832A/N: I apologize for the…extremely long wait for these last two chapters lol. It took me a while to nail down precisely the right ending, but I think I've done it! (There will likely be those who disagree, but… it feels right to me, and I genuinely think you will all be happy with it. It just took a while to get there, lol, and for that I apologize!)
Also, I hate ending stories. I love my readers! Finishing a story means I don't hear from you anymore!
Anyway, thanks a TON to all of my patient—and not-so-patient!— readers! I very much appreciate all of your feedback!
Special thanks to burn321, without whom this story may have gone another year or two without being completed, lol. Thanks for relighting the fire! ;)
Additional thanks to Aiswarya for giving me that final nudge! I've been working on so many other things that I kept not getting to this! :-)
FlabbergastedFae: if this chapter doesn't answer your questions/you still have questions, shoot me a message and I'll try to fill in the blanks! ;)
I hope that all of you readers—new and old—enjoy the finale!
Epilogue
The Play
"Oh my God, I'm a thousand percent sure that a cuter little Christmas tree has never existed!" Marie gushed.
"Shh," Jenna whispered, giving her mother a little reprimanding frown and glancing around at the other parents at the assembly. "I'm not deaf, I can hear you when you whisper."
"Sorry," Marie said a bit mockingly, rolling her eyes. "I'll try to tell my overflowing heart to keep it down. It's only my granddaughter's first Christmas play ever. Not like it's a memory I will hold near and dear for the rest of my life or anything."
Jenna merely rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the stage where Anya, dressed up as a little Christmas tree, dancing around with the other little trees and elves on the stage.
"She's definitely the best dancer, don't you think?" her mother leaned in to whisper.
Biting back a grin, Jenna said, "Of course I think so, but I may be a little biased."
"Look at the heart though, she's so enthusiastic. Maybe she'll be a big Broadway star someday."
"Probably. Most kids who participate enthusiastically in their kindergarten holiday plays do go on to become famous Broadway stars. I mean, what else would they do?"
Marie gave her daughter a dry look and began to respond, but the stage had gone quiet as the song ended and in the brief moment of silence, the auditorium door swung open, letting in a slice of light, and then it slammed shut as the person who entered late hustled to their seat while avoiding annoyed looks from the other parents in the auditorium.
As he slid into the empty seat in their row next to Marie, Jon leaned forward and glanced at his cousin, then to Jenna. "Sorry, I tried to get here on time. Who knew they would actually start a kindergarten play on time."
"They started five minutes late," Wesley stated. "You're ten minutes late. If they would have started on time, you might as well have just skipped it."
"Anya's solo is right after this song and dance," Jenna told him, nodding to the stage.
"Thanks for inviting me," he said, offering a little smile.
Shrugging, she said, "You were in town, why not? She likes you for some reason."
Offering a cocky smile, he said, "Yeah, I tend to have that effect on the ladies."
Jenna rolled her eyes and didn't bother responding.
Marie piped in then, "It better have been important. You missed a great first act."
"I think it was pretty important," he verified. "Besides, I'll just order one of the tapes," he said, indicating the videographer that Wesley hired to film the production, so that he and any other parents that were interested could buy their own copy.
"Not the same," Jenna said with a frown. "So, sh!"
After that song wrapped up, they began a new one, and Anya—as the titular Littlest Christmas Tree—had her own set of lines to deliver. Jenna watched with pride and an overflowing heart as Anya finished up her little solo portion of the Christmas tune, then joined in singing with the other kids, and then, finally, singing the final line to close out the song.
As soon as it was finished and a couple people started clapping, Jenna joined in, clapping so hard that her hands hurt and all but bouncing in her seat as she snuck in a little wave. Anya grinned and waved back, even though she wasn't supposed to, and a few people chuckled.
"Good job," Wesley whispered.
Grinning, Jenna said, "It's adorable, shut up."
Wesley laughed and then the clapping died down so the kids could begin the next song.
"She's so good," Jenna gushed, glancing over at Wesley. "Isn't she so good? I feel like she should dress up like a Christmas tree more often."
"That would definitely make her more popular," he replied.
The last song of the play began and Santa and Mrs. Claus picked the little Anya-tree, putting a big yellow star on her head that wobbled a bit when she danced. After that song, all of the kids in the performance and the chorus joined in for "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" to close out the play.
After it ended, the children all bowed or curtsied in no particular order or fashion, mostly all at different times because they forgot they were supposed to, and the parents applauded. The children turned around and gathered around their teacher while the parents all began to talk amongst themselves.
"That was awesome," Jenna stated. "I think my mom might have been right, I think our kid is star material."
Grinning back, Wesley said, "Only time will tell."
"Technically she's already a star," Abby pointed out, leaning forward a bit. "We'll have several copies of the tape to prove it."
"And to bring out and show to guys who want to date her when she's a teenager," Wesley added brightly.
"No," Jenna and Abby both said at the same time, then respectively smiled and chuckled.
"I'm her father, I reserve that right," Wesley stated.
"Oh really?" Abby returned, rubbing her protruding stomach. "And are you going to do that to your son when he meets a girl he wants to date?"
After a pause, Wesley said, "To prove I'm not sexist, I think I have to say yes."
"Am I supposed to go help her out of her costume?" Jenna asked no one in particular when she saw a couple of other parents crowding around the stage.
Deciding to err on the side of overly helpful, she stood up and scooted past her mom and Jon to go up to the stage. It would have been just as easy—and closer to the stage—to scoot past Wesley and Abby, but she didn't question why she went the other way instead. Or the way her stupid heart sped up a bit when the back of her legs brushed Jon's knees. Once she was past, he stood, and without a word, he began to follow her.
"Just in case you need a second."
Startled, she missed a step, turning to see him. "Oh. Okay."
He fell into step beside her, and then they were standing beside the stage, but Anya wasn't paying attention.
"So," Jenna began. "What's your holiday itinerary like? Are you just stopping in before you continue on to the big family get-together?"
"I heard you guys weren't going this year," he said, eyebrow rising in surprise.
"Nah. Abby's going to pop in a month and Wesley and I decided now that Anya's older and gets really excited about Christmas and he and Abby will likely be popping out babies like it's their job, we're going to do actual Christmas here at home."
"At their home," he said, watching her face. "I didn't make it to the wedding or anything, but I saw in pictures you were the maid of honor? Seems a little weird."
Shrugging, Jenna said, "Not really. I threw her baby shower, too. I like Abby, she's wonderful with Anya and as a mother, if you have to have circumstances like these, you want the step-parent to love your kid, that's what matters. I couldn't have asked for anyone more perfect than Abby."
"Eh, you're only saying that now because she's fat," he teased.
Shooting him a glare, she said, "Your sensitivity is astounding. I hate to be the one to tell you, but you wouldn't be sporting a six pack if you were eight months pregnant either."
"Sure I would," he said lightly.
"Whatever you say," Jenna said with an eye roll. "Nice way to evade answering me, by the way. If you're spending the holiday in the Bahamas with a supermodel you don't have to be afraid to tell me."
"That was once, it was Hawaii, and I wasn't afraid to tell you, it was a miscommunication."
"Right," she said with an unconvinced little nod.
"It was. And I'm not spending the holidays in Hawaii, I thought I'd stick around here for a little while if I'm welcome." He missed a beat, then he said, "I do have some upcoming travel plans though."
"Oh yeah? Anywhere cool?"
"Paris."
"Ah," she said, nodding with a thin smile. "It's nice that you and Paris got over your differences."
"Well, I figured if you could, it was probably time for me to."
"I haven't been to Paris in years, not since before," Jenna told him.
"I know, but you posted that old picture of you at the café in Paris a couple weeks ago with a caption about wanting to go back."
Playfully narrowing her eyes—but unable to hold back a slight smile—Jenna said, "You were Facebook stalking me?"
"We're Facebook friends!" he said defensively.
"You saw it and remember it but didn't like or comment, that indicates creeping."
"Whatever," he said, cracking a smile.
"You were totally Facebook stalking me," she said with a grin.
"I wasn't! It got a lot of likes, it was at the top of my screen, what do you want me to do, not look?"
They were both smiling and making fun of each other when Anya came running over.
"Did you see me?" she asked excitedly.
"Yeah," Jenna said, beaming up at her daughter. "You were so great!"
Anya grinned back. "That was so much fun! I was scared at first but daddy was right, it was easy!"
"Are you all done? Can you go now, or do you have anything to do?"
"Ready to go. But did you hear me when I was singing the lines by myself?"
Anya continued to recount her part in the play they had just finished watched as she climbed down off the stage, adorable in her little red ribbed turtleneck with a little black skirt, matching black tights, and an adorably small pair of black Mary Janes.
"Can I get an autograph?" Jon asked.
"What's that?"
"Like you got at Disneyworld from the Disney characters," Jenna answered. "In your little autograph book?"
"Oh okay! I can do that. I can write my name, wanna see?"
"No way! I definitely want to see that."
"Yep," she said with an enthusiastic nod. "I know all my letters!"
"Wow. You must be the smartest kid in school," he said, shaking his head as if in awe.
"No, silly, the older kids are smarter."
As they approached their row of seats, Anya went running over to Wesley and Abby to ask them the same questions, and happily accepted the bouquet of flowers that was as big as she was from Wesley, who proclaimed them, "For the leading lady."
"It's a good thing she's getting siblings," Jon remarked. "It's the only chance she has of not having an ego the size of the Goodyear blimp."
"Says you," shot back Jenna.
Pointing at himself and raising an eyebrow, he said, "Only child. Point proven."
"Sure, blame that."
After the play, they were all going out to Anya's favorite restaurant to celebrate the success of her play, and since Jon flew in and took a taxi to the school for the play, he had to catch a ride with someone else. Marie, as soon as it came up, stated she wanted to ride with Wesley. When Jenna shot her a completely blank look, she pointed out Anya was riding with Wesley and she wanted to ride with Anya.
"I guess I could keep you company," Jon suggested, tilting his head to inquire in Jenna's direction.
"Might as well," she agreed, digging through her purse for the keys.
"That's the kind of enthusiasm I look for," Jon stated with a mock-solemn nod.
Once everyone was in the car and Jenna had directed Wesley no less than three times to drive carefully, they followed the steady stream of cars leaving the school parking lot. Since Jenna had been the one to drive Anya over to the school and they had been practicing Anya's songs for the part, the radio wasn't on, and in the initial silence, she wished the radio would have been on so that she didn't have to awkwardly reach over and fiddle with it and take the chance of highlighting the silence with her desperation to have background noise.
Right before she was about to reach for it anyway, Jon spoke.
"So, how come it didn't work out between you and that Latin teacher?"
"What?" she asked with a startled frown.
"I saw a couple of months ago you went from in a relationship to blank, and suddenly he dropped out of pictures and no more comments or likes."
Sparing him a glance to gape at him, she said, "How long ago did this Facebook stalking me start?"
"What, isn't the sole purpose of Facebook to keep tabs on people? I know that Robin broke up with that trust fund kid, too, does that mean I'm stalking her?"
"You might be. Maybe you Facebook stalk everyone."
"I do. Everyone in the whole world."
"I thought so."
"So, what happened?"
Shrugging, she said, "Nothing happened. Just wasn't right."
"He seemed like a nice guy."
"He was a nice guy," she agreed.
"So… you were looking for an asshole, or…?"
"No, I just… We had been dating for a while and talking for even longer than that and he didn't understand why I wouldn't let him meet Anya and he was relegated to date-nights only when she was with Wesley. He wanted to be more involved in my life and it became more and more of a problem that I wasn't ready to do that."
"How long did you date again?"
"What, you couldn't draft a timeline on Facebook?" she asked dryly. "It was about… five months, and we talked for a good month and a half before that."
"That seems like long enough to me."
"It should have been," she agreed with a nod.
"Huh. Fair enough. Well, for what it's worth, I think it's admirable that you didn't settle."
Jenna merely shrugged and didn't remark on it further. "What about you? Any lucky lady hoping you'll put a ring on it?"
"I take it you don't Facebook stalk me?" he asked with a little pout. "I'm hurt."
Instead of pointing out that at no point over the course of the two and half years they had been Facebook friends had he ever had a relationship status listed, she offered up another little shrug.
She was playing it so cool.
Resisting the urge to pat herself on the back—or at least smile smugly—was an actual struggle for a couple seconds.
"Nope, no lucky lady at the moment," he finally answered. "Well, lucky might be a subjective term anyway…"
Unable to resist just one little dig, she said, "That's true, I saw you had your eye on a new car; someone might offer you a trade."
With grimly upturned lips, Jon acknowledged, "I deserved that."
"Yes, you did," she agreed.
"Listen… about that…"
Jenna shook her head without looking at him. "Don't, it was three years ago, I'm over it, I was just busting your balls."
Sighing, he said, "I never really got to explain…"
"It was completely self-explanatory," she said on a half laugh, but more of disbelief than anything even closely resembling amusement. "It's ancient history at this point. I really don't want to talk about it."
"I wanted you to be happy."
"Bull shit," she said, actually laughing.
"I did. I know that sounds like bull shit but the way you kept bouncing back and forth about which one you wanted… I honestly thought if I was out of the picture, that would make it easier to settle down with him and have your happy little family. I thought maybe I was the distraction in the way. Not to sound like an asshole, but you wouldn't be the first woman who made a bad decision because she was in lust with someone else."
"Don't even, Jon. Don't try to make up excuses and make it some noble thing that you did. I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions, and I don't believe you're that high-handed for a second. You're full of shit. You traded me for a goddamn townhouse; are you kidding me? Just… don't."
"I'm not saying it was a selfless gesture, I didn't realize how much I would immediately regret it, but I also genuinely thought with me out of the way, you and Wesley would live happily ever after."
"Really, you thought that? Me and Wesley? We weren't even well-suited, Jon. Not in the least. Don't try to make yourself feel better for what you did."
Flashing a quirked eyebrow, he said, "Over it, huh?"
Sighing briefly in irritation, she clenched her jaw and focused on driving, deciding to just ignore Jon until they got to the restaurant.
"There's no one reason I did it, Jenna. No reason would be good enough anyway. I fucked up, it's that simple—it was a mistake. Doesn't matter what I intended or what I thought or how I felt, it just matters that I did a really stupid thing and I hurt you, and for that I'm really sorry."
"I know," she said succinctly. "I got the drunken voicemails."
Grimacing, Jon said, "Sorry about those."
Her response was an indifferent shrug.
"I went through a lot of alcohol in the months after I moved to Paris. I somehow never completely remembered what I said when I woke up the next day, so… if I said anything awful, I apologize again."
Privately, Jenna thought that—whether subconsciously or not—he chose not to remember those drunken conversations and voice mails in which he sloppily apologized, told her how much he missed her, tried to make her jealous, or on two occasions, professed his love for her. If only she had been drunk enough to forget them as well, perhaps it wouldn't have taken her a year and half to go on another date again after that whole fiasco.
"Changing your number was a good call though," he added.
Smiling slightly, she said, "Wesley's idea."
"I'm surprised it wasn't yours. I probably would have been pretty pissed if some girl did that to me."
"It doesn't matter now," she said simply. "I'm not sure why you're doing this 12-steps conscience clearing thing, are you dying or something?"
He paused, much longer than she expected, and when she glanced over at him, he was looking at his hands in his lap. "Actually…"
"What?!" she exclaimed, her voice going much louder than she expected, her heart dropping right out of her chest, and a weird black-hole-type feeling unleashing itself in the pit of her stomach.
"I've been seeing a doctor…"
"What? No, you're…" She floundered, opening and closing her mouth, unable to speak.
"Oh my God, Jenna, I'm fucking with you," Jon said, bursting into laughter.
"What?" she demanded again, immediately furious.
"I'm fine, I'm healthy as a horse, I was just fucking with you. I'm sorry."
"That's. Not. Funny!" she said, punctuating each word with a slap to his arm.
Putting up his arm to block her, still laughing, he said, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I promise never to pretend to be dying again."
"My God," she said, shaking her head. "What kind of person jokes like that?"
Pointing at her, eyes dancing, he said, "You were worried though."
"Yeah, well…" Unable to come back with a response, and feeling her face heating up with vague embarrassment at being caught caring that he might die, she settled with shaking her head in irritation.
Jon merely grinned. "You want me to live."
"I don't care what you do," she shot back stubbornly. "Swim with piranhas for all I care."
"And sharks?" he added helpfully.
"Especially sharks. And cut yourself first so they catch your scent."
"You don't want me to die," he continued smugly.
Once more, Jenna rolled her eyes.
Everybody arrived at the restaurant around the same time. Jenna on the end with Anya between her and Wesley. Abby sat across from Wesley with Marie across from Anya and Jon seated right across from Jenna. Inexplicably, Jenna all but ignored him while they ate, making a couple of biting responses to things he said, but even trying to avoid looking over at him, which was a bit unnatural given their positions at the table and Anya's ability to feed herself.
After their meals but before dessert, Jenna excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Marie decided she needed to use the restroom, too, so she followed after her daughter.
While standing at the sinks washing their hands, Marie said, "So… how do you feel about Jon being back?"
"He isn't back, he's just in town for the holiday," Jenna replied with feigned indifference.
"You were, like, hardcore giving him the cold shoulder at dinner," Marie pointed out.
"No, I wasn't," Jenna disagreed.
"It's like the North Pole over there. Polar bears wouldn't sit with you guys. Did he say something to piss you off?"
"No, it's not that," Jenna said, her voice rising just a little with something like irritation.
"Then what is it?"
"I… I don't know, it's annoying how when he comes back, it's just like he never left, like three years haven't passed and he hasn't been with god knows how many women since then and he never traded me for a townhouse. There's still this easy… rapport with him that just seems to unpause when he comes back and makes even the flimsiest effort to be playful with me, and it's annoying. It's annoying because you can't just unpause, you know? Things have changed, three years have passed and all of that did happen, and he can't just… it can't be that easy for him to just slip back into the same playful conversations and mannerisms, the same familiarity. You're not familiar anymore, you don't get to… have that because you've been back for five minutes."
Marie was smiling a slightly sad, more than slightly knowing kind of smile.
"Don't give me that look," Jenna said, pointing her finger at her mother and then heading for the paper towels.
Once dinner was over, Jenna gave Anya hugs and kisses since she was going to spend the night at her father's house. She told her what a great job she did as the little tree in the play and told her how very proud she was of her. Anya beamed back, and gave her sweet hugs and kisses.
Weirdly, when she stood back up and she saw Abby watching the display with a smile as she rubbed her own very pregnant belly, Jenna felt a little pang. Not jealousy, but more like a pinch of longing—and it had nothing to do with Wesley.
Someday she hoped she would get to give Anya a sibling, a little baby to hug and cuddle and kiss, to sing songs to and watch grow up, seeing first steps, first teeth, first boo-boos, to have a loving older sister bursting with excitement over the new baby's arrival—even if that excitement might shift into a little bit of rivalry once the reality set in.
It was only a momentary pang, and passed before Anya even gave her a wave goodbye then threw a kiss.
Jenna smiled and threw a kiss back, hugging herself tightly to ward off the cold.
"Well, that was fun."
Startled, she turned to see Jon. "You're still here."
"Where would I have gone?" he asked, giving her a funny look.
"I got lost in my own little world for a minute."
Holding up his cell phone, he said, "My battery's dead."
"And…?"
"I need a ride. I was going to just call a cab, but…"
Digging her phone out of her purse, she held it out to him.
"Oh. Thanks," he said, flashing a smile and grabbing her phone.
Jenna turned away and walked over to her car, sliding into the driver's seat to turn it on.
Her mother went with Wesley so he could drop her off at the school to get her car on his way home and Jenna pondered what to do with her night to herself. It always felt a little weird when Anya wasn't at home, even if it was late enough at that point that she would only be up long enough to take a bath and get ready for bed anyway. Wesley had offered to help her buy a house closer to his so that she would be even closer (particularly nice on nights he had Anya but she stayed over there until it was time for Anya to go to bed), but Jenna had insisted they were just fine in the two bedroom townhouse that she rented. That had been almost three years earlier though, and honestly, she was getting to the point where she wanted a bigger yard for Anya than the little patch of grass in front of her townhouse, barely big enough to fit a small wading pool in the summer. It might be time to start looking into an upgrade, especially if she ever wanted the possibility of expanding her family someday.
The snow crunching beneath his feet alerted her to Jon's approach before he stopped outside of the driver's side, hands shoved into his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.
"No reception," he said simply.
"What?" she asked with a frown, holding out her hand for the phone. "I never have no reception."
Jon shrugged. "First time for everything. Could you possibly just give me a lift back to your place and I can call a cab from the house phone?"
Sighing heavily, she said, "Yeah, I guess so. Hop in."
Briefly thanking her, he walked around and got into the passenger seat. Luckily it was a quick drive back to her house so she didn't have to drive far.
The chill in the air seemed to be dropping by the moment, and by the time they got to her townhouse door, the wind and the cold made Jenna feel like a popsicle.
"I haven't missed this weather," he stated.
Smiling a little as she jammed her key into the lock, she said, "Miami's made you soft."
Chuckling lightly, he said, "No, I assure you, I'm still hard as ever."
She spared him a look of exasperation over her shoulder but almost cracked an indulgent smile.
The door opened and they rushed inside. Jenna felt along the wall for the light, since it was dark and she couldn't see. Before she could reach the light, Jon caught her hand, turned her around until she was pressed against the wall, and he was right there, mere inches from her face. Her heart accelerated and she swallowed, uncertain and wishing he would have at least let her put a light on before cornering her.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he leaned in, slowly enough that she had time to turn her face if she wanted to snub him, but intently enough that she very much knew his intention and wouldn't be able to claim otherwise after the fact.
Then his lips were on hers, and she forgot about keeping score or saving face. It had escaped her memory, the feeling of his lips on hers, the way they melted beneath his and his tongue crept between her lips, seemingly igniting a spark somewhere in the vicinity of her brain and throwing her whole body off.
Well, almost her whole body.
She felt a not-so-subtle thump between her legs and released the smallest moan as she allowed herself to be pulled into the intoxicating kiss, allowed her arms to wind themselves around his frame, pulling him up against her as if she could somehow pull him closer than he already was. It was a desperate kiss on both ends, as if their first or their last, and despite Jenna's body's urging to just pull all of their clothes off and see how long they could make believe, Jon was actually the one to finally break the kiss after a minute of bliss.
A bit dazedly, she asked, "Did you get better at that?"
He chuckled lightly, smiling at her in the darkness. "I don't think so. You probably just forgot. The teacher must not have been a good kisser."
"He was a fine kisser, you're the only person I've ever met who had a flint tongue, that's hardly his fault."
"A flint tongue," he reiterated slowly.
"You know what flint is, don't you?" she replied, rolling her eyes.
"I do," he said, grinning wickedly. "It's nice to know I start a fire for ya."
Shaking her head, she felt along the wall for the light switch and that time was able to flip it on.
Then she frowned, because she spotted something swinging from the ceiling out of the corner of her eye.
It appeared to be an envelope, attached to a red string like they tie onto balloons. Frowning as she left Jon to snatch the envelope, her heart began to race. Who had been in her house? The door had been locked, she always locked the door, and the only other people with keys were Wesley and her mother. Neither of them made any mention of stopping by her house unannounced when she wasn't there.
Ripping open the envelope unceremoniously, she found a piece of pale blue paper with the Eiffel tower embossed on the left hand side of the invite, and on the right hand side in cursive type it read, "You are cordially invited…"
Dropping her gaze halfway down the sparsely worded invite, she read, "Where: Paris, France. When: Whenever you're available. What: A romantic Parisian vacation. RSVP: Jon Carter."
Glancing up in confusion, she said, "What the hell is this?"
He merely offered an innocent shrug and watched as she caught sight of something on the arm of her couch.
A red rose.
Still confused, she walked over to the couch and grabbed the rose, noticing a blue rectangular paper that looked like a smaller version of the invitation had a hole punched in it and was attached to the stem of the rose by one of those same red balloon strings. That one read, "This coupon is good for: a romantic evening stroll in Montmarte." Below that in much smaller print, it read, "This coupon is not redeemable for cash. Sorry."
Cracking a half smile even as she continued to frown in confusion, she looked up at the rose and then the couch and realized another rose was on the other arm of the couch. That one also had a coupon dangling from a red string, but that one read, "This coupon is good for: A romantic picnic (with an Eiffel tower view) on the Champs de Mars."
Catching on, she turned to look for another rose and found one lying on the kitchen table. That coupon read, "A Day at the Palais Garnier!"
Another rose on the counter read, "Dinner and drinks at Le Train Bleu." She smiled slightly, because she remembered Jon being tagged in a photo at that train station restaurant in a photo on Facebook and she remarked that it was pretty enough to get married there, and she needed to go there someday. That had been over two years ago.
The next two roses she found had coupons for a show at the Moulin Rouge, and a romantic dinner cruise on the Seine River.
She didn't see any more roses at first, then she noticed one lying in the hallway off the living room halfway to her bedroom. She retrieved it, and that one promised, "All the baguettes you can eat!"
There was another rose lying on the threshold between the hallway and her bedroom, and that one was good for champagne for two at some place called Flute that she had never heard of.
Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "I never said I wanted to go anywhere called Flute."
"I know, you're gonna have to trust me on that one."
The next one was on her bed, sitting on top of a small wrapped square package, with a coupon good for, "A trip to Shakespeare and Company Bookshop…since I remember how much you love Shakespeare."
She tore open the package to find a folded up canvas bag that said Shakespeare And Company in blue with a blue sketched image of a cute looking bookshop. When she put her hand in the bag to give it its shape, she felt something small and firm, and she pulled out a small envelope and opened it up, pulling out a little card like florists stick in bouquets. On it, in Jon's handwriting, it said, "'We were together. I forget the rest.' –Walt Whitman."
A tenth rose was propped up on her pillow, with a coupon that said, "As many stops at as many bakeries as it takes to find the best éclair in Paris."
There was another rose on her night stand, but instead of a coupon, there was a note that said, "Find it in your heart to forgive me?" and a heart shaped necklace tied onto that rose, pooled under the rose on the nightstand until she picked it up and untied the red string, releasing the necklace.
It was a pretty heart shaped locket with an image on the front of the heart that looked like an aged postcard from Paris, with the Eiffel tower, the post stamp, and just a hint of a postage stamp in the right corner of the heart. It was very pretty, and when she cracked it open, instead of pictures, the left side of the heart said "Forgive" and the right side said "him."
Chuckling a little as she looked up at Jon, she said, "I admit, that's cute."
By that point, she had an arm full of roses, but a quick count turned up 11, which seemed a bit odd—one shy of a dozen? She gave the rest of her room a cursory glance and saw nothing, but then she noticed Jon was standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
Jon gave her one of his cute, mischievous smiles, then he pulled the last rose from behind his back and offered it to her.
She reached out and took it, and saw the last "coupon" simply said, "Your choice."
She took the rose and smelled it, peering up at him over the petals. "How did you get into my house?"
"Your mom," he answered.
Nodding a little, she said, "I should've guessed that. She's such a double agent."
"You have no idea the groveling I had to do," he disagreed. "I worked for it, believe me."
"Good," she said with a smug little smile.
"Now, before you say no," he implored, "I believe that sometimes the right people meet at the wrong time. While I accept complete responsibility for why we never made it off the ground three years ago, I also think it wasn't the right time for us."
Quirking an eyebrow, she said, "I'm listening."
"I wasn't ready for you three years ago. I don't think you were ready for me either, what with just getting away from Trevor and your will-they-won't-they involvement with my cousin and then being in the middle of an adoption, but even if you disagree… the timing was all wrong for me, I wasn't ready for all of that. I wasn't ready for my own insta-family. I wasn't looking for a serious relationship when I asked you out after that retirement party, and even though I completely regretted letting you go and I definitely did it for the wrong reasons, I think in the long run it was the right thing to do." Making a defensive gesture and grimacing a little, he said, "Before you attack me for saying that, think of how much more difficult everything would have been with Anya and Wesley if we would have been together. Think about how long it took you until you were ready to date someone else after all of that."
"How long it took me? That wasn't just because of them. Okay, yes, some of it was that, but you didn't help matters. I already didn't trust men and then you sold our relationship for a townhouse. It took me so long to date again because all the stupid ass men I got involved with screwed with me emotionally. Aaron was incredibly understanding and he moved at a snail's pace and treated me like a skittish horse—that's the only reason I was able to date him. A man who was interested in me and not using me for anything? It was like a salve after the bunch of you."
"Then I'm glad you met him. I'm sorry for adding to the damage, that… was never my intention."
Jenna merely rolled her eyes, shaking her head a little. "Not sure what other kind of emotional reaction you could have expected."
Instead of answering, he came forward and sat down on the bed beside her, looking at her earnestly. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to cause you anymore problems. I would never do something as stupid as what I did before ever again. I have not gone more than one day in three years without thinking about you."
Wincing inwardly at that little tug on the heart strings, she did her best to keep her face clear of any wavering.
"I still dream about you. Probably once a week now, it used to be more often. You got into my head somehow," he said with a wry smile.
Shrugging delicately, she said, "I can be sneaky like that."
"Je sais," he replied, 'I know.'
Jenna grinned, remembering how she had kept her knowledge of French secret all those years earlier.
"Now, having said all this, as much as I want you to give me another chance now that I am ready, I understand if you don't want to. A lot of time has passed, and… I really let you down before. I understand if you're not willing to take that chance again. I'm only going to ask this once, so I figured I'd go big or go home… but, do you think any of this is something you might be willing to consider?"
Instead of answering right away, Jenna pressed her lips together, crossed her arms, and leaned her head on her fist while she appeared to visibly mull it over. After a moment, she said, "Hypothetically, when is this romantic Parisian vacation?"
"Well, I was thinking this summer when Wesley is supposed to take Anya to visit his family. You'll be without Anya anyway, which I'm sure will drive you crazy, so why not have me there to help take your mind off things?"
Narrowing her eyes, she said, "How do you know about Anya's summer plans?"
"I found out from Wesley. He knows about this too, by the way."
"Nice." Then, shaking her head, she said, "Everyone's a double agent."
"Yeah, well… he felt bad enough about his part in keeping us apart before. He offered to pay for the trip because he's Wesley, but I told him to shove that up his ass."
Grinning, she said, "You could've at least borrowed the plane. Much more comfortable than flying commercial. Not like he can't afford it."
"Yeah, well, I don't do so bad for myself these days."
"I wasn't insinuating otherwise," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"Also worth noting, if this is something you want to pursue I realize you can't move to Miami, and frankly I'm sick of Miami anyway and looking for a change of scenery… if you want to give this a shot, I'm going to move back here, probably use my relocation money to get a little house of some kind, something with growth potential."
"Really?" she asked, unable to hide how impressive that was. "Jon Carter is giving up Miami babes and coming back here to deal with the snow and getting a grown-up house?"
"I know, it's pretty crazy. But if you don't want to, just let me know. There's a position in London open as well, and if I don't come back here, I'm going for that one."
Smile waning a smidge, she said, "Well, which one would you prefer? I can't make that decision for you."
"I'm not asking you to. Just letting you know you won't have to run into me very often if you don't want to try again. I want you. All things being equal, I don't give a damn where I live. I can be happy anywhere."
"I know," she said, offering a little fond smile. "I always admired that about you."
"I'm not asking you to decide where I live, I wouldn't put that kind of pressure on you. I just need to know if you wanna give me another chance, see where we end up. No pressure, but… hopefully Paris."
Cracking a smile, she said, "If I say yes, do we not start dating until Paris? How does this work? You do still live in Miami at the time being and I am a single mom, which is another thing you really should consider. I know you're good with kids in small doses, but if we were in a serious relationship you wouldn't just be here for the cute stuff, you'd be here for, you know, projectile vomit across the kitchen floor and 'Whoops, I need new underwear!' and all that other fun stuff, I mean, that's all part of my package now."
Despite his grimace, he said, "I'm aware of that. I can handle it."
"I want more kids," she stated without preamble. "At least one, maybe two. And I want them before Anya is old enough to be having her own kids."
"I also want kids, after marriage, which… comes after dating, but I'm open to all of that."
Nodding pensively, she said, "If I agree to this and you make me regret it, you will live to regret it more."
"I can accept that," he said, nodding his head. "Believe me Jenna, if I wasn't completely sure that I wanted this, I wouldn't have asked. I'm not going to jerk you around. I'm getting to a point in my life where I'm ready for all that domestic hoopla, and… unless I'm completely missing the mark, I feel like it could be with you."
After considering that for a moment, she said, "I have to bring this up. I seem to remember you had certain attitudes toward infidelity that…I wasn't a fan of."
"Not the case," he said, eyebrows rising. "If you'll remember correctly, I was merely saying that infidelity is usually explainable. I would never cheat on you, Jenna."
"I have one more very, very, very important stipulation," she stated. "Mandatory, really. If you say no, I can't even consider Paris."
"Oh yeah?" he asked a little cautiously. "And what's that?"
As solemnly as possible, Jenna replied, "You have to make me apple pancakes in the morning."
Since that wasn't at all what he expected, Jon started laughing, but his laughter was abruptly cut off when Jenna leaned in and rather aggressively went in for an instantly deep, mouth-plundering kiss. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, and Jenna snuck her hands up between their bodies to start unbuttoning her coat while simultaneously kicking her shoes off and then kicking them off to the side. Jon followed suit, kicking his own shoes off and removing his own coat, and once both coats were off and they were buried under all that extra material, he leaned in and resumed the kiss, his hand creeping up her neck, fingers gliding through her thick brown hair.
While his hands traveled north, hers traveled south, and she stopped to run her hands down his chest to his stomach.
Pulling back with an impish little smile, she said, "You weren't kidding about them still being hard."
Scoffing and rolling his eyes, he replied, "Those aren't what I was referring to."
"I know, but I haven't gotten that far yet," she shot back.
"Miss Evans, you shock me."
That time it was her turn to scoff. "Sure, 'cause that's all it takes to shock you."
His smirk disappeared when she leaned in for another kiss, and he let her run the show for a couple of minutes, the kisses soft and tender, then he took control, shifting the mood, being a bit more demanding as his hand snaked up her shirt.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she tossed out there.
"Why not?" he asked, but made no move to stop leaving kisses across her jawline and down her neck, giving her goose bumps everywhere his lips touched.
"Because it's been three years. We should be talking, getting better acquainted or…something."
"I vote for the 'or something,' Jon replied easily. Then he pulled back, meeting her gaze. "But you can certainly overrule me if I'm moving too fast."
"I started it," she reminded him.
"Yeah, you kinda did, didn't you? Well, I guess that settles it then."
She laughed as he playfully attacked her, hauling her backwards on the bed and scooting her over closer to the middle so they weren't so near to the edge.
Smiling as she glanced up at him, absently bringing her hand up to tenderly brush his face, she asked, "Are we really doing this?"
"We really are," he verified.
"It's a little crazy."
"No crazier than agreeing to marry your boss that you've never actually gone out with," he reminded her. "No crazier than adopting a toddler from Ukraine with said boss that you're not even dating. You, my dear, are no stranger to crazy."
"You, my dear, have an odd way of wooing a woman," she said, mimicking him with a raised eyebrow.
"But… apple pancakes."
Nodding solemnly, she said, "That's a good point."
"And Paris," he added, leaning in to kiss her neck again.
"Another good point, but Paris itself doesn't get you as many brownie points as the way you asked. That was sweeter than I would've expected from you."
"I can be sweet," Jon said, rolling his eyes.
Jenna fixed him with a devious little grin. "So can I, Mr. Carter," she returned sweetly as her fingers found his belt buckle. "So can I."
A/N: And that's all she wrote! What a T-rated tease, right? The good news is, I'm including a little extended scene full of steamy goodness for those of you who were hoping for a more M-rated pay-off! There will be no relevant information in the scene, so anyone who doesn't want to read it won't be missing out on anything. :)
The necklace in the cover picture now is the necklace from the story. :)
Thank you so much to all of my readers! You guys are super awesome! If you're interested in following me, you can head over and like my author Facebook page—I put a link to it in my profile. :)
I hope everybody enjoyed the final chapter!