Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(92)

What was happening? Was he going to just let me stand there forever with my hand out? Did he have any idea how hard it was for someone like me to apologize?

He did. Finally he lifted one of those hands from his pockets and wrapped his strong fingers around mine.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Susannah,” he said, his voice as warmly reassuring as his hand. “None of this was your fault. It was his.”

“Thanks, Jesse. You still should have had heard about it from me, though. I wanted to tell you, I was just—”

“Afraid I’d get angry,” Jesse said. “Yes, I know. But I should have trusted you, as well. Let’s just say we both made mistakes—not only tonight—and leave it at that.” He’d begun steering me toward Jake’s BMW, which I saw parked a dozen feet away. “Susannah, do you actually believe it?”

“What?”

“This curse. That—”

“Of course not,” I interrupted. “I don’t believe there’s a murderous bone in your body . . . toward anyone but Paul, any-way. But even if it’s true, we don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“What?” He looked startled. “David said there was no way to break the curse. He said he’d been looking into it with some friend who—”

“It doesn’t matter. Ninety-nine Pine Crest Road isn’t getting torn down.”

His voice didn’t sound so warm anymore all of a sudden. “Why?”

“Because I own it.”

We’d reached Jake’s car, but Jesse didn’t move to pull the keys from his pocket. He did drop my hand, however. “You own it? How do you own it?”

“Well, I don’t own it quite yet,” I explained. “There’s still some paperwork I’ll have to sign. And apparently there are going to be some tax issues. I suspect I’ll get slammed pretty hard. But Paul’s going to sign the house over to me in exchange for my never revealing that he’s the triplets’ real father, and for my giving them mediator lessons there when they’re older.”

Jesse stared down at me in silence for several beats. It was a little hard to see his face, since the lighting in the parking lot wasn’t that great and the moon was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds. But I had the impression that he wasn’t too happy.

This was confirmed when he let out a blistering curse (in Spanish, of course), and said, finally, “You’re the one who is possessed.”

“What?” I stared up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone is so worried that I have a dark side? You’re the one I think we should be worrying about.”

“Oh, come on, Jesse. You want us to be honest with each other? Then let’s be honest. You had to have suspected.”

“No, Susannah, the possibility of Paul Slater being your nieces’ father never entered my mind, and I’m wondering how you knew.”

“Because Lucia told me,” I said, before I could think.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I saw in his eyes the betrayal I’d inflicted. But it was too late to undo the damage.

“Lucia told you?” Jesse looked as if he’d been slapped. “And you never said a word to me?”

I backpedaled at once.

“I wasn’t going to say a word to anyone,” I insisted. “It seemed like the kind of thing that ought to be kept a secret—”

“From me? We’re supposed to be getting married!”

“What do you mean, supposed to be?” My heart twisted. “Jesse, I can understand you being angry with me, but don’t you think it’s a little extreme to get this angry—”

“I’m not angry with you, Susannah.” He dragged a hand frustratedly through his thick dark hair. “I . . . I don’t know what I am.”

“Use your words.” It was a phrase we’d employed frequently with the triplets.

“Fine.” He glared at me. “I’m disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

I don’t think he could have chosen a word that hurt more. Lord knew Jesse and I had argued in the past, but he’d never before trotted out that particular weapon from his arsenal. It pierced my heart like the blade of a stiletto, the pain causing in me a wild desire to hurt him back.

“Are you kidding me? Oh, excuse me, Dr. de Silva. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. God knows I’ll never be as elegant a lady as your precious Miss Boyd. I thought I was doing you a favor tonight—”

“I’ve told you before I don’t want favors from you, Susannah,” he snarled. “I’ve never expected any and I’ve never asked for any. All I’ve ever wanted from you is the truth.”

“Which I’ve always given you, Jesse,” I said. “I admit I may not always have told you things as promptly as I should have, but I’ve always told you eventually.”

“Eventually? You mean years later, in the case of what happened between you and Slater on graduation night. And would I have even found out about your little plan for tonight if David hadn’t called?”

“Which little plan?”

His lips twitched cynically. “So many you can’t even keep track! The one involving the bargain you made with Slater.”