Page 105 of This Changes Everything

“Yes, he does! What an idiot.” Rory shook his head, befuddled.

“He’s super confusing. And listen, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but—”

Rory dropped his controller dramatically, lifted me by my waist, and twisted me around to face him. The look of youthful glee on his face was nothing short of beautiful and hilarious, and was exactly why I loved him. “Do you have . . . juice?” Rory dragged out his question.

I laughed and waved my hands back and forth. “Never mind. I’m not saying. I’ve changed my mind.”

His eyes were sparkling. “Do you have any . . .” Rory tapped his forearm with three fingers, as if he needed a hit of heroin. “Hot goss?”

I fell forward, giggling into his chest. Rory’s broad smile was beyond contagious. “No!” I shouted playfully. “I always give you such good gossip, and you’re always shit at giving it in return. You’re being punished.”

“No! Don’t say that!” He laughed. “I’m just bad at remembering the details.”

“Rory!” My smile was a mile wide. “You didn’t tell me that the reason Blair had gotten divorced was because his wife cheated on him for months into our relationship! That is not a small detail. That is the pinnacle of hot goss.”

He laughed even louder. “I thought you knew!”

“You’re terrible.”

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me. Love me for who I am.” He grinned, already knowing he was going to win the battle.

I sighed, caving in, but only partially. “I’m not giving you any hot gossip about what Zoë said this trip means for her and Orson.” I nodded my head toward Rory to silently communicate that her making the effort to spend the holidays in Vancouver was make or break for them.

“I see . . . I see. I see,” Rory said happily. “I need to tell him to pick her up at the airport, don’t I?”

“No.” I nodded yes.

“Should I tell him to take her back to his place, so she stays with him instead of us?”

“I’m not saying anything.” With my eyes wide, I nodded again. Yes!

“Oh, this is gonna be fun!” Rory’s eyes were wild with excitement. “I’m just going to put this out there: I’m not going to be able to take my hands off you. Like, I want it. I need it.” Rory squeezed my waist. “But I am going to be ignoring you the entire trip and watching them instead. You get that, right?” Rory said teasingly.

“Oh yeah. I definitely get that.”

Rory met my smile and pinched my chin for a delicate kiss. “I’m so happy we’re not there anymore.”

I pressed my thumb against his lips. “Do you think being nothing to each other for all those years was worse than the maybe years?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Rory answered. “I think we became who we were always meant to be because we were apart. And the people we eventually turned into . . . turns out they were always meant to be together.” Rory studied my face.

We looked at each other for an achingly long time, listening to the rain fall all around us from the solarium. Tension grew, and I wondered if Rory was about to ask me to “watch a movie with him.”

He moved his hand to the back of my head, and his lips melted into mine. I shifted my body so I was sitting on top of him, and felt him smile against my mouth. He let out a soft laugh through his nose.

“What?” I asked.

“I mean . . .” His lips pulled down with a cheeky grin. “You are on my lap. And I did accept your challenge.” His eyes flicked up to Super Mario Bros., and I cackled, tossing my head back. I crawled backward, away from Rory, and he chased after me.

When Rory and I got to Blair’s house in East Vancouver, the party was already in full swing, the place filled to the brim with people I didn’t know and lit with multicolored Christmas lights. The dress code was holiday formal, and Rory was looking mouthwateringly good. He’d gone all out with a tailored tuxedo, and had slicked his hair back in a way I had never seen before. His curls were still intact, but contained. I was wearing a full-length, long-sleeved black dress that fell to my lower back. Rory had been right; he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

Blair’s front door opened, and his three-year-old daughter, Grace, ran to greet us. Rory dropped to his knees to hug his niece.

“Uncle Rory!” she squeaked happily. Grace was wearing a onesie, had toothpaste crusted around the edges of her mouth, and had tangled, unkempt hair, probably from trying to tie it into a ponytail herself.

“Hi, honeybee. Say hi to Ellie.”

Grace turned to me and clammed up.