Chapter Text
When Amelia Santiago was born, her parents were proud. They looked upon their daughter’s face with pride, years of worry melting away.
“Finally, a girl,” her mother mused.
“Would you like to see her quote, love?” her father asked.
In this universe, the first words soulmates said to each other were marked upon one’s arm. The Santiagos themselves were not soulmates, but they firmly believed love existed outside of soulmates.
Tiny Amelia ‘Amy’ Santiago was awake now, her brown eyes bright with life. Her mother unfurled the blanket to read the printed text on her little arm.
Victor Santiago clapped a hand to his forehead, laughing in the relative quiet of their crowded home.
“Dear, it reads ‘do you want a donut?’"
“The poor girl,” her mother responded, shaking her head and giggling. “Well, maybe her soulmate works at the police department!”
When Jacob Peralta was born, his father wasn’t at the hospital. His mother was beaming, makeup messy on her sweaty face, but she was cradling Jake in her arms. The nurses and doctor tried comforting Karen, but she simply waited for Roger while smiling at her son.
“Would you like to read the quote on his arm, ma’am?” The OB-GYN was named Frederick; though he was a bit gruff, he was clearly a kind and talented worker. He was good friends with the nurse, Dave, as Karen noticed.
“Yes, please. Thank you so much,” Karen answered. She was admittedly exhausted, having been in labor without her husband at her side, but one glance at Jacob’s face told her he was worth the world.
“No thank you, one’s enough.”
“Excuse me?” Karen asked, surprised. Was she that tired?
“That’s what it says on your son’s arm, Mrs. Peralta,” Frederick answered. “No thank you, one’s enough."
“Let’s hope that’s not sexual,” Karen said. Roger arrived amidst the laughter, confused, and no one let him in on the joke.
When Amy Santiago was seven, she was the joke of her school. Everyone knew her as the ‘donut girl.’ Her best friend Kylie was a little cooler, with ‘good to finally meet you’ written on her arm. Her brothers all had various, interesting quotes on their skin. Only Amy was stuck with a mundane tattoo.
She learned to work harder, learn faster, memorize better. People like her couldn’t afford to get left behind. Seven older brothers and a weird quote on her arm never made life easier. Her father taught her to organize binders and use flash cards until she knew words like the back of her hand.
Institution, i-n-s-t-i-t-u-t-i-o-n, institution, she repeated in her head. Say it, spell it, say it.
Dad would take the whole family out for donuts when Amy got an A+ on a spelling test, joking she might meet her soulmate when they arrived.
Secretly, Amy didn’t really want to meet her soulmate. She was seven years old, with goals to achieve and plans to make. Amy wanted to skip a grade and get perfect attendance and decorate her room with her teacher’s gift of sparkly star decals. Love (and donuts, she thought, groaning) could wait.
When Jake Peralta was seven, he was on top of the world. His mom was his art teacher at school, and his dad was the local baseball coach. After school, Jake could come to the art room and practice with watercolors. He wasn’t too good, he knew, but Mom still put his pictures on the refrigerator. Meanwhile, Mom sat at the front of the room and put smiley-face stickers on the backs of finger paintings. Sometimes, Jake got to help.
Every Tuesday and Thursday night, Dad would drive Jake out to the baseball field for practice. This year, he was shortstop. All his teammates were jealous, especially Jenny Gildenhorn. Jake was kind of close with her, except they’d already started talking and she never once said ‘no thank you, one’s enough.'
After games on Saturdays, Dad would take the whole team out to Sal’s for pizza. Jake loved Sal’s. It was an institution, he argued, even if he didn’t know the definition of institution. At least he knew how to spell it, after Mom helped him go through the spelling list from school.
One Thursday, Jake took the bus home from school. Mom said he couldn’t go to the art room after school today. Maybe it was a surprise, he thought. Jake talked with Jenny until the school bus reached his house.
“It’s Dad,” Mom murmured, as soon as Jake reached the door. She was waiting outdoors, crossing her arms nervously and kneeling down to hug Jake. “He left us.”
The house looked strange. New. Emptier. The closet in Jake’s parents’ room was only half-full now. No more plaid shirts, no more leather jackets, no more pilot’s hat. Jake’s dad called a moving truck and arranged to have all his stuff taken. The desk in the study was missing, along with most of his dad’s books. There was an old copy of “The Squad” left behind, but there couldn’t have been more than fifteen books in the faded shelf.
“What about baseball?” Jake asked. He couldn’t wrap his head around all of this.
“Jake, love, you can miss practice tonight.”
“But Mom!”
“Jake, there’s no coach. I’ll call Gina’s parents and see what they can do.”
“But they’re divorced!” Jake’s eyes widened. “Are you and Dad getting divorced, too?”
“I don’t know,” Mom replied. “Just go do your homework.”
“Fine, Mom.”
After Jake went to his room, Karen sat at the edge of the bed, crying. At least Roger left it behind, she begrudgingly thought. Then she looked up ‘Brooklyn job offers’ and called in for a few minimum-wage-job interviews.
Karen’s mother, Jake’s Nana, eventually came to stay with them. She called Jake ‘Pineapples’ and made better food than mayo-nut spoonsies. He still missed Sal’s.
Sometimes, when Mom and Nana had gone to sleep, Jake would grab a flashlight from his desk drawer. He would shine the light over his arm, reading and wondering.
No thank you, one’s enough.
Why did his soulmate have to be so vague? One what?
Maybe Jake would just never find his soulmate.
Amy Santiago was seventeen years old, graduating from high school, the salutatorian of her class.
She did skip a grade: fourth grade, to be specific. She got perfect attendance, even if it meant dragging herself to school with the flu. And, yes, she put up the sparkly star decals in her room. Her brothers ripped them off after a couple months, but Mom bought more.
Last but not least, she hadn’t found her soulmate. That could wait. Amy Santiago still had a life to live.
“And now, a speech from our salutatorian, Miss Amelia Santiago.”
Taking a deep breath, Amy stood up and adjusted her cap. Wearing a thick, navy blue graduation gown, she began her speech. She practiced it for weeks on end, reciting it until her family grew sick of the opening lines and her brothers would mouth along with her.
It was finally here.
Jake Peralta was eighteen, working a part-time job at the local grocery store, and he was sick of high school. At least he was leaving. He sat through the speeches, suffered through the marching band’s rendition of the alma mater, and walked down the stage when his name was called.
His father sent a postcard, claiming he had an international flight (yeah, right, Quebec to Albany) and couldn’t make it. Jake’s mother and grandmother, along with Gina’s parents, were in the audience.
Gina brought her own party poppers, a cloud of confetti shrouding her as she passed, and gave a couple to Jake. He pulled the string and continued walking, leaving confetti all over the floor.
“Congratulations, sir,” the school principal said, handing Jake a diploma.
“Don’t mention it.”
He wasn’t supposed to reply, was he?
Amy Santiago was on the phone, messily running her fingers through her hair.
She was twenty-something by now, having graduated college with a bachelor’s in art history. Truthfully speaking, as much as she liked art history, it couldn’t compare to police work. After the six-month academy program, beat cop Amy Santiago spent a few years in the NYPD before taking a detective’s exam and easily passing.
Now, Captain McGintley of the 99th precinct was calling, asking Amy to interview for a detective’s position. Apparently he’d heard of her father and grandfather, both policemen themselves, and wanted her to come in for a preliminary interview.
“Well, whaddya say, Santiago? Ready to follow in your family’s footsteps?”
“Yes, sir. When may I interview, Captain McGintley?” Amy responded, careful to use ‘may’ instead of ‘can.’ She’d seen too many students fall into that trap.
“Right away, ma’am. How about next Monday at 9 AM?”
“Will do. See you then!”
With that, Captain McGintley hung up. Amy let out a relieved sigh and headed to her bookshelf. Grabbing a navy blue binder, to represent the colors of New York’s Finest, Amy set about to prepare for her interview. She put in a resume, recommendation letters, arrest records, and the occasional photo.
She was ready.
Jake Peralta was in his late twenties, working in the 99th precinct alongside his partner and best friend Charles. This morning, he’d tried to bring the Nine-Nine a surprise. After accidentally ordering twelve dozen glazed donuts, instead of one dozen, Jake was frantic to give them away.
Typical cop move, FDNY Chief Boone scoffed, on Jake’s way to work.
There were dozens of donuts sitting in the backseat of Jake’s Mustang, and he was anxious to give them away somehow. Sergeant Jeffords refused because of the calories. Rosa and Charles only took one apiece. Gina was late. Hitchcock and Scully split one between themselves, saying they stayed up all night at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Great.
Amy Santiago marched into Captain McGintley’s office and shut the door. Her hair was up, her breathing was steady, and she was prepared to interview.
“Dude, who is that?” Jake asked, frowning and pointing.
Charles shrugged and said, “You know McGintley’s been interviewing cops lately.”
The blinds were open, and Jake could see someone in a navy blue pantsuit holding a binder to her chest.
“Quick, look away,” Jake hissed, and Charles followed. The interviewee was looking out the window with a hopeful grin on her face.
“Does she look familiar?” Charles wondered.
“Wouldn’t know,” Jake replied, nonchalant. “Turn away again,” he mouthed. The door to McGintley’s office cracked open, and the girl stepped out.
“Very impressive, Miss Santiago,” the Captain said. “You’re hired.”
Amy grinned and breathed a sigh of relief.
Ever friendly, Charles blurted, “Nice to meet you! I’m Charles Boyle, this is my friend Jake Peralta. We’re detectives, so it looks like we’ll be working together!”
“Do you want a donut?” Jake interrupted. He was crossing his fingers, in hopes this girl somehow loved donuts. After all, she was a detective.
Amy shook her head, smiling a little.
“No thank you, one’s enough. I had a donut with Captain McGintley in his office,” Amy replied, trying to be earnest. “Nice to meet you too! Charles, Jake, I’ll be leaving now. I start next week.”
Amy Santiago realized she met her soulmate after calling her mother.
“Did you meet anyone, Amy?”
“Uh, yes. The captain … Captain McGintley. He seems nice, but I’ve also heard he’s rather laid-back,” Amy responded.
“That’s all?”
“Oh, I met two detectives, too. Charles Boyle and … Jake Peralta. Charles was friendly. Jake just offered me a donut and looked sad when I declined. Captain McGintley already gave me one after the interview.”
“You seem pretty calm, Amelia.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Amy asked, her voice slower and more nervous. “I got the job.”
“Have you not noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“Jake offered you a donut.”
“And?” Amy replied, unsure.
“You think he’s your soulmate?”
Amy cursed, apologized, and said goodbye to her mother.
“Jake! Jake!”
“Charles, it is nine in the morning on a Tuesday and we’re out of coffee. Unless you met the love of your life, please shush.”
“No! Listen! I think I really met her,”
“Uh-huh,” Jake said, nodding, half-asleep.
“Her name’s Genevieve,” Charles said. “And ...”
“And?”
“She could have been the one,” Charles finished, as Jake joined in without any emotion in his voice.
“Please, not again.” Jake pleaded. “You think, just because your soulmate quote is ‘excuse me’, everybody you meet could be your soulmate.”
“It’s not my fault the universe wants me to die alone,” Charles replied.
“Look,” Jake answered. “Fate can be cruel. My quote is ‘no thank you, one’s enough’, but you don’t see me waltzing around, thinking I could fall in love with anyone.”
“That’s your quote?”
“Yes, Charles, I just said that.”
“You mean the exact same thing Detective Santiago said, yesterday morning, when she came in for an interview?”
Jake was speechless.
“I swear, Charles, you have to be kidding me.”
“I thought you’d be happy that I found your soulmate! She’s going to work here in a week,” said Charles.
“No, no, please be a different Santiago...”
“What’s your problem, Peralta?”
“Two things. First of all, 'what's your problem, Peralta?' is a really cool thing to say. Second of all, a Santiago cannot be my soulmate. Heard of Detective Victor Santiago? Descended from a long line of policemen? Eight children? Six sons on the force?.”
“Maybe you could offer them some of your twelve dozen donuts,” Charles responded, smirking.
“If I date Amy, it’ll be like having a huge police family.”
“Again, not seeing the problem.” Charles answered.
“Charles, people like me weren’t meant to have families.”
Jake sunk his head into his hands, groaning.
“Isn’t the Nine-Nine your family?”
“No, not really. I mean, we have no civilian administrator, McGintley barely does anything, and I have no idea what’s going on with Sarge or any of the detectives,” Jake admitted. “Aside from you, I don’t know anyone on the squad. I just show up and do my job.”
“What about your family family? You know, your mom and the Linettis.”
“I mean, I love my mom. I can’t thank her enough for raising me. But life isn’t easy on single mothers. She was always working, so I barely saw her. So it was just Nana or Gina’s mom with me, and then Nana was getting older and Mrs. Linetti was going through her divorce.”
Charles just nodded quietly.
“Who knows?” Jake wondered. “Maybe it’s a fluke. Santiago’s not my soulmate, and I can go back to my life.”
Charles couldn’t help but add in, “Santiago said your quote. To your face. You found her, after carrying those words around on your arm for years.”
“Lots of people say no thank you, one’s enough,” Jake protested.
“Look, I get it. Your quote’s kind of vague,” Charles conceded. “And you don’t want a family. It’s all that instability and worry, hanging over your head. But just take a look at me! My quote is ‘excuse me.’ That hasn’t stopped me from going Full Boyle, from still searching and hoping.”
“So what do I do about Santiago?”
“Whatever happens, happens. Just get to know her naturally. What was the first thing you said to her, anyway?”
Jake laughed.
“I, uh, asked her if she wanted a donut. Remember I ordered too many?”
“Okay, okay,” Charles answered. “If Santiago’s quote is about donuts, she’s probably noticed by now. Just let time take its toll.”
“Alright, good advice. I’ll wait it out. Between Santiago and I, it’ll be light and breezy.”
“Santiago and me.”
“What?” Jake asked, turning to look at Boyle.
“Between Santiago and me. It’s proper grammar.”
“Fine,” Jake grumbled. “Let’s just hope Santiago isn’t a stickler for grammar. She probably isn’t, anyway, if we’re soulmates.”
“Dad! I got the job at the Ninety-Ninth precinct!”
“Amy, love, we call it the Nine-Nine.”
Cringing, Amy ran her fingers through her hair. One sentence into a phone call with her dad, and she already made a mistake.
“Okay, dad. I got hired at the Nine-Nine!”
“Congratulations, dear. I knew you could.”
Alright, this was much better.
“And what’s this I hear about meeting your soulmate?”
Here we go again, Amy thought. Four of her seven brothers had already texted, asking who the lucky guy was.
“Yeah, dad, I met him. His name is Detective Jake Peralta.”
“Detective, hm?”
Amy could practically hear the smirk in her father’s voice. He’d long joked Amy’s soulmate was a cop.
“Yes, dad. He’s a detective. You were right.”
“I’m so glad you two finally met,” Victor Santiago said. “Your brothers collectively owe me five hundred bucks!”
They were betting on her soulmate?
“Anyway,” Dad continued. “Did you talk for long?”
“No,” Amy replied. “I’d just finished my interview, so I walked out of the office and Jake offered me a donut. He was surrounded by boxes of them.”
“Seems he was waiting to meet you.”
“I wouldn’t know, Dad,” Amy confessed. “Captain McGintley gave me a donut in his office, so I said no to Jake.”
“You said no?”
Amy would bet another five hundred dollars that her father was now frowning.
“Well, I didn’t realize he was my soulmate right then and there,” Amy said, defending herself. “I called Mom after I got the job, and she helped me notice.”
“How many times a day do people offer you donuts?” Dad asked.
“ Dad! I got the job, I’m seeing him again next Monday.”
“Sorry, I’m just excited. You know you’re the first of the Santiago kids to meet their soulmate, right?”
“I am?”
Her father couldn’t see, but Amy was dancing around her apartment.
“Yes, you are. Anyway, I have to go now. It’s dinnertime. Good luck on Monday with Jake! I hope I meet him sometime,” her father finished.
“Bye, Dad! Love you!”
“Love you too, Amy.”
“Wait, she doesn’t know you two are soulmates?” Karen Peralta asked, crossing her arms.
“Mom, I guess she knows, but I’ve known her for years. I don’t want to bring it up and make everything uncomfortable,” Jake said defensively. “Besides, we’re total opposites! She’s all put-together and grandmother-y.”
To make his point more clear, he walked toward the kitchen. His mother followed behind.
“You see that?” Jake fiercely pointed to a cupboard.
“Yes?” Mom replied. She raised an eyebrow unsurely. “That’s my cupboard. It just holds plates and saucers. Jake, you know I don’t have any fine china.”
“Amy Santiago is the kind of person who has a china cabinet,” Jake argued. “I’ve heard her bragging about it to Boyle. It’s just a box full of plates you never use! It’s useless! I can’t date someone who refuses to use stuff because it’s too pretty.”
“In her defense, china is rather nice. It’s, you know, floral,” Mom responded, shrugging. “Anyway, two people can be different and still fall in love.”
“She’s too different,” Jake went on. “She likes binders and pantsuits and reading the captain’s lips through his window blinds.”
“I thought you said Captain McGintley never spoke.”
“Mom! Keep up,” Jake insisted. “Amy’s worked at the Nine-Nine for several years. McGintley left. Now we have Captain Holt.”
“So you’ve known her for years,” Mom said. “How close are you two?”
“I mean, we’re good friends. We have this ongoing bet to see who gets more arrests in a year, and I just went over to her apartment for Thanksgiving,” Jake answered. “But still! I can’t imagine living with her. You should see her china cabinet, Mom. It’s flowery and there are doilies everywhere.”
“So, aside from the godforsaken china cabinet you can’t get over, you two are pretty similar.”
“We are?” Jake asked, tilting his head.
“Well, you two are detectives. You love your jobs, and you’re both competitive, because you have the bet. I get it, you’re not as organized or as formal as she may be, but isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah, Mom, you know how people have always praised me for being unorganized and, uh, un-formal.”
“Jake,” his mother said, grinning. “You balance each other out.”
“I guess,” he admitted.
“You know, you don’t have to bring up the soulmate thing. I doubt you two are in love. Just keep it light and breezy.”
“Why does everybody say that?” asked Jake.
“Who knows?”
Amy Santiago didn’t know what time it was, but she didn’t need to, either. She loved nighttime, when Brooklyn became black-and-white, illuminated by the easy glow of streetlights and traffic. Jake sat not far from her, wearing his leather jacket and comfortably holding a bag of peanuts.
Since Amy’s last birthday, Mom and Dad had bugged her about soulmates. All those ‘biological clock’ worries were creeping up inside her. Amy wanted children, her parents knew, but she didn’t know what direction her personal life was going in.
“You alright?” Jake softly asked.
“Yeah, just stressed,” Amy answered.
“Want to talk about it?”
“It’s tough,” Amy replied, smiling a little.
“That’s okay, most problems are.”
Since finding out Jake was (supposedly) the love of her life, Amy had doubted the possibility they could ever fall in love. Every time he said something like ‘noice’ or ‘smort’, Amy wanted to beg the universe for a new soulmate. Sure, Jake was a good cop, and he had nice plaid shirts and kind eyes, but he was in crushing debt. He had problems concentrating. He hardly slept. He jumped to too many conclusions, too quickly.
Yes, Amy liked Jake’s confidence: the bad jokes with which he ruined conversations, his unabashed adoration for the Die Hard franchise. People like Jake Peralta simply need to learn their lessons before adapting and improving. They took so much time, though, Amy grumbled.
Amy thought she might as well ask him about being soulmates. How many chances did she and Jake get to talk alone?
“You know how I’m competitive?” she asked, tightly crossing her fingers.
“No, wait. You’re competitive?”
“Shush,” she admonished. “Anyway, I’m the first in my family to find my soulmate. My parents betted on me and everything. I, um, think it’s you. Remember we met and you offered me a donut? Would you mind taking off your jacket so I could check?”
“We’re soulmates?”
Amy sensed falsehood in Jake’s voice.
“Please don’t tell me you knew all this time.”
“Charles told me the day after your interview,” Jake confessed, looking at the ground. “He noticed before I did.”
Burying her head in her hands, Amy couldn’t catch her breath, purely happy, alone together with Jake Peralta.
“I’ll show you my mark if you’ll do the same,” Jake promised, already starting to unzip his jacket.
“Peralta, you have a deal.”
They huddled together, outstretching their arms.
Jake started laughing. “Amy, I’m so sorry the first thing I said to you was do you want a donut? ”
“Tell that to my seven brothers,” she responded. “It’s our family inside joke now, since cops love donuts and all. At least I found my soulmate ― you ― before they did.”
“Cool,” Jake said. “Cool cool cool cool cool.”
“So, do you want to date?” Amy asked, trying to be casual.
“I mean, I just don’t think I’m in the right place to date you, y’know? We’re not ready to do anything romantic-stylez. Emphasis on the z.”
“Yeah, I completely understand. We’re not ready to be a couple or anything. We’ll just be light and breezy at work.”
Amy nodded after she finished talking, typing up a memo for herself.
January 14th, 2014. Detective Peralta is my soulmate.
There. Now, no Santiago could take her title as first-to-find-their-soulmate.
“Hey,” Jake interrupted. “You want to do more stakeouts together?”
“No thank you, one’s enough,” Amy joked.
“Nerd.”
“I’m just kidding. The truth is stakeouts aren’t always great, and sometimes they suck. But they suck a little less when I get to do them with you,” Amy replied, blushing.
“Thanks, Santiago.”
When Jake Peralta was in his thirties, he moved in with Amy Santiago. He brought his Die Hard poster, all the hoodies and plaid shirts Amy loved, and everything else from his old life.
(Except the grey towel. He was glad to give that up.)
Their first night officially living together, Jake and Amy played Monopoly until the early hours of the morning. Amy was wearing a sweatshirt, laying on the bed with her elbows poking into the mattress. Jake had long since rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
“Ha! Seven! Suck it, babe,” Jake rolled the dice and easily maneuvered his top hat around the ‘go to jail’ square. “I’m so glad I missed that spot. Whenever I go to jail, I never roll doubles or get a pass card. I’m just stuck there for, like, fifteen years.”
“Yeah, but you landed on my land! Pay up,” Amy said, smirking and holding her hand out.
Jake sighed, peeling a few paper dollars from his stack and handing them over. “Don’t boyfriends get discounts?”
“Nope.”
“Hey, how long have we been playing?” Jake asked.
“I’m not too sure. I’d guess like four, five hours,” Amy said, shrugging. Without a second thought, she shook the dice and continued the game.
“Ames, you rolled double sixes. You have to re-roll before moving on,” Jake explained.
“That’s not a rule!”
“Yes, it is. If you get a double, you have to roll again, and you go to jail if you get three doubles in a row.”
“Blasphemy,” Amy complained. “I’m looking it up right now.”
“Your phone’s dead. Use mine,” Jake offered.
“Thanks,” Amy said, before putting her thumb on the home button and going to Chrome.
Jake sat waiting, crossing his arms and smiling, until Amy glared and showed him the Monopoly™ official rules page.
“I hate you and your vast memory of board game rules,” she grumbled.
“Yeah, try playing any game with Gina,” Jake shot back. “She finds every loophole ever. Once, in Scrabble, she flipped over normal letters and pretended they were blank tiles. I couldn’t find an official definition for ‘blank tile’ so she got to use them.”
“Remind me never to play Scrabble with Gina.” Amy picked up the die, vigorously shaking them and letting them fall onto the board. “So that’s why you’ve memorized every board game rule.”
“Double threes, Ames. One more set of doubles and you go to jail,” Jake pointed out.
Amy picked up the die again, shaking them over her left shoulder and wishing for anything but doubles.
“Snake-eyes. Double ones. You’re under arrest, Santiago,” Jake said, grinning. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be usedㅡ”
“Shut it,” Amy groaned, marching her thimble figurine over to the jail square. “If I can get three consecutive doubles, I can probably roll doubles again … right?”
“That’s what everyone always says,” Jake responded. He rolled a five and a two, moving his top hat around the board. “Chance! My lucky day,”
Amy pulled the first card from the pile and read it aloud. “Go to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect your two hundred dollars.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, while Jake frowned and reluctantly joined her in the makeshift jail.
“Hey, Ames, as the official banker, I bet ten of the bank’s dollars that you get out first,” Jake wagered.
“Okay, ” Amy reasoned. “So, if I get out first, I get ten Monopoly bucks?”
“Yeah. And if I get out first, I get the money instead.”
“Sounds good to me. We’re basically taking money from the bank, at no risk to ourselves, right?”
Jake smiled, removing a ten from the bank. “C’mon, babe, the faster you roll, the faster you get out of jail,” he ushered.
Jake and Amy quickly alternated, dropping the die with disappointment and passing them along to the other.
“Why does this take so long?” Amy demanded. She rolled a one and a two, cursing a little. “I was so close!”
“Title of our sex tape,” Jake mumbled. He let go of the die one at a time, crossing his fingers as he did so. “Four and … two. Just my luck.”
Amy tilted her wrist, checking her watch. Her eyes widened as she realized how late it was. “Jake, it’s four in the morning.”
“You don’t want to stop, do you?” he inquired, making puppy eyes.
“No, not at all!” Amy responded, calming her boyfriend’s fears. “I just have to take out my contacts and brush my teeth.”
“And put in your retainer, moisturize, brush your hair, all that,” Jake replied earnestly. “You know how you get when you forget.”
Amy rolled her eyes and trudged toward the bathroom. “You coming?”
“I’ll just shower,” Jake answered. “And I’ll multi-task by brushing my teeth in there.”
When Jake arrived in the bathroom, Amy was sitting on the toilet and braiding her hair. “Is this stress-braiding?”
“No, babe,” she replied, turning toward him. “I read it online. If I braid my hair before bed, it’s easier to brush in the morning.”
“Got it.”
While Amy brushed her teeth, Jake undressed and got into the shower.
“Jake, you forgot a towel,” Amy yelled, her voice attempting to transcend the noise of the water.
“What?”
The water slowed until he was standing frigid in the shower, opening the curtain a crack to shout. Amy was nowhere to be seen.
“Ames, where’d you go?” he tried again.
After a whopping seventy-two seconds, Amy returned with a soft blue towel in hand. “I didn’t leave, you just forgot a towel. I was getting you one from the linen closet,”
“Linen closet,” Jake scoffed. “Pretentious much?”
“Sorry I have a room to store fabrics,” Amy retorted. “Remind me to show you my china cabinet. You’ll hate that.”
“How did you know aboutㅡ”
“Your mom called to congratulate us.”
Jake was now out of the shower, wearing the towel around his waist. “Hey, before I forget, do you want to get breakfast in a couple hours?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Amy nodded, looking in the mirror while spreading dollops of face cream on her cheeks. “Where do you want to go?”
Handing Amy her glasses, Jake asked, “Waffles?”
Amy took the frames from Jake, easily slipping them on. “No, I was thinking something more special for our first morning after moving in. How about donuts?”
“No thank you, one’s enough,” Jake said, doing a poor impression of Amy’s voice.
“Ha, ha.”