“This will be another first for me,” I tell him. “Drinking alcohol.”
“Cheers to your first time for everything,” he says, with a wink.
I drink the liquid and feel its warmth in my chest.
“And cheers to your acceptance at Harvard,” he says. “I told you my plan would work.”
“I can’t wait to be your fake fiancé up there at fancy Harvard,” I tell him, squealing with glee.
“On that note,” he says, a devilish grin spreading across his handsome face. “There’s something else I hope to be celebrating with you too.”
“There is?” I ask, but he’s already on the floor, down on one knee, and holding up a little blue box.
“Really?” I ask, looking around as if someone is going to come pinch me and tell me I’m dreaming.
“Really,” he says. “Sarah Grace Winters, will you do the pleasure of marrying me?”
“Yes!” I say, jumping up out of my chair and then jumping up and down.
I don’t even care that we’re in a restaurant, or that someone could see us and our whole plan might be foiled. But not really, because we’re safely through the semester— so let the world see us.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I repeat.
He gets up and swings me around. He obviously doesn’t care that we’re in a restaurant, and the restaurant seems happy to have us here, because everyone including the wait staff begins clapping and congratulating us.
“You know I have a bad track record with engagements,” he says, frowning.
For a second, I’m sad along with him. But he shakes his head and kisses me on the cheek.
“So, let’s get married soon, shall we?” he asks.
“Yes!” I say again, laughing and kissing his neck.
Now all that remains before we head to Boston as real fiancé and fiancée is one last stop back to our old stomping grounds.