“Good. All right, I gotta go figure out my schedule, now. See you tomorrow.”
I toss the phone aside and find Jo in the kitchen, plating fried eggs, toast, and bacon that’s so crispy it’s almost crumbly. She can barely restrain her eagerness as I approach.
“Well? What’d he say?”
“He said you and I better eat a hearty breakfast, because today is going to be epic.”
She holds a stern glare. “He did not say that.”
“No,” I admit, laughing. “He didn’t. But I have the day.”
Her eyes widen, and then she flings her arms around my neck, slamming into me. “Ohmygod, I’m so excited I can’t even breathe.” She buries her nose into my neck and inhales sharply. “So, what are we doing?”
I grin. “First, we’re eating this amazing breakfast you made.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t cook much, so this is the best I’ve got.”
“I’m starving,” I say. “And it looks great.”
“The bacon is burnt.”
“I like it crispy.”
A grin, shaking her head. “Well, it’s certainly crispy. I’m just glad I didn’t set the house on fire.”
“Me too!”
After we eat, I text Jen that we need to kick our plan for the date into hyperdrive. She’s been keeping things on the back burner until I gave her the go-ahead. I get a thumbs-up from her, which means she’s too busy complying to bother with an elaborate response. It’s something I appreciate about Jen: She doesn’t waste time or words.
I get a text from Jen as we’re cleaning up:Phase one, buy Jo an outfit. Limo OTW, ETA 5min. Will take you to a private shopping/fitting experience. Will segue into Phase 2: glam squad glow up. From there, phase 3. Helicopter ride to the date venue. And just let me say, Wes, I really knocked this one out of the park. Trust me. The Bachelor couldn’t have done it better.
I message back:thank you, Jen. More than I can say.
Save the sappy thanks for after. I’ll be sure to wear waterproof mascara.
I’m not sure what that means. Maybe she’s anticipating crying? I don’t know.
“Jo?” I call.
She emerges from the bedroom, brushing her teeth. “Huh?”
“When you’re done there, throw on some clothes.”
“Where’re we going?” she asks, around the toothbrush.
I smirk, blow a kiss to her. “And spoil the surprise? Not telling.”
“Should I dress up?”
“Nope.”
I grin at the excitement radiating off of her. Seeing her looking better puts my heart at ease—maybe it’s only temporary, but I’ll take it.
She’s got verve, and energy, and joy—and it’s infectious.
A few minutes later, there’s a honk out front.
“Who’s that?” Jo asks, stuffing her feet into a pair of sandals.
