Save the Date

“No, I’m not.”

“But . . .” I just looked at him. Mike not staying at the house frankly sounded great to me, but I had a feeling my parents wouldn’t see it that way. “What’s Mom going to say?”

“Not being a psychic, I really have no idea.”

“Mike.”

“Can you just drive, Charlie? I’m already running late because you took an hour to come to the airport.”

Just like that, I was suddenly, instantly furious, in the way that only Mike was able to make me. “Well, maybe if you’d let anyone know you were coming, someone would have been there to meet you.”

“Oh, do I get a Charlie Grant lecture? Goody. It’s been way too long.”

“Listen—”

There was a knock on my window, and we both jumped. I turned and saw a police officer motioning for me to unroll the window. I did, immediately, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. “Hi,” I said as the officer—his name tag read RAMIREZ—leaned down to look into the car. He looked like he was in his midforties, in a dark-blue Stanwich Police uniform.

“You need to move your vehicle,” he said.

“Sure,” I said, nodding emphatically. “I’ll do that.”

“Why?” This was from Mike, who was leaning over the center console to talk to Officer Ramirez. “I mean, did we do something wrong?”

“You’re not residents, are you?” Mike and I both shook our heads. “Then you need to move. Security is increased when the governor is at his Stanwich residence, and we’re limiting all non-resident traffic.”

I looked toward the entrance of Stanwich Woods and saw that in addition to a black SUV, there were two white-and-black Stanwich Police cars on either side of the gatehouse. Alexander Walker, a Stanwich resident and our former congressman, had won the governorship in November, but I’d had no idea he lived here.

“We were just turning around,” I said. “We’ll leave now.”

“Drive safe,” Officer Ramirez said, tapping the top of the car once before walking away, already speaking into the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.

I pulled back out to the road and made sure to carefully come to a complete stop and to signal before merging into traffic, just in case the Stanwich Police were still watching me.

I turned onto Juniper Hill and followed the rest of the directions Mike gave me, barely paying attention to where I was going. It was like I could still feel the unfinished fight lingering around both of us in the car, making the silence somehow even more strained than it had been before.

“It’s better I’m not staying at home,” Mike finally said after telling me to just keep driving straight. He set his phone down in the cup holder and turned to look at me. “Seriously. I don’t want to make a whole scene, or upset Linnie. I just wanted to come for her wedding.” I took a breath to answer, but Mike pointed ahead. “It’s just up here on the right.”

I turned down the driveway, heart pounding as I suddenly realized, much too late, exactly where we were. The last time I’d been here it had been dark and rainy, but I still should have recognized it, so that I could have prepared myself.

Because we were at Jesse Foster’s house.

And Jesse Foster was standing in the driveway, right in front of me.

CHAPTER 6

Or, Heart Eyes for Days

* * *

IN GRANT CENTRAL STATION, WHENEVER Cassie Grant had a crush on someone—always more reciprocated than in my real life—she would float several inches off the ground, her toes trailing on the carpet or pavement, and cartoon hearts would appear in her eyes and hover around her head.

But as I stood there looking at Jesse, I felt the opposite, like I was being tethered to the earth, pulled down into it, so that the thought of moving—of doing something as simple as walking toward him—felt like an utterly impossible task.

I’d gotten out of the car when Mike had, but when he’d walked around the back to get his bags, I’d just stood there by the driver’s side door, frozen, my heart hammering so hard that I was certain Jesse, twenty feet away from me, could hear it.

The last time I’d seen him, it had been nearly in this same spot on the driveway, me in my car, Jesse outside it. Jesse standing in the rain, leaning in to kiss me through my open window, both of us laughing in between kisses, as he cupped his hand under my chin, pulling me close to him, and closer still.

“Okay, bye,” he’d said, even as he’d leaned in to kiss me again—a kiss we didn’t break away from for quite some time.

“You’re getting all wet,” I’d said as I’d reached up to brush some of the droplets from his hair.

“It’s just drizzling,” he’d said with a smile, as the sheets of rain poured down on my car and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. “I’ll let you go.” But he stroked my cheek with his thumb and pulled me nearer.

“Okay.” I’d stretched up to kiss him, still somehow amazed that I got to do this, that I got to kiss Jesse Foster in the rain.

“Okay,” he’d said a few minutes later.

“Bye.” I’d smiled against his mouth as we kept kissing, with a new intensity now.

“Bye.” He’d kissed me back.

“Bye.”

“Hi there.” I blinked, startled out of these memories, and forced myself to focus on Jesse—this Jesse, present-tense Jesse, the one who was smiling and walking over to me.

I reminded myself to breathe, that I knew how to do it, that I’d been doing it all my life. “Hi,” I finally managed, smoothing my hair back from my forehead, wishing I knew what to do with my hands.

I’d had a million conversations in my head with Jesse since that night over Christmas break. But now that he was here, it was like my entire brain had been wiped clean as I tried to think of something to say.

The Jesse in front of me looked pretty much the same—his hair was just a little longer now. He was wearing a dark-blue sweater with his jeans, and when he raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair, it rode up for just a moment, giving me a flash of his hip and stomach before it fell back down again.

“Charlie,” Jesse said, taking a step toward me. His words were light and friendly, but he was looking right at me and not letting his gaze drop. As I met his eyes, I could feel my pulse beating places I usually wasn’t aware of it—at the base of my throat, in my fingertips, thudding in my ears. “I didn’t know I’d be seeing you. It’s my lucky day.”

“I know,” I said, my voice coming out high and strangled. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I know.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug, trying to appear casual and breezy, like this was the way I’d talk to anyone and not just someone who had seen me naked. At the thought of that—and of all I’d seen of Jesse—my palms started to sweat, and I wiped them quickly on my jeans before sticking them in my back pockets. I glanced back at the car but couldn’t see Mike—he was presumably still getting his bags. Now that I was here, it was hitting me, a little too late, that I had no idea how to act in front of Jesse. Was I supposed to pretend that nothing had happened with us and things were the same as they’d always been?

“It’s good to see you,” Jesse said, taking another step closer. His tone was still easy and friendly—like if you read the transcript of our conversation, it would all seem aboveboard—but his eyes weren’t leaving mine, and there was an undercurrent to everything he was saying. He glanced down at what I was wearing and smiled wider. “Nice sweater.”

“Oh,” I said, tugging at the hem. “Right. I probably should have given it back.”

“Keep it,” he said, taking a step closer to me still. “It looks way better on you.”

I was getting flushed all over, like the sun had just started shining directly on me alone. “Thanks,” I said. “When did—”

“There he is!” Jesse smiled wide as Mike came around the side of the car, carrying his suitcase and garment bag and shooting me an irritated look.

“Thanks for the help,” he said as he and Jesse clasped hands and bumped shoulders.