Page 138 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

“Whoa! I did not see that coming.”

“I know! And we named the turtle Leroy.”

“Leroy?”

We’re finished eating, so we stand and clear the table. Rusty puts the leftovers in the fridge while I wipe off the table. I keep telling him parts of my dream as we move on to the dishes. I rinse, and he loads, and Pookie tries to lick everything he puts in the dishwasher. We both shoo her away, and I marvel at the singular happiness of this moment.

“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” Rusty asks, holding a dish and looking at me with his hazel eyes.

I smile. “I love you.”

He leans over the dishwasher to kiss my cheek. “I will never get tired of hearing you say that.”

“Good, because I plan to say it forever.”

He puts down the dishes and pins me against the counter. “Forever?” He drops his face down to kiss my neck, right below my ear, and I shiver. “It’s not long enough, but I’ll take it.”

EPILOGUE

ONE MONTH LATER

ASH

My dad has tackle-hugged my boyfriend.

"I'm so happy you two figured it out," Dad says, adjusting his glasses from where his face bumped into Rusty's. "I knew you would, but I'm still so happy to see my baby girl so happy!"

"Thanks, Greg," Rusty says. He has tears in his eyes, too, but he's blinking them away while my dad lets them fall freely. "I dig the shirt, by the way."

"Thanks! I made this one myself," he says, looking down at his "In My Lucy Jane Era" T-shirt that is almost definitely breaking some copyright or another. But, then, there are no cameras allowed at this concert, so I think he'll get away with it.

My mom hugs Rusty next, her huge mess of curls getting in his face. He smiles and lets it tickle his nose. "I've been waiting for this moment since the first time we FaceTimed," Mom gushes. "I told Greg, ‘You just wait. Our sweet girl is too naive to realize that's the boy she's going to marry someday.’"

"Naive? Rude!" I protest. "Dumb, yes. Immature, obviously. But naive?" I feign offense. "Wow, Mom. Wow."

"I like the part about marriage, though," Rusty says, gesturing to the Ring Pop on my finger.

He gives me a new one everyday, and I think I'm finally wearing him down on the flavor. At least now that he's discovered blue raspberry.

"There is no such thing as a blue raspberry, so they can make up whatever flavor they want," he told me when he switched exclusively to the blue ones. "The rest are all pretending to taste like something real, and they don't. They're an abomination."

"Excuse me? The watermelon flavor is so much better than actual watermelons."

I think I broke his heart when I said that, but since then, I've accepted the blue rings daily without complaint.

The sacrifices I make for love.

"Take your time," Dad says.

"Don't take too much time," my mom says. "I want some grandbabies with Southern accents!"

I look at Rusty with wide eyes, but he grins.

"Yes, ma'am."

I hold my hand out to Rusty. "Want to talk less about our future children and instead come with me to check on Lou?" I ask.

He takes my hand, and we leave my parents to sit on our picnic blanket. Jane and Tripp and Tripp's cousins are on a blanket to one side of us, and Parker, Sonny, and half of Sonny's family are on our other side. Past them are Millie, Duke, and Lottie.

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