“What?” Charlene asked. “Where?”
“On campus,” Lucy said. “Or maybe he’s not here anymore, but he came to see me the other night.”
“He came all the way to Philadelphia to be with you? That’s really…” Charlene seemed to be weighing her words. “Romantic.”
“I guess,” Lucy said.
“You don’t sound so thrilled.”
Lucy frowned. “His parents flew him in for a wedding. So it’s not that big a deal, really. He was in the neighborhood, so he just decided to swing by and say hi. Maybe he was bored and needed to kill some time.”
“Oh, Lucy,” Charlene said. “You really believe that?”
“I don’t know what I believe.” Lucy inspected her fingernails. “Besides, it doesn’t matter, anyway. He waited too long. I’m involved with somebody else now.” She fished in her pocket for her cell phone and showed Charlene a picture she’d taken of Shane at his friend’s loft. He was leaning back in a battered leather armchair, his button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, a knowing smile on his lips.
“He’s good-looking.” Charlene sounded begrudging.
“He’s wonderful,” Lucy told her, annoyed that Charlene was passing judgment on Shane now, too. “He’s so smart. But nice, too. And generous.”
“I believe you,” Charlene said.
“Jesse stopped answering my e-mails,” Lucy explained. “He basically disappeared off the face of the earth.” She pocketed her phone and jumped to her feet. “Anyway, I’m completely over him.”
“Oh.” Charlene got to her feet. “If you say so.”
“I do.” Lucy was almost out the door when something else occurred to her. “Charlene? About that photo? The one in Wanderlust?”
Charlene waited, head cocked.
“Could you give me a copy?”
Charlene’s mouth twitched. “I’ll send it right away.”
Lucy thanked her and started down the hall. She’d almost made it to the stairwell when she heard Charlene calling after her and the soft padding of bare feet on floor tiles. “Wait, Lucy. I have to say one thing.”
Lucy waited until Charlene caught up with her.
“You should think about what you really want,” Charlene said in a tone Lucy recognized. “Who you really want.”
Here she was again: the superior Charlene who knew better than Lucy about everything that mattered—exchange rates and transit systems and what guys were really thinking. Lucy felt herself bristle. “I already have,” she said. “I’ve given Jesse a lot of thought. More thought than he deserves.”
“He came to see you,” Charlene said. “He didn’t have to. That means something.”
“Does it?” Lucy asked.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Ask him what? If he still likes me? If I was more than just a fling?”
“For starters,” Charlene said.
“I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction.” Lucy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Besides, he doesn’t even have a phone. Plus, he changed his e-mail address without telling me the new one. That’s how much he cares about me. I couldn’t talk to him even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
Then she thanked Charlene for her advice and stomped down the stairs and out into the brisk night air.
XXIII
Determined to drive Jesse out of her head, the first thing Lucy did when she reached her dorm room was text Shane: Thinking of you.
Thinking of you, too, he texted back. So excited for our weekend in NYC.
Me, too, Lucy replied. Can’t wait! But the truth was that the thought of sharing a bed with Shane in just a little over a week, with Jesse still so fresh in her memory, made her uneasy, a feeling that only grew stronger as the week wore on. Whenever Lucy walked across campus, she kept imagining she might turn a corner and bump into Jesse. Early in the week, she took the long way to and from her classes, just to avoid Bradley Hall, where he was supposedly staying. On Wednesday, she decided she couldn’t avoid Bradley Hall forever, steeled herself, and marched past it on her way to class. When she didn’t bump into Jesse, she forced herself to pass Bradley Hall on her return trip to the dorm, and then twice more that day, all without incident. Maybe he’s gone, she thought. She knew she should feel relieved, but somehow she didn’t.
That night after rehearsal, with Britt still home in central Pennsylvania, the tiny dorm room seemed cavernous. Wishing she had her roommate to talk to, Lucy tried to find a halfway-decent romantic comedy to watch on her laptop—anything relatively light and frothy, as long as it wasn’t Roman Holiday. But nothing could hold her interest for long, so instead she lugged her carry-on suitcase out from the closet, spread it open across Britt’s bed, and willed herself to start packing for her big trip to New York City. We’ll go to the theater and bop around Greenwich Village, she told herself. It will be fun.
Rummaging through her closet, she found a little black dress, a cashmere sweater, her best jeans, and a pair of boots. So far, so good. But when she thought about the time she would be spending alone with Shane, in his cousin’s apartment, she faltered. Looking down at her drawer full of pajamas, she tried to decide which to pack—the baby-doll nightgown, which was pretty but too cold for fall? The plaid flannel pajamas that were warm enough but not exactly sexy? She tried to imagine how she would look to Shane, slipping out of the bathroom dressed in one or the other. But the face that popped into her mind wasn’t Shane’s.
Somehow, in Rome, she hadn’t given a single thought to pajamas. At the Albergo della Zingara, she’d slept beside Jesse wearing nothing—and it had felt perfectly natural. The memory returned, startlingly vivid—the midsummer heat, the breeze that blew across her skin, the slight sunburn on her shoulders, the brush of Jesse’s hair against her cheek, her back, her belly. His scent of fresh air, almonds, and crushed mint leaves.
Lucy sank to her bed and rested her head in her hands. What’s wrong with me? she wondered. I was perfectly fine until he showed up. Here. On my turf. Messing up everything.
After that, she abandoned packing. She took a hot shower, then climbed into bed with her laptop, watching When Harry Met Sally to get into the mood for New York. But Charlene’s words kept intruding: He came to see you. He didn’t have to. That means something.
What does it mean, though? Lucy couldn’t stop wondering. Midway through the movie she hit pause and started clicking instead through the pictures she’d taken of Jesse in Italy. Not that it matters anymore, she told herself. Still, it would be nice to know. For the record. It made her a little panicky to think that if Jesse really had left campus, she had no way of reaching him, no phone number, no e-mail address. She didn’t even know the name of his hometown in New Jersey.
Then a name popped into her mind: Peter Gregorian. Isn’t that Jesse’s friend in Bradley Hall, the guy he’s been staying with? I can start with him and track Jesse down from there, Lucy thought, calmer than she’d felt in days.
She knew she probably shouldn’t. But she also knew she was going to.
Early the next morning, Lucy arrived at Peter Gregorian’s suite and knocked on the door. Nobody answered at first. Just as she was about to give up, a damp-haired, bare-chested guy in a towel opened the door. He looked her up and down as though she were the half-naked one.
“I’m looking for Peter Gregorian,” she said.
“Pete’s out. Don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Can I leave a message?” Lucy looked past the guy into Peter Gregorian’s messy dorm room. “Or maybe you could help me. It’s not really Pete I’m looking for. Do you know Jesse Palladino?”
“The dude who was sleeping on our couch?” He gave Lucy another once-over.
“So he’s gone?” Lucy asked.
“Since, I don’t know, Monday, maybe. Or Tuesday.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know his phone number, would you? Or maybe what town he’s from?”
“Sorry,” the guy said. “All I know is this Jesse guy shows
up, asking to crash on our couch. There’s hardly enough air in this suite for four people to breathe, you know what I mean?”
“Uh, yeah,” Lucy said.
“You could leave me your phone number,” the guy said.
But Lucy didn’t like the sound of that. “Can’t you give me Pete’s number instead?” And when he hesitated, she faked a flirtatious smile. “Please?”
Lucy left Bradley Hall with Peter Gregorian’s cell-phone number in her hand. As soon as she was out of the building, she left a voice-mail message: “You don’t know who I am, but I’m trying to find Jesse Palladino. Please call me back soon.” But hours passed with no reply. In English class, Lucy decided she couldn’t wait another minute, so she hid the phone under her desk and sent Peter a follow-up text.
Her phone vibrated thirty seconds after class let out, while she was gathering her books. Peter Gregorian’s message was short and to the point: I know who you are, it read. Call him. 732-555-2509.
Lucy gave a little yelp, which caused everyone around her, including the professor, to turn her way. With an apologetic shrug, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and slipped out into the hallway. In the atrium, she leaned against a pillar and dialed.
You’ve reached the Palladino residence, a woman’s voice said. Please leave a message after the beep.
“Um, hello. My name is Lucy. I’m a friend of Jesse’s.” As awkward as she felt, Lucy forced herself to continue. “Could you please have him call me as soon as he can? It’s important.” She left her phone number, hung up, and inhaled sharply, knowing she’d done all she could. The rest was up to Jesse.
XXIV
Friday night’s rehearsal didn’t go well. As Lucy ran through her duet with Cleo, she found she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept wandering to the phone in her pocket. Ever since she’d left that message, it had stubbornly failed to vibrate.
Was Jesse really not going to call her? Even if he’d gone back to Italy already, wouldn’t his parents have let him know someone was trying to reach him? Should she have said it was an emergency? Lucy was tempted to call and leave another voice mail, but what good would that have done? Either Jesse’s parents would pass her message on or they wouldn’t. Either he would want to talk to her or he wouldn’t.
He must really hate me now, she thought, hitting a sour note. She told herself to concentrate, but a few bars later she fell out of tune again.
“You okay tonight, Lucy?” Ben, the music director, asked her at one point.
“I think I might be coming down with something. My roommate’s been sick. And my throat does feel scratchy.”
There was doubt in Ben’s eyes. Was he sorry she’d been cast as Maureen? Get it together, Lucy scolded herself. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the character’s confidence, her flamboyance, her swagger.
After that, things went better. Rehearsal ran late, and it seemed forever by the time Marcella dismissed them, saying, “Go, have yourselves a nice weekend. I’ll see your bright and shiny faces Sunday afternoon.”
Lucy was buttoning her coat when Matteo and Cleo ran up to her. “Want to come out with us?” Cleo asked. “I was just telling Matteo I could use some binner. You know, breakfast for dinner? I didn’t make it to the dining hall tonight, and there’s this all-night diner in University City that I’m dying to try.”
Lucy had begged off, and now, as she crossed campus by herself, she was having second thoughts. Her dorm room was so empty without Britt in it. She thought about calling Shane, but she wasn’t up for faking cheeriness, and how could she explain the bad mood she was in?
The night was misty, the path dark. Lucy jangled the keys in her coat pocket just to hear the sound. The warm lights of the dorms and academic buildings she passed made her feel all the more cold and alone. When she turned the corner and Woodruff Hall came into sight, she sighed with relief. As soon as she got inside she would run up to the fourth floor, tear open the door, and climb into bed.
Lucy was almost to the dorm when she spotted someone hurrying toward her. She recognized the walk and the wiry build before she took in the gig bag slung over his shoulder, the glossy hair, and the olive skin. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. It was Jesse, and he’d spotted her; she could tell by the way his step picked up speed. Before she could object, he wrapped her in a hug so warm and snug she knew right away he’d misunderstood her message. He thinks I want to get back together, she thought. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she melted into his arms, unable to stop herself. But when he drew her face closer to his, leaning in for a kiss, she knew what she had to do, and pulled back.
“No,” she said. “I can’t. I’m glad you’re here, but I didn’t mean…”
Jesse surveyed her, his face solemn. “You didn’t mean what?”
“I called because I need to ask you some questions.”
Now Jesse looked hurt. “Questions?”
“Things I’ve been wondering about,” Lucy said. “Why you hardly wrote to me after I left. And why you deleted your e-mail address without telling me first.”
His brow furrowed. “What does any of that matter?”
“It matters to me,” she said. “I need answers. So I can move on.”
“You said you’ve already moved on,” Jesse said.
“I have,” she replied. “I absolutely have.”
“With your new boyfriend.”
“His name is Shane,” Lucy said. Should she tell him about the weekend she and Shane had planned, how they would be taking things to the next level? No, she decided. It’s none of his business.
For a long moment, Jesse didn’t speak. When he did, his voice had an edge to it that she’d never heard before. “What if I’ve got questions for you? Did you ever think of that?”
Lucy was taken aback. “What questions?”
“Who this Shane guy is,” he said, “and what he’s like.”
Lucy didn’t answer. Did he really expect her to stand there and discuss her boyfriend with him?
“How serious are you about him?”
“Very,” she said, but her voice came out smaller than she intended.
“Is he good enough for you?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He’s more than good enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. If you really must know, he’s great. Fantastic, even.” Her words came out in a torrent. “He’s cute and sophisticated. He’s smart, and he likes to travel and go to nice restaurants. He’s a business major and he’s got a good job, and a really promising future—”
Jesse interrupted her. “That’s what I was worried about.”
Lucy’s voice rose. “You were worried about his future?”
“It sounds like this guy is someone safe,” Jesse said. “Someone your parents would approve of.”
His words hit Lucy like a punch in her gut. She recoiled. “He is not. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Your parents don’t approve of him?”
“They’ve never even met him,” she said. “I don’t need their approval.”
“Lucy,” Jesse said. “We both know that isn’t true.”
His words stung her. “I don’t need your approval, either,” she said, eyes narrowed.
“I never said you did. I would never say that.”
“Well, good. Because I don’t.” She took a step away from him, then another. “This was a mistake. I should never have called you.”
“Wait.” She could hear him on the path behind her, his voice muffled as he bent to snatch up his duffel bag and guitar.
“Why should I?”
“I’ll leave you alone,” he called after her. “If that’s what you really want.”
“It is.” Lucy’s step slowed.
“But first I should answer your questions. Since that’s why you called.”
She turned back to face him. “Not here.” What if Sarah or Glory came out of the building? Or, worse, what if Shane pulled up to pay her a surprise visit? Not t
hat he ever had, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Looking for a secluded spot, she led Jesse around the corner to the service entrance, shut at this time of night. She leaned up against the dorm’s cold brick, and he joined her there.
“So go ahead,” she said. “Explain.”
“First I want to say I’m sorry.” The unpleasant edge in his voice had vanished, and he sounded like the Jesse she remembered.
“For what?” Lucy stared down at the tips of her boots. It was safer than looking into his eyes.
“For dropping off the radar,” he said.
“But why? Why did you just disappear?”
“I was pulling double shifts at the hotel. And on the weekends, I was taking the train out to Sorrento, to do some busking.”
Lucy dared a look at him. “Too busy to send an e-mail?”
“You’re right; that’s not the whole reason.” The bright light above the service entrance reflected in Jesse’s eyes, making twin crescent moons. With his hands buried deep in his pockets, he looked boyish, vulnerable. Lucy forced herself to look away again.
“I needed to figure some things out,” he said.
“Some things?” She raised an eyebrow. From an open window above them, music spilled out, a Top 40 ballad that played under their conversation like the sound track to a melodramatic movie. Lucy willed it to stop, but it only got louder. “You mean about Angelina?”
“She’s a good person,” he said, his voice a shade more wary.
“And you were… involved with her?”
“For a little while.”
“Oh. That’s why you stopped writing to me? Why you deleted your e-mail account?” Lucy asked. “Because you were… with Angelina.”
“No,” Jesse said. “That’s not why.”
“You started seeing her and forgot about me.” Lucy tried not to sound hurt.
“No,” Jesse said. “The opposite. I was trying to forget about you, and I couldn’t.”
What he’d just said wasn’t funny at all, but Lucy couldn’t stifle a bitter laugh. “And that’s why you blew me off? Because you couldn’t forget about me? Sorry, but that doesn’t compute.”