“Yeah.” And she did. “I’m good now.”
London kissed her once more, softly, on the lips.
“So”—they ran a hand into her hair again—“we’re going to start with the barbecue, but then you’re going to tell me much more about this whole U-Haul thing.”
She nodded.
“Deal.”
“All right, Woodson.” London squeezed her hand and picked up the sweet potato pie. “Let’s eat.”
EPILOGUE
Three months later
Dahlia gripped London’s hair in her hands. “Oh, fuck,” she said. “London. I’m close.”
London pulled back to grin up at her.
“I know. You’re rather obvious about it.”
“Just . . .” Dahlia groaned, exasperated, before she pushed London’s cheeky face back between her legs. “I need you to—oh.”
Several dizzy, stars-blinking-behind-her-eyelids moments later, London crawled back up Dahlia’s body, leaving kisses along the way.
“Good morning,” they whispered into her lips, haughty and beautiful, before rolling off the bed, leaving her boneless in the depths of their voluminous white duvet.
Dahlia really did love Nashville. But she swore London had tricked her into moving in with them with this bed. The mattress was heavenly. Dahlia did not want to know what it cost.
She had sublet a room when she officially moved to Nashville two months ago. But after only a month, London convinced her she was losing money on it, being that she was always here anyway. After Dahlia insisted she would pay rent, which London noncommittally consented to with an eye roll, she agreed.
And so Dahlia had moved in to London’s apartment in 12 South, with its exposed brick walls, its high ceilings and minimalist furniture, and its proximity to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams.
Dahlia had been shocked that London never told her that her favorite ice cream in LA had a location here, too.
So maybe it was actually Jeni who tricked her.
In either case, Dahlia and London were still in negotiations about the rent.
They were in even more heated negotiations about a dog.
“You sure you don’t want me to do something for you?” Dahlia asked with a yawn.
London shook their head from the bathroom, already brushing their teeth.
“No time.” They rinsed. “And anyway, that was more than enough for me.”
“I suppose it was a decent way to wake up.”
“I still can’t believe you’re not going with me.” London walked back into the bedroom, rolling the cuffs of their shirt.
“Believe me, I want to traipse around New York with you, too.” Dahlia snuggled even further into the sheets. “But Hank’s had his ticket booked for two months. And I have a ton of stuff to do before he gets here.”
“I know, I know.” London sighed. “But what if they ask me dumb questions? And I get cranky? What if I’m not good enough at talking about being nonbinary, or I say something wrong, and people get mad at me on Twitter? Blerrrgh.” London took a break from folding clothes into their suitcase to hang their face in their hands.
“London.” Dahlia struggled to sit up. “Trust in Hoda. It’ll be fine, okay? Remember, you’ll get to promote the nonprofit. You’ll be amazing. But . . . maybe promise me you won’t look at Twitter for at least an hour after it airs?”
“Promise.”
London unplugged their phone charger from the wall, sighing.
“I can’t wait to watch it.” Dahlia smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I actually watched the Today show. Me and Max are going to have the best time, relaxing in our PJs and gossiping about how hot you are.”
London paused, carefully folded underwear in hand. “Max?”
“Oh, yeah, you know, the dog I’m going to get while you’re away. I’ve decided to name him Max.”
“I hate you,” London mumbled, searching around the room for their nice shoes.
Dahlia stretched her arms above her head and grinned before finally shifting the covers away.
“Stay in bed.” London frowned. “It’s still the crack of dawn.”
“Nah.” Dahlia pulled a ratty Belmont sweatshirt over her head. Being that it used to belong to London, it was huge on her. She supposed it still belonged to London. Technically. But it was her favorite. “I’m up now. Maybe I can finish my review for the Source of that new barbecue place after you leave. It’s always easier for me to write in the morning. And then I’ll have plenty of time later to finish editing my latest video and get it posted before I get ready for Hank.”