“Me? What about you? You’re the one who didn’t want to see me after getting out of jail.”
“Because there was something I wanted to surprise you with, something I didn’t know until I got out and the police returned my phone. But I wanted to tell you properly, in person, after I’d showered off the not very romantic odor of prison from my body. So please check your phone.”
“If you want to see my reaction, then why didn’t you just—”
“Susannah, I love you, but you are the most frustrating woman in the world. For once in your life, don’t argue. Just do it.”
I opened my bag and pulled out my phone. I’d received several new texts, mostly from classmates wondering at my absence from happy hour the past few nights. There was one that particularly piqued my interest, however.
Jesse Me dieron la beca.
NOV 19 1:10PM
“I have no clue what that means,” I said.
He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you have that mental block that prevents otherwise intelligent people from learning new languages,” he suggested.
“No, because I can speak French. If this were in French—”
“It’s all right, querida. You’re good at many other things. And at least you have your looks.”
“I’m seriously going to kill you. Just tell me what it says. What’s the surprise?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He was enjoying himself. I could tell, since he was smiling as he walked around to the passenger side of the Land Rover. This was his way of getting me back for not telling him about Paul. “I will admit, in addition to picking up your sad excuse for a vehicle, I made a stop at your place. These were waiting outside the door for you. Saturday delivery? They must be important.” He pulled a couple of packages from the front seat.
“Seriously,” I said, staring at the text. “Is beca bacon? If you’re offering to take me out for breakfast, the answer is yes, even though it’s already lunchtime, because I had a really disappointing breakfast today.”
“Bacon is beicon,” he said. “Here, open your packages.”
“We should get out of here,” I said. “Kelly wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me, and neither was Debbie at first, though I think I won her over.”
I glanced at the packages—both addressed to Ms. Susannah Simon. One of them was a large next-day air priority box, the other a legal-sized padded envelope, stamped “Deliver by Hand”; return address, “Slater Properties.” It felt lumpy, as if there might be something small and jagged—such as keys—inside.
I looked up at Jesse in wonder. “No,” I said, hardly daring to believe it. “So soon?”
He shrugged again. “One of us must be very persuasive.”
“Or intimidating,” I said, tearing open the envelope.
Sure enough, there was a set of keys inside, attached to a plastic key fob marked “99 Pine Crest Road.” There were also a number of documents requesting my notarized signature. But one of them was a deed, with my name typed in as the owner.
Finally, there was an astonishingly brief note from Paul, scrawled in his execrable handwriting on Carmel Inn stationery.
Suze,
Here are the items you requested.
No matter how much you might hate me—or who you marry—I will always be here for you. You know how to reach me if you need to.
You’re a worthy adversary, Simon.
I suppose that’s why I always have, and always will, love you.
Paul
Jesse stood reading the note along with me over my shoulder. I’d seen no reason not to let him, since I’d had no idea it would contain anything like the sentiments it did.
As soon as I got to the last lines, I began to blush.
I reached out to crumple the note into a little ball, but Jesse stopped me, tugging it from my hand.
“No, why?” I asked, attempting to snatch it back. “He’s such a—” The words I used to describe Paul were ones I doubted Miss Boyd had ever uttered, much less heard of, even during her undoubtedly rough and memorable ride from Boston out west.
Jesse, shaking his head, tucked the note into the back pocket of his jeans.
“It’s good to hang on to things like this,” he said matter-of-factly. “You never know when they might come in handy later.”
“Oh, and you accused me of being possessed by the dark side?” I said. “And if this is the surprise, it wasn’t a very good one. I already knew he was sending this stuff over.”
“That wasn’t the surprise. You still aren’t thinking very hard. Shall we go?”
“Go where? Breakfast?”
“No. To inspect our new home.”
My heart leapt. I put my arms around his neck. “Our new home? Are you serious, Jesse? You really don’t mind living there?”