Duffy DUFFY I watched as he stood and left the restaurant. I sat there, speechless and in shock, as the crowd of hungry people waiting for tables parted and let him through. They smiled, obviously charmed by him and the romantic little scene he’d just set, and I couldn’t stop my brain from wreaking havoc in response to the shock. I stared into space, his words ricocheting around in my head. Is that supposed to make this better? Because it doesn’t, Duff. You being my friend was the best part of it all. The best part of it all. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you or making you feel like you weren’t worthy, but how can I regret the stupid stunt that allowed me to get to know you? I cleared my throat and reminded myself that he deserved my anger. He’d lied to me. I do love you, Duff, even if that pisses you off. Well, it did. It did piss me off, dammit. “Wait!” I shot out of my chair and rushed after him, pushing through the crowded entryway to reach Connor before he was gone. “Connor!” I got through the door in time to see him way ahead of me, almost at the end of the block. “Connor Cunningham!” I yelled, but he was too far away to hear me. So I started running. Suddenly I was hightailing it down the sidewalk, dodging other people who were walking as I ran toward him. “Wait!” I shouted, and then everything kind of happened in a blur all at once. I got close enough to almost touch him, so I reached out in hopes of stopping him. But he turned at that very moment, just as my foot landed wrong on a sidewalk grate. The world fell into slow motion as he turned around and his blue eyes met mine in surprise. As I stumbled and my forward momentum accelerated. As I went airborne, my body colliding with his before gravity brought us down. As I laid him out, essentially tackling Connor to the ground. The slow motion came to a jarring stop when we landed—hard—with my body crushing his into the pavement. “Oh my God!” I shrieked, looking down at him as our bodies came to a stop. “Are you okay?” Instantly, I was aware of the fact that he’d just endured a brutal tackle the night before and that a stupid off-day injury could completely destroy his career. “Is your head all right?” I asked. “Your back?” I scrambled to sit up and get my weight off him, but I realized that his hand was wrapped around my back, holding me in place. “I’m fine,” he said, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “You yelled for me to wait, and now I’m definitely waiting. What’s up?” What’s up? “You can’t say ‘What’s up?’ like that,” I said, shaking my head, irrationally angry. “Like you’re asking me what I did with my morning when in reality you just said you love me.”
“Is that why you tackled me? Because of what I said?” “I didn’t tackle you,” I snapped. “I tripped while trying to stop you.” “Well, I’d say you succeeded,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “And it’s just so, so... so ridiculous that you’d say those words to me. Like, how dare you?” “Why does it make you mad?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. “I can understand not feeling the same, but why does it make you so angry? I’m allowed to love you, Duff, even if you don’t love me back.” “That’s what’s so wrong,” I said, feeling a sharp pain in my chest. I missed him so much while at the same time I wanted to kill him. Which also pissed me off. “You’re dropping the big L-word in this really vulnerable way, like poor Connor is heartbroken and emotional, when it’s not like that at all and it’s unfair that you’re hijacking my emotions. You’re not allowed to steal my heartbreak and paint it as yours when you’re the one who—” “Hijacking your emotions?” he interrupted, his face unreadable as his eyes searched mine intently. “Does that mean...?” I wanted to be elusive and coy, I wanted to hang on to my anger, but I couldn’t. So I only nodded, blinking fast so he didn’t see me cry stupid tears. That made him sit up, but he still managed to hold me against him as he rose to a sitting position on the busy sidewalk. “You love me?” “I mean, kind of,” I said neutrally—as neutrally as I could while crying —as if it weren’t the first time I’d ever said that to anyone I wasn’t related to. “You kind of love me?” he said loudly, his mouth splitting into a huge grin. “Even after I was the biggest asshole?” “What—are you trying to talk me out of it?” I said, every cold part of me thawing as he smiled at me like I was his sun and his moon. “No,” he said, raising a hand and stroking his finger over my cheek. “But I’m terrified that I’m misunderstanding and that you still hate me.” I shook my head. “I never hated you.” “You literally said, ‘I hate you,’ ” he said around a laugh. “But there’s a thin line between love and hate, right?” “That’s right, there is.” He pressed his forehead against mine, and his eyes were all I could see. “So you love me.” I swallowed and let my eyes close, breathing in the closeness of him. “So I love you.” Our lips met, and all my pent-up emotions went into the kiss, feeling every bit of love and need and pure joy in his arms. The rest of the city— the world, the planet, the universe—disappeared as he kissed me in the middle of the sidewalk as if no one else existed. As if I was his everything. And a couple hours later, when we finished our impromptu White Castle brunch at the Commons (making out on a city sidewalk can make you hella hungry) and headed back home, I knew he was mine.
Epilogue One Year Later Duffy DUFFY “Are you ready, Ms. Distefano?” “Yes,” I said, nodding and getting out of the green room chair. “I’m ready.” I followed the intern, shaking out my nervous hands while hoping I wouldn’t fall down or pass out. Even though I’d done this before, I was still crazy-nervous to be in front of a studio audience. We stopped at the edge of the curtain and waited, and as soon as Kel said, “Please welcome Duffy Distefano,” the intern gestured for me to move and I was walking out onto the stage. “Welcome back, Duffy,” Kel said with her blindingly white grin as I sat down. “You’ve kind of had a lot going on since the last time you were here.” “You could definitely say that,” I said, reminding myself to smile while I tried to pretend everyone in the studio audience wasn’t looking at me. “Well, we want to hear all about it,” Kell said, his bright grin matching that of his cohost wife’s. “But first, we’re going to bring out another guest so we can discuss it together.” “How fun,” I said perkily, unfazed because Connor told me they’d invited him and we’d actually ridden to the station together. I definitely wasn’t getting surprised this time. “Friends, can we give it up for Tony Distefano?” My mouth dropped wide open—I caught a glimpse of it on one of the many monitors mounted around the studio—as the crowd went wild and my dad ran out onto the stage. He was wearing his favorite Coyotes jersey and grinning as he jogged out like some celebrity. “Dad? What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked as hell to see him. “The Kells said you couldn’t come back without me,” he said, plopping down in the stool beside me. “And who am I to argue with them?” Everyone laughed at that, like he was the most charming man on the planet, and they probably weren’t wrong. I mean, he’d always been my favorite human, but my appreciation for him had grown exponentially since the lung transplant. Things had quickly gone south with his health last year, and there had been a lot of days where we didn’t think we were going to get a happy ending, but then—praise God—a donor showed up. Looking at my dad now, you’d never imagine how bad it’d been because he was a freak of nature and was now thriving at a ridiculous level. He looked ten years younger. He walked to work on nice days. He’d become a “cat foster,” which meant at any given time he had a plethora of cats wreaking havoc in his house. Which was partly why I was back with the Kells. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention you were coming,” I said, and he just smiled and shrugged.
“So Duffy,” Kel said, clasping his hands together. “You’ve gone viral yet again, but this time it’s for a good reason. Instead of bullying coyotes, you’ve moved on to saving kittens. Why don’t you tell us what happened on that fateful night?” “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’ve ever ‘bullied’ coyotes, Kel,” I clarified, because the comment definitely felt like shade, right? “If you remember, Carl was the one who inappropriately touched me—” “Yes, of course,” he said with a quick nod, and I swear to God the man rolled his eyes. What. A. Jerk. “Who cares about Carl anyway?” my dad said with a scoff, obviously trying to ke ep me out of trouble but still on my side. “That guy, right?” But I wasn’t finished. I added emphatically, “And multiple other women—” “And got what he deserved, that punk,” Dad said, patting my arm. “But wanna get on with the story, Batman? Give the people what they want.” The audience laughed. “I told you not to call me that,” I r eplied, rolling my eyes. “But fine.” In a shocking twist, I came in last in the fantasy football league I had with my brothers and their friends. (Only because they’d insisted it was a conflict of interest for me to have my boyfriend as a player, and after bullying me into trading him, he went on to have a record-breaking season, that talented ass.) As the loser, I’d been required to wear a Batman costume every day for a week. My boss had been cool with it, and I’d gone in to work super early and super late to try to avoid people with eyeballs who weren’t in on the bit, but the public still noticed when Batman was milling about among them. One night during that week, I stopped by my dad’s house when the carbon monoxide detector was going off. It ended up being because of a furnace issue (he wasn’t home, thank God), but my neighbor’s Ring camera captured fifteen minutes of me evacuating foster kittens. Foster kittens who scaled Batman’s body, who bit Batman, who caused Batman to trip on the porch and face-plant right into the snow. I’d been a hero to those asshole cats, saving their lives, but I’d gone viral as #klutzybatman, then twice as viral when I blamed it on Connor for being “so damn good at football that he ruined my life.” After the Kells finished interviewing me, Connor came out. “Were you surprised when you saw the footage?” Kel asked him. “Did you recognize the viral Batman as your girlfriend?” “I wasn’t surprised at all, and of course I did,” he said, giving me the full-wattage smile that’d become my happy place. “Not only did she look good in the suit, but who else but my Duffy could manage to dive headfirst into the snow without dropping the cat?” I rolled my eyes, but it was impossible not to laugh. “Someone’s jealous of my ball control after their drop against the Eagles.” “That was overthrown and not a cat, Distefano.” “I was on ice and saving feline lives, Cunningham.” “There,” my dad said to Connor, nodding vigorously. “There’s the opening. Go.” “What? Tony,” Connor said quietly, looking a little uncomfortable. “I don’t think—”
“Come on.” My dad lowered his voice, but everyone could still hear him. “Just say something like ‘Speaking of last names’—” “Dad,” I interrupted, not sure what was happening but very sure I wanted him to shut up. “I’m sure Connor doesn’t need your help with... anything. Let the man be.” “Well, I was going to do this in the green room afterward,” Connor said, giving my dad a pointed look. “Because on-camera seems a little heavy-handed, but my boy Tony here—” “I like a big romantic gesture,” my dad said with a smile, utterly unapologetic. “Remember, I proposed at a tailgate like a true gentleman.” The audience let out a collective gasp at the word “proposed,” and I was right there with them, my mouth dropping wordlessly. Connor turned his eyes to me, his beautiful, blue, always-smiling eyes, and gave his head a shake. “You told me your dad couldn’t ke ep a secret and I didn’t listen.” “See?” I said, my voice coming out as a croak. “He’s a sieve.” I watched as Connor reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a ring box. My heart thudded rapidly against my chest, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Duffy Distefano, if you can ever forgive me for asking this question in such a public way, will you maybe consider spending the rest of your life with me?” My hand found its way to my mouth and the tears pooling in my eyes blurred his face from my vision. “I will absolutely maybe consider it.” “What the hell kind of answer is that, Duff?” my dad said with a scowl. “The only kind of answer I’d ever want,” Connor r eplied, eyes still on me as he opened the box. “Total Duffycore.” I wiped my eyes and my heart felt like it might burst when I recognized the ring. “But—but it’s your grandma’s.” “I know, without a doubt, that he’d want you to have it,” he said, his throat moving around a big swallow. “His cookie girl.” We Face Timed his grandpa every day, and even though things were getting progressively worse with his memory, there was one morning last year where Connor’s grandpa randomly called me “cookie girl,” a tiny spark of recognition that made both of us cry happy tears. “Give the man a real answer, for the love of God, Duff,” my dad demanded. That prompted the audience to start clapping and cheering. I looked at the giant I loved, with his 9.63-inch hands and warm smile, and wondered how it was possible to be so happy. “Yes, yes, yes, I want to marry you,” I said, laughing as tears blinded me again. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Make me your bride, Connor Cunningham, or lose me forever.” “Don’t be a wiseass, Duff,” my dad scolded. “He might change his mind.” Connor took out the ring and slid it onto my finger. “I will never, ever change my mind about Duffy.” He gazed at me so lovingly, it felt like we were the only ones in the room. “With you, it’s forever.”