Page 77 of Jesse

I still smell like Jesse’s day and that thought evokes an automatic smile. When I turn my phone on the home screen states I have nine missed messages. Eight texts from Mila and the girls, and one, a voicemail, that’s from Mr. Bossy Brother himself.

I press play:

“Hey. This is Jesse Boston. You know, that guy you drugged and kidnapped because I was a dumbass drug addict back when we first met thirteen years ago and I didn’t have the good sense to call you and explain why I had to be a douchebag and bail out so quick? Yeah. Me. Hard to forget, easy to miss when I’m gone. Oh, no, wait. That’s you.”

Holy shit. Drifty, flighty, light-headed butterflies in my stomach.

“I hope you got some sleep. I did. Couple hours, at least. I’m taking this no-pick-up as a sign that you enjoyed yours more than I did, but you could also be ignoring me. I’d say there’s a sixty-forty chance that you’re ignoring me. But I’ll take those odds. You might also be asking yourself, Hey, did I ever give this asshole my number? The answer is no. I called myself from your phone while you weren’t looking. Always one step ahead. Really, almost never one step ahead, if I’m being honest. But. I give it a go every once in a while. So… wanna know what I dreamed about?”

Oh, man. I just fell all over again. So hard.

“We swam with the dolphins but then we turned into mer-people.”

I laugh.

“And Johnny and Alonzo were like… warring mer-kings? Or some shit. I’m not totally clear on the mer-people political hierarchy, but Joey and your middle bro, Tony, traded sides, I guess? So Tony was working for Johnny and Joey was working for Alonzo. And then Johnny threw this sissy-girl fit about family loyalty and then your mom called everyone to Saturday-night dinner and made us leave our spearguns and tridents at the door. And then the dog said—I didn’t see a dog at your dive shop, so I don’t know where he came from—but he said, ‘No dogs allowed,’ when the dolphins tried to join us.”

I can’t stop laughing.

“It was a pretty cool dream. I think it means I miss the beach. And sailing. And I had fun yesterday. And you totally won our little bossy game. Which is now over, by the way. And I might want to marry you and your crazy family because how many families could keep up with the Bostons, ya know? Not many. And… yeah. It all makes so much sense in that context.” He takes a deep breath and says, “So. Don’t bail on me, Emma. Don’t pull a Jesse. Call me when you get this. I would like to take you out on a date tonight. I’ll even let you drive.”

I want to listen to it all again. Maybe even memorize every word, but I want to call him back more.

“Ms. Dumas,” he says, picking up my call. “Did you have an excellent rest?”

“I did,” I say. “And I listened to your message.”

“Shit, what did I say? I can’t remember.”

“Seriously?” I huff.

“No. I wrote it down and recited it word for word before I called.”

I laugh but I can’t tell if he’s kidding.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “I winged it. Was it OK?”

“It was… pretty damn adorable, actually.”

“Pretty. Damn. Adorable. I’ll take it. So would you like to date me tonight?”

“As opposed to tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night we could be married.”

“Oh, man. You’re a funny guy.”

“I’m a fucking joy. But really. Can I pick you up? Or,” he says, “you can pick me up. How ‘bout that?” I swear, I can hear his eyebrows waggling at me.

“Your innuendo is showing.” I giggle.

“I try,” he says. “I do my best.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up. Should I… I don’t know, buzz your butler when I arrive? Or how does one pick up a Boston Brother from that monstrous building you live in?”

“His name is Zach and he’s my cousin, remember? He’ll meet you downstairs and bring you up. That way I can maintain my image as mystery man, you know?”

“Sure,” I say. “I get it. One must not give up on their mysterious persona too quickly.”