“There wasn't ever an us,” Tate pointed out. Jameson shrugged.

“Whatever we were. Friends,” he suggested. She laughed.

“We were never friends,” she replied.

“We were something.”

“We were nothing.”

“Why do you need everything to be so clearly defined? Because society says A plus B equals C, then we're nothing? Sometimes X divided by 4.3 equals fuck all, Tate. Bad things happened, but there were moments of good,” Jameson reminded her. He needed her to remember. She snorted again and turned away so she was fully facing the water.

“I seem to have forgotten those moments. Probably when my oxygen supply was cut off, right after my seizures,” she snapped at him.

“That's not funny.”

“No, not even a little bit,” Tate agreed. He took a deep breath. Dug down deep in to his heart to find a shred of kindness. Of honesty.

“I'm very sorry for ever hurting you,” he said in a soft voice. It was obvious she was struggling not to cry.

“Someday,” she started, clearing her throat, “you will find someone who is better at these games. Better than you, and you will finally know how it feels.”

“How will I find this someone else if I'm not looking?” Jameson asked.

“Maybe you should start looking. You're not getting any younger,” she pointed out.

“I have the person I want,” he said bluntly. She choked on a gasp of air.

“You don't have shit,” Tate managed to cough out. He laughed.

“You're so easy to rile up now. This should be fun,” he said. She shook her head.

“I don't want to play your games,” she insisted. He leaned against the table, crossed his arms on top of it.

Finally, we can cut to the chase.

“How about just one last game. No-holds-barred, winner takes all,” he offered.

“How about that's a really bad idea,” she replied, but he could tell that she was intrigued.

“Give me a month,” Jameson started. Her eyebrows raised above her glasses and she turned towards him.

“A month to what?” she asked.

“One month to convince you that I'm not the devil,” he stated. Tate burst out laughing.

“A leopard can't change his spots, Jameson. But go head, explain your little game. I could use some cheering up,” she snickered.

“One month to convince you that I'm not the devil, that things can be as good between us as they ever were,” he continued.

“Hmmm. Not very appetizing, I'm not really winning on this deal,” Tate pointed out, still smiling to herself.

Jameson got up from his chair. Slowly walked around the table. She stiffened up when he got next to her, but she didn't move away when he leaned down close to her head. Pressed a hand to the side of her face to bring her in close to his lips.

“One month to make you forget your ballplayer even exists,” he whispered against her ear. Oh yes, he knew all about the ballplayer. Jameson had an online subscription to The Boston Globe.

But he could feel something. Her body was connected to his, in some inexplicable way. It always had been, ever since their very first time together. She didn't move at all, but he could feel her skin come to life. Like it was vibrating, humming with energy.

“It's cute that you even think that's possible,” Tate whispered back, but he was already grinning. He knew she was bluffing. He let go of her and stood upright.

“One month, Tatum. Here, with me and Sanders.”

“Ooohhh, I get Sanders in the deal, too?”

“Looked to me like you already had him.”

“Jealous?”

“Don't be stupid.”

“But what do I get out of this?” she pressed him. Jameson sighed.

“If after one month, you still don't want anything to do with me, you have my promise that I'll leave you alone. No showing up at your home, or your job, or talking to your friends. Any of that bullshit. I'll even do split custody with Sanders. I'll let you go. Once and for all. We let this go, whatever this is,” he told her, gesturing between them.

Tate was silent for a long time. If it hadn't been for the stern set of her mouth, he almost would've thought she'd fallen asleep. But after a long time, she opened her mouth. Closed it. Thought for a second longer. Opened it again.

“You have to know, you won't win,” Tate warned him.

Looks like I already have.

“Won't know for sure until I've tried. But you have to be honest with me, you can't fake anything or lie. You have to let me do whatever I want,” Jameson amended the deal.

“I was always honest with you, and you should never be allowed to do whatever you want,” she replied. He laughed.

“Fair enough. Do we have a deal? One whole month, starting today?” he asked.

“You won't win,” she warned him again, but she held out her hand. He took it in his own.

“Baby girl, I never lose.”

Inside her brain, Tate was freaking out. She wasn't sure what she'd gotten herself into – an all expenses paid, luxurious vacation in the South of Spain? Check. Psychotherapy under the guise of hitting your best friend? Check. A deal with the devil that could potentially mean losing her soul? Double Check.

The end result was too tantalizing to turn down, though. It would be over. No more wondering, or worrying, or what ifs. Just over. Dead. No more Jameson and Tate, whatever they even were, anyway.