The Love Wager

Hallie

Hallie opened her eyes and groaned.

Dear God.

Her temples pounded as she reached up and tugged on the blanket that was covering her head. She welcomed the cool air on her face once she was out from under the heavy duvet, but then she saw her own terrifying reflection in the mirror directly in front of her.

Mirror?

Wait. What?

It was then that she realized not only was she lying sideways across the bed, but she was at the foot of the bed. And that it was not “the” bed, as in a bed familiar to her, but “a” bed, as in one she didn’t know.

Oh, Gawd.

No, no, no, no.

Scenes from the night before came flying at her, and she tried her best not to move the mattress as she sat up and peered over her shoulder. There was a sea of white bedding between them, sheets and comforters that were twisted and resting in haphazard piles, but yes—there was definitely a body sleeping at the top of the bed.

His head, which appeared to be facedown on the pillow, was covered in thick, dark hair that she knew firsthand felt surprisingly soft when you grabbed it by the handful. Visions of the two of them up against the door of the hotel room flashed through her mind, her hands buried in his hair while he—

GAH.

Nope.

She had to get out of there. She saw her pants and one of her shoes next to the door. Her other shoe lay in the bathroom doorway as if kicked off . . . oh, yeah, she remembered kicking it off and sliding out of her pants before the door was even closed behind them.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

She moved gingerly, because the last thing she wanted was to wake the guy. Really, how awkward would that be? Hi, remember me? I’m the bartender who ripped all the buttons off your tuxedo shirt. No, Hallie needed to stealthily get dressed and get the hell out.

She rolled off the end of the bed, landing on her hands and knees. She forced herself not to think of how dirty the hotel carpet was—bodily fluids everywhere and the black light thing arrrgghhhh—and she popped her head up to make sure he was still sleeping.

Yep. Still asleep, or possibly dead, so that was good.

She dropped back down and crawled toward her pants. She imagined she made quite a picture, high-speed crawling in a tank top and a pair of pink underwear that had tiny squirrels plastered all over them. She was pretty sure this was a low point, but she didn’t have time to slow down and find decorum.

When she reached her pants, she jumped into them as fast as she could, pulling them up as quietly as possible while staring at the bed. Please keep sleeping. She jammed her feet into her flats as she looked around the room for her bra.

Where in the hell was that underwired nightmare?

She checked the bathroom, then leaned down and checked under the bed, but that thing was nowhere to be found. She tiptoed closer to the bed. It was probably tangled in the bedding, but at that moment Jack made a noise and flipped over onto his back, which made her drop down to her knees again.

Why, you dipshit? screamed her brain in a very high-pitched and hysterical voice. What is the point of that? You’re not invisible if you’re crawling, you tool.

Hallie got back to her feet and realized that any other time, she’d be stopping to gaze upon the man’s body. His broad chest, tight stomach, and ropy biceps were downright lovely, and she kind of maybe thought she might’ve bitten his forearm last night, but she was too focused on escape to enjoy the view.

She squinted and tried to see her bra amongst the sheets, but Jack seemed to be breathing a little louder, so she couldn’t risk it. She said, “Fuck it,” and gave up, grabbed her purse, and left, letting out her breath when the door finally shut softly behind her. She could feel her bralessness as she jogged down the corridor, and she crossed her arms when she had to stop and wait for the elevator. There were girls who looked good doing the whole braless-in-a-tank-top vibe—Kate Hudson, perhaps—but Hallie was not one of them.

She looked obscene.

A housekeeper walked by with her cart, and Hallie wished she hadn’t seen her reflection in that hotel room mirror, because she knew just how awful she looked. As she waited for the elevator, she wondered if Jack would be mad that she left without saying goodbye. Like, what was the etiquette in that situation? She’d never been a one-nighter kind of girl, so she didn’t know what sort of niceties were usually exchanged before parting. Maybe I’ll creep on social media and DM him. “Thanks for the brilliant bonk, bro—”

But before she could even finish that thought, it hit her.

She didn’t know his last name.

The elevator doors opened, and she was in the grips of a tiny freak-out as she went into the shiny car and hit the lobby button.

Holy shit, I don’t know his last name!

It wouldn’t be hard to figure out Jack’s full name if she wanted to. His sister had been the bride, and he’d bought a ring at Borsheim’s the day before. It’d be easy for Hallie to find out his last name, but that wasn’t the point.

She took a deep breath as the elevator reached the ground floor with a ding.

The point, she thought as she took the walk of shame through the lobby with bed head and unsupported bouncy bits, was that she had just woken up in the hotel room of a guy whose full name she didn’t know. Her undergarment was missing, her head was throbbing, and she had to walk by a front desk that was staffed with employees who all knew she’d worked the wedding the night before.

Hot mess shit show, indeed.

And when Robert, the sweet, grandfatherly bellman who usually showed her pics of his kids when she worked a wedding, gave her a friendly wave before dropping his eyes down to her chest and quickly looking away in extreme awkwardness, she realized that she’d definitely hit rock bottom.

Jack

Jack entered the hotel restaurant, his head throbbing as he walked toward the big table where his entire family was having post-wedding brunch. He was thirty minutes late, and there was approximately zero chance his mother wouldn’t notice.

“Jackie boy,” his uncle said, smiling and holding up a bagel in greeting.

“Morning, Uncle Gary,” Jack said, trying to smile but finding it incredibly difficult. Did it have to be so goddamn bright in there?

“You’re so fucking late,” his older brother, Will, said, half smiling as he chewed what looked to be eggs. “Ever heard of an alarm?”

Jack ignored him and pulled out the empty chair next to Colin, his best friend and brand-new brother-in-law. He lowered himself into the seat and said, his throat dry as hell, “Where’s Livvie?”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“She’s at the buffet getting more pancakes,” Colin said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the long line of tables.

Jack looked at the buffet, and sure enough, his sister was filling her plate. “Dear God, if they have pancakes, you’re missing your flight for sure.”

Olivia and Colin were leaving for a two-week Italian honeymoon once brunch was over.

“She’s bottomless, right?” Colin said, smiling, and Jack was too hungover—and suddenly too single—to sit there and listen to Colin get gooey about his sister. He was glad they were happy, but that didn’t mean he wanted to soak that shit up when he had a throbbing temple and an apartment to move out of.

“Hotcake junkie for sure.” Jack got up and went to the buffet, careful to keep his head down to avoid conversations with cousins and aunties. There were far too many family members milling about the restaurant for his comfort, so he grabbed a plate and headed straight for Olivia.

“I cannot believe,” she said, somehow knowing it was him without turning her head, “that you’re this late and Mom hasn’t said a word yet. If I’d been thirty seconds late, every relative would’ve heard about it.”

“True.” It was a well-known fact that Jack was the favorite child of Nancy Marshall.

“You smell like whiskey,” she said, narrowing her eyes and finally looking at him. “Wow—and you look like you slept in a dumpster. What the hell happened to you?”

Jack raised a hand to his hair; did he look that bad? “Nothing.”

“Seriously, though,” she said, tilting her head a little. “What did happen to you? After Vanessa lost her shit, you kind of disappeared. Where’d you go?”

He wouldn’t have told anyone else, but he’d always been able to be completely honest with Livvie when he screwed up. “Got hammered and had a sleepover with the bartender.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You did not.”

He shrugged.

She looked at him like he’d just declared himself a cheeseburger, and then she took his plate and set it beside hers on the buffet table before grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the back of the restaurant.

“Livvie—”

“Just come on.”

She led him to a spot right beside the kitchen door, and when they stopped, she blinked up at him and said, “Jack, you were ready to propose twelve hours ago. How in God’s name were you able to sleep with a bartender?”

“Do you mean, like, the mechanics of the act?”

She growled and said, “No, I mean that I know you were upset about Vanessa last night. I saw your face after you came back in from the parking lot.”

He didn’t want to think about that, dammit. “So?”

“So a random hookup is a terrible idea that isn’t going to help your loneliness.”

“I’m not lonely, for fuck’s sake.”

“Really.” She crossed her arms and gave him a bullshit look. “You didn’t rush everything with Vanessa because you were sad and didn’t want to be alone?”

“Shut up, you nosy little shit,” he muttered, giving in to a smile when she rolled her eyes and pinched him.

“Listen, you tool,” she said, dropping her hand and looking serious. “We both know you loved the idea of a relationship so much that you forced it; you admitted it to me when you were drunk at Billy’s a couple weeks ago, remember?”

He wished he’d never shared that little morsel.

“Well, it sucks the way things went down, but I think this is a blessing,” she said, taking her phone out of her jeans pocket and looking at the display. “Now you’re free to find someone you actually have something in common with. Someone you have fun with.”

Just to mess with her, Jack said, “Well, I had a lot of fun with the bartender last night.”

“Spare me the details and let me give you the log-in for the dating app for which you’re now a paid subscriber.”

“What?” He groaned and glared at his sister. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, really.” It was her turn to shrug and smile. “After you said what you said at Billy’s, I might’ve set up an account for you and paid the fees, just in case.”

“In case . . . ?”

“In case you and Vanessa crashed and burned.”

Jack sighed.

“Instead of making a fuss and pretending to be mad,” she said, looking pleased with herself, “just say ‘Thank you, Liv.’ ”

“Butt out, Liv,” he replied.

“I’ll butt out,” she said, “as soon as you log in.”

Hallie

A week later

“You have to be kidding.” Chuck stabbed one of the Swedish meatballs on his plate and gave Hallie a look. “This could not have actually happened.”

“Which part don’t you believe?” Hallie asked her best friend as she dipped one of her french fries into ketchup. “The botched proposal or the drunken hotel sex?”

“More water?” The waiter looked down at her, and her cheeks got hot as her words hovered there. Drunken hotel sex.

“Um, no, thank you.”

Chuck started laughing and squealed out the words hotel sex, which made the waiter laugh, too. Once the server left, Chuck said, “All of it. I mean, what are the odds that you go to work, and all of that happens to you?”

Hallie jammed a few fries into her mouth and said, “I’m having trouble believing it myself, and it happened a week ago.”

“So the guy was attractive?” Chuck popped a meatball into his mouth. “Good under the covers?”

“He was hot for sure.” Hallie pictured Jack’s face and said, “Good under the covers, against the wall, in the elevator . . .”

“Remind me again why you’re complaining . . . ?”

“I’m not complaining.” Hallie took a sip of her Diet Pepsi and said, “I’m just disgusted with myself for being a hot mess shit show. Waking up at the foot of a stranger’s bed was the impetus I needed to change, and now I’m going to turn over a new leaf.”

“Your old leaf wasn’t fine?” Chuck rolled his eyes and said, “Because it seemed totally fine to me.”

“When Ben and I broke up, everything I started doing was supposed to be temporary. But I’m still living like a college student, Chuck. I need to get a real apartment without a roommate, a fresh haircut, some new clothes, perhaps a meaningful relationship—”

“Oh, my God,” he interrupted, his eyes huge and his mouth full of meaty ball bites as it hung wide open, his beard and mustache framing that mouth with orange fuzz. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna do it?”

Hallie inhaled through her nose, closed her eyes, and gave a nod of confirmation.

Chuck had been trying to get Hallie to go on Looking4TheReal, the dating app where he’d met Jamie (his now fiancée), since Hallie and Ben had broken up. He was convinced the app was some sort of magical matchmaker, and he never shut up about it.

Ever.

Chuck had never had a serious relationship before Jamie (which Hallie knew because she’d known him his entire life—he was also her second cousin). He was hands down the most unique person she’d ever met, but his inability to fit into a conventional category had always worked against him in the dating world.

Chuck was funny, smart, and handsome. But instead of watching football, he liked Disney movies. Instead of listening to hot singles, he listened to Broadway cast recordings. The man liked anime more than most humans did, and Hallie and Chuck had been known to spend hours texting about Bravo reality TV.

But a mere month after joining that stupid app, he’d found his soul mate.

And anyone who’d ever seen them together had no doubt that Jamie and Chuck were soul mates. She, too, was gorgeous, and Jamie loved his quirks, adored anime, and quickly joined Chuck and Hallie’s reality TV group chat.

Hallie had always said she “wasn’t ready” when he brought it up, because the mere thought of dating after Ben made her mildly nauseous, but now she felt almost desperate. It had occurred to her in the shower that morning that in addition to all the other ways she wanted to jump-start her life, she wanted love.

She did.

Maybe that made her pathetic, but she suddenly didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Can I call Jamie?” Chuck pulled his phone out of his pocket. “She’s going to lose it—”

“No.” Hallie shook her head. Jamie was like an overcaffeinated version of Chuck, and there was no reining her in when she got excited. “No Jamie.”

“You know I’m going to call her the second we’re done, right?”

“Yes, but I can’t handle both of you at once. You’re too much.”

His mouth slid into a big stupid grin. He said around a dreamy sigh, “We are, aren’t we?”

“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment.”

“Quit being a grouchy twat.” Another thing about Chuck—he watched a ton of British programming, so he threw out the t-word all the time. He stood and dragged his chair around the table, not stopping until he plopped down right next to her. “Let’s create a profile while we’re here, so all you have to do later is sip on a glass of wine and scroll through the available gents.”

“You make it sound like shopping,” she said, watching as he grabbed her phone, punched in the passcode (030122), and immediately went to work on creating an account.

“It’s basically the same thing,” he replied, his eyes on the phone. “Only instead of the perfect handbag, you’re shopping for the one person in the universe who will make you blissfully happy for the rest of your life.”

“Well,” Hallie said, irrationally excited underneath her feigned cynicism, “that sounds impossibly simple.”

“Shut up and let me do this for you.”

By the time they’d finished dinner, Hallie had an actual dating profile on an actual dating app. Chuck had come up with kickass verbiage that made her sound fun and smart, and she was genuinely excited to go home and start “shopping.”

Only when he pulled up in front of her dumpy apartment to drop her off, Chuck gasped loudly and said, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Hallie looked out the window but couldn’t see any reason for alarm.

He said, “I think there was a delay or something when you told me about your new leaf, because your words are just hitting me right now. Did you say you’re going to get your own place—without Ruthie?”

“Yes.”

He tilted his head. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell her?”

Hallie narrowed her eyes and said, “I’m just going to tell her. We’re both adults—it’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” His voice was higher in pitch.

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Ohmigawd, Chuck, quit trying to freak me out. I will tell her, she will accept it with a smile, and all will be well.”

He nodded and said, “Sure it will.”