Hanna shut her eyes. She wasn’t so sure. Last night, she’d looked up all kinds of articles about people who’d miraculously survived tempestuous waters and tsunamis. The human drive to persevere was astonishing. Maybe Emily had decided, once she was out there, that she didn’t want to die after all!
Then her gaze drifted to the plushy chair in the corner of the room. The dress she’d worn to Emily’s funeral was lying there, as were her clutch and shoes and the program she’d grabbed on the way out. EMILY FIELDS, it read on the front, accompanied by several pictures of Emily through the years. There was one of Emily as a young girl, long before Hanna knew her, standing in a field of dandelions. There was another from when they’d just become friends in sixth grade—Emily at a swim competition, pulling on her goggles. Several others from junior high and high school, Emily always looking fresh and sweet and happy.
When Hanna shut her eyes, wrenching scenarios flashed in her mind. She thought of Emily’s bed, unslept in, its covers probably pulled tight, its pillows fluffed. She thought of all the things Emily would no longer touch, no longer use, no longer be part of. She picked up her phone and began to compose a text explaining how low she felt . . . until she realized. She’d addressed the text to Emily. Of course she had: Emily was always the one she could go to with raw, vulnerable feelings.
Her jaw wobbled. She sank to the bed and put her head between her legs. Mike’s hand pressed on her back. “Hey,” he said soothingly. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”
“We will?” Hanna sobbed, feeling the tears spill down her cheeks. “I just can’t believe this is my life. All of it.” She shook her head. “Emily’s gone, Spencer’s not speaking to me, and soon enough, I’m going to jail, Mike. Prison. I have nothing. No future, no friends, no life . . .”
“Hey.” Mike frowned and placed his hands on his hips. “You haven’t lost everything, Hanna. You still have me.”
Hanna wiped her eyes. “But how long are you honestly going to wait for me? I might be in prison for thirty years or more. I mean, you can’t go that long without sex.” She was trying to make a joke, but when she tried to smile, she just started crying harder.
“You’re worth the wait.” Mike’s fingers made slow circles on Hanna’s back.
“You say that now, but . . .”
Mike drew back. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that. I just . . .” Hanna stared blankly at the TV on the other side of the room. A beautiful Brazilian supermodel was sensuously drinking Diet Coke through a straw. “The world is full of girls, Mike,” she said softly. “And I wouldn’t want you to stop living because of me.”
He looked annoyed. “Don’t even say stuff like that. You want me to prove that I’ll wait for you?”
He shifted in front of her. When Hanna opened her eyes again, she realized he was down on one knee, staring into her eyes. “Marry me, Hanna Marin,” he said urgently. “Marry me today.”
“Ha,” Hanna said, reaching for a Kleenex and blotting her eyes.
Mike removed the yellow rubber lacrosse bracelet from his wrist and held it out to her. “I don’t have a ring, but take this,” he said. “I mean it. Let’s get married. Like, tomorrow.”
Hanna blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I am.”
She wiped her nose. “Like, with a ceremony and everything? And with a document, to make it legal? Can it be legal? Are we old enough?”
Mike frowned. “I think so. And yes, I want it to be totally legal. I want you, Hanna. And I want you to know that I’m always going to want you, no matter what.”
Hanna stared at the rubber bracelet in her hands. It had been awarded to him when he made varsity lacrosse. Once, in Jamaica, before their run-in with Tabitha, she and Mike got a couples’ massage. Hanna had commented on how he’d left the bracelet on even though the masseuses instructed them to remove all jewelry. Removing this would be like removing a part of myself, Mike had said, a totally serious look on his face.
She considered being with Mike for the rest of her life, and it didn’t take long for her to realize she liked the idea. She was touched, too, by the gesture. Mike knew full well what their fate might be. He knew the pitfalls of being with someone in prison—or at least she hoped he’d absorbed those parts in Orange Is the New Black and not just the lesbian scenes.
She looked up at him. “Can we have a real wedding?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“So I’d get to wear a dress? And throw a party?”
Mike smiled. “Is that a yes?”
Hanna licked her lips, suddenly feeling shy. “I think it is,” she whispered, and then threw her arms around him. “Yes, Mike Montgomery, even though it’s crazy, I’ll marry you.”
“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” Mike whispered back, and slid his lacrosse bracelet on her tiny wrist. Hanna shut her eyes and laughed. Wearing the bracelet felt better than any diamond ring on her finger. It was, literally, priceless.
12