Pack Up the Moon

by Kristan Higgins

Besides, when you’re a widower, maybe Beyoncé will be free.” “I’d rather have one hour with you than a million days with Beyoncé.” “Oh, please. You’re lying. I’d take Beyoncé in a heartbeat.”

“Okay, Josh. Try to punch me in the face.” Josh flinched. “Excuse me?” “Punch me in the face.” “No, thank you,” Josh said, glancing at Sarah,

“Joshua. I’m your sensei. I gave you an order.” “I was not brought up to hit my elders.” “And you shouldn’t, unless they tell you to. Come on. Try to hit me.”

“I’m not going to punch her,” Josh said. “Sorry, Mrs. Tanaka.” “Sensei. Okay, try to choke me, then,” she said. “I really—”

“Think of what a hot widower you’ll make,” she whispered. And, because he was the best husband ever, because he could read her so completely, he said, “I think I might have a chance at Beyoncé.”