Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [99]
“Marcus?”
“No,” he answers. “I’m not flying anywhere tomorrow.”
“Then,” she ventures hesitantly, “why are you still here?”
The words are still fresh from her mouth as he offers himself as an answer, reaching across the bare, open, and empty space between them, collecting her hands in his. All these hours together spent talking, she has strenuously avoided touching him, smelling him, tasting him, afraid of how her body would respond. She flinches. He tightens his grip. He won’t let go that easily. He pulls her toward him.
“Birthday presents,” Marcus says, close enough that the top of her head is warmed by his every breath.
“What?”
“This bag is filled with birthday presents.”
Jessica points to herself in dumb disbelief. “For me?”
He nods. This is the difference between bittersweet reunion and restraining order, he thinks.
Words fail her. Her mouth glug-glug-glugs like that of a fish. How did you know it was my birthday? she wants to ask. When did you know?
“Last week,” he replies, answering her unasked question.
Last week, thinks Jessica. Of course he realized it last week. Marcus had never forgotten that January 19 was her birthday, just as she had never forgotten that July 19 was his, just as there would be parts of their shared past that they would never be able to forget. She slowly lifts her eyes to look up at Marcus. The tenderness in his unwavering gaze makes her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She giggles—the middle ground.
“You’re giggling,” Marcus says.
“I am.”
“And you’re chewing on your lip,” Marcus says.
“I am?”
“You are. Or were, until I called you on it.”
“I didn’t think I did that anymore.”
“Well,” Marcus says. “Apparently, you do.” He lifts their still-interlocked hands and gingerly brushes a knuckle against her lips. Jessica’s mouth parts, wanting more. Ten years earlier, Jessica had conjured a birthday celebration not unlike this, a sweet-sixteen variation on what she referred to in her journal as her “standard stuck-in-an-enclosed-space-and-the-trauma-bonds-us-sexually-and-otherwise daydream.” Despite her best efforts to act her age, Jessica is tempted to punch the open-door button between floors to fulfill this long-ago fantasy.
The elevator dings open on the twentieth floor. A middle-aged couple is taken aback.
“Oh!” exclaims the woman.
“Erg,” grumbles the man.
Jessica and Marcus, standing inches apart, separated only by a quartet of clumsily clutched hands. Jessica and Marcus, alone together in that elevator, are a far more intimate sight than any less innocent act could be. This anonymous middle-aged husband and wife are embarrassed to have found themselves as accidental interlopers.
“Sorry,” calls out the wife as Jessica and Marcus silently push past them and head for their room.
eighteen
As instructed, Jessica is waiting on Marcus’s bed. He has turned off all the lights and is now walking toward her with two Hostess cupcakes balanced in one hand and a cell phone in the other.
“Happy birthday to you,” he’s singing. “Happy birthday, dear Jessica … Happy birthday to you.”
He kneels down on the floor next to the bed and holds up the cell phone, on which she can see he has uploaded the photo of a lit candle. “Er, I couldn’t buy any candles, so this will have to do.” He hands over one cupcake and keeps the other for himself.
Jessica shyly shrugs an okay.
“So close your eyes and make a wish on the count of three.”
Jessica does as she’s told.
“One …”
I wish …
“Two …”
… our love was right now and …
“Three!
Jessica opens her lids, and Marcus snaps the cell phone shut. He’s right beside her in the darkness, but it isn’t close enough. She reaches out to take Marcus’s hand, to pull his body on top of hers on the bed. She grasps empty air instead of his warm skin. He has already gotten up off the floor and is halfway across the room to switch the lights back on.
Jessica is relieved and