“Just thinking,” I lied.
“What about?”
“How today was such a huge day for both of us. So much has happened so fast, it’s just a lot to take in.” That was true. I was glad to see that he smiled, looking relieved at my confession.
“We’re good together, Bren.” He looked into my eyes. “I think it’s just going to get better.”
“It will,” I said with so much authority I even convinced myself it couldn’t possibly be another lie.
Epilogue
I woke up the morning of October 11th way earlier than I should have. Mostly because Jake was stretched across my bed, his leg draped over my mine heavily. I ran my fingers through his hair, newly cut in preparation for my birthday celebration. Thorsten was taking us all into the city for lunch at a famous Chinese restaurant, and then we were going to the Met, since Mom and I had been dying to go since we got back to the states and Jake had never been. Jake had parked down the road and snuck in to sleep with me, just as a treat, just for my birthday. He had to leave so he could get home and get ready to drive back before my parents came in to wake me.
“Wake up, Jake,” I whispered.
He cracked one eye open. “Hey, pretty girl.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me all over my face and neck.
“You’ve got to go. It’s dawn.”
“Happy birthday,” he stalled.
“Thanks.” I put my hand over his face, spread my fingers and looked at his features from behind the bars I created. He kissed my palm and fingers, then leaned over the bed and grabbed his pants.
“Good.” Even though it wasn’t really good, part of me felt relieved. He had to leave before he got caught. “No more fooling around…”
He came back up with a tiny wrapped box. Even the paper was great, bright pink with tiny gold stars all over it. There was a miniature gold bow on the top.
“Jake! You didn’t have to.”
“Just open it.” He kissed the tip of my nose.
I ripped the paper away and took the lid off of the box. I removed the cotton batting and sitting there was a sliver cursive “B” pendant on a black ribbon with three teardrop pearls hanging off of it.
“Remember that book about Ann Boleyn we read? Well, you read and I listened to?” he asked eagerly. “This is the necklace she had in the movie.”
“You got me an Ann Boleyn necklace?” I asked, not exactly sure how I felt about it. “She, uh, got her head chopped off, Jake.”
“Yeah, I know. But she was badass and smart and sexy, so I thought we could just forget the whole beheading and focus on the good stuff. And your first and last name start with ‘B.’”
Just the fact that he had put that much thought into it made it awesome even if I would think about being beheaded every time I wore it. “Thank you, Jake.” I wrapped my arms around him. “It’s so beautiful and literary and historically feminist. I love it!”
He picked up the ribbon and tied it around my neck. I got out of bed and looked at it in the mirror in my room and instantly loved it. Maybe I would think about going after what I wanted and being kick ass when I wore it instead of beheadings after all.
“I’m glad you like it.” He grinned. “I’m sorry, baby, but I have to leave now.”
He pulled his jeans up and his boots on, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head and threw on his jacket.
“I can’t wait for today. Don’t be nervous.” I grabbed him around the hips.
“I’ll wear my button down,” he promised.
“I love you.” I kissed him hard. “I love you, love you.”
He laughed. “I love you, Bren. I’ll be back in four hours.”
He jumped out the window and went running. I stuck my head out and watched him. I was about to snuggle back into my warm, if empty, bed, when I saw a package wrapped in brown paper on the window sill. I smiled. Jake must have left something else.
I pulled the package in and unwrapped it. It was a hardcover copy of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. I read Pride and Prejudice after Lord of the Flies and fell head over heels for Austen, but hadn‘t had a chance to read Sense and Sensibility yet. I flipped it open, but the inscription was in a precise, neat script that wasn’t Jake’s. I knew exactly whose it was.
Blix,
It’s the great underestimated Austen. I like it because the people who should end up together do, romance be damned. Willoughby’s a douche bag, but he truly loves Marianne right to the bottom of his sucky black soul. Doesn’t matter. Austen knows that you end up with the person who makes sense, not the asshole.
Stick to Austen’s plan.
Happy birthday.
Love,
Saxon
My heart pumped and my head spun. I had to double clutch, two breaths in, one out, two in, one out. Without really thinking about it, I sat on the bed and opened the book. I was reading when Mom and Thorsten burst in, hours later, to wish me a happy birthday.
“Brenna!” Mom rushed to the bed. “Why are you crying sweetheart?”
“Just a book,” I sobbed.
Mom tilted her head and looked at the cover. “Sense and Sensibility? Honey, it’s a romance. I don’t remember anything sad in the book.”
“I’m not done yet.” I wiped my tears away, embarrassed now. “Mom, why doesn’t Willoughby end up with Marianne?”
“It will ruin the book, honey.” Mom stared at me with wide eyes.
“Please.” I grabbed her arm.
She sat on the bed and swept my hair back off of my neck, kissing me softly, and recited the information I asked for. “He makes her believe he has serious intentions for her, then gets forced to chose to be poor with her or marry a woman he doesn’t love for money. He marries the one he doesn’t love.”
“So he was just a huge jerk?” I said, calming down.
“Yes.” Mom tilts her head and considers her answer. “But he did honestly love Marianne, he just chose the person who was right for him realistically and let her marry the person who was right for her. He realized that being in love wasn’t all there was. There were realities in life.” Mom sighed. “I wrote a great paper my junior year about that book.” She looked dreamy.
“I’m sorry I was so weird.” I rubbed my eyes and gave them a watery smile.
“That’s okay, baby. When you’re ready, Thorsten is making his famous waffles.” She kissed my forehead and left. I heard her talking about “…Brenna’s emotions when she has her period…” as she walked down the hall with Fa.