Page 69 of The Probability of Us

“Looks like we have a new winner.” The man’s voice rings over the speakers. “Where’s team TrentAli?”

Ali waves her hand, not afraid of the attention and Trent swallows nervously. They’re invited up on stage which isn’t a normal thing if there’s no tiebreaker, but since Warren and I got called up earlier it’s not as suspicious. Maybe everything worked out perfectly after all.

After asking them their names, the man says, “There is one more question you have to answer before you can add your name to the board though.”

Ali looks back confused and while she’s distracted Trent pulls a box out of his pocket and gets down on one knee. When the man doesn’t give her the question she looks back to Trent for help and her hands fly up to her mouth. Tears immediately cloud her eyes.

I’ve never heard it this quiet in here as Trent says, “Alison Jennings, will you marry me?”

I don’t know if he had planned to say more or not. He’s shaking and is obviously nervous from this attention, but he looks at her with nothing but love in his eyes.

She’s practically bouncing as she nods her head and says, “Yes,” before reaching down and pulling him up to kiss him. All of us cheer, our table loudest of all as he slips the ring on her finger.

Twenty-Seven

JANUARY 6 YEARS AGO

My knee bounces with excitement as I ride in the backseat of an Uber on the way to the airport. I’m going to Washington D.C. today. I’m going to see Warren today.

He hasn’t even been gone a full month, but I’d commit crimes to see him for only seconds. He’s been pretty busy settling into his apartment and job there, so even when we were able to FaceTime, he’d often end up falling asleep on the call. I didn’t mind though, I’d just cuddle up in his T-shirts I’ve been collecting since he told me he was leaving and pretend it was his arms around me. Being able to see him sleep just as I’ve always been able to is a comfort I didn’t know I needed.

He might be states away but he’s still mine, and that’s all I really need.

I booked this ticket to see him the day he left, and I’ve been counting down the days until it arrived. The only reason I didn’t book it earlier is because I was holding out hope that he’d eventually ask me to come with him.

I close my eyes tight and try to erase that thought from my mind. This trip is for good things only, not things I wish happened. We can still make this work, we’re going to make this work.

“Which airline?” the driver asks and I open my eyes. We’re pulling up to the departure’s terminal.

“American,” I say, and he nods.

It’s only another minute before he pulls over and wishes me safe travels. I mumble a “Thanks,” but all of my attention is turned to the building that will take me one step closer to seeing my man.

I just have a carry-on for the weekend trip, so I head straight to security and groan when it’s a long line. I’m inpatient, anxious, excited, and I can’t stand still. I’m bouncing in line, stepping side to side almost in a dance because I have so much adrenaline coursing through me. My movements draw the attention of the TSA workers, but I’m too antsy to be able to stop. Their eyes stay glued to me, probably interpreting my happiness as nervousness of being caught.

They must be so cautious of me that they bring out the dog to sniff the line. Three sets of uniformed eyes watch as I pass by the dog, it sniffs, and keeps going, but it’s apparently not enough to halt their suspicions because I just happen to get pulled for a hand swab testandmy bag gets searched. The man searching my bag asks where I’m going, and I grin.

“I’m going to see my boyfriend,” I say, excitement evident in my words. I can’t stop speaking, needing to tell another person about my plans. “You see, he just got a new job and moved to DC, so I haven’t seen him in a month and?—”

The man quickly closes my bag, fights an eye roll at the piles of lingerie he found, and grumbles, “Have a good trip.”

I can’t tell if he was actually done searching the bag or just wanted me to shut up. I stare at him another second before shrugging, grabbing my bag, and practically skipping towards my gate.

Once I arrive at my gate. I pull a book out of my bag. I try to read but I can’t focus, so I plug in my headphones and put on a TV show I downloaded last night. But a few minutes later I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened, so I shut that off too. The only thing that holds my attention is the screen with the words Washington D.C. and boarding in fifty minutes. I watch it count down.

Forty-five minutes.

Thirty-five.

Thirty.

Hurry up.

I’m shaking so much I almost miss my phone vibrating, and I practically squeal when it’s his name I see. The people sitting around me glance my way, but I’m too happy to care.

“Hi, my love,” I coo into the phone. “I’m at the gate just waiting to board. It’s taking forever though.”

It’s quiet on the other side—a chilling quiet that sends a shiver through me.

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