P.S. I Like You(58)

A sob crept up on me, getting out before I could stop it. “I’m not supposed to cry.”

“Why not?”

That was someone’s rule. I wasn’t even sure whose anymore. No crying before date three. It didn’t matter; we’d never have a date three. Rules were stupid anyway. They didn’t work.

He stepped forward, so close I could smell his breath-stealing scent again. “Talk to me, Lily.”

I leaned forward, put my forehead on his chest, and let myself be sad for a moment about what I couldn’t have that was standing right in front of me. I didn’t let my arms go around him like they wanted to. I didn’t let the rest of my body melt into him or even my cheek find its way against his soft cotton shirt. No, just my forehead and only a few tears.

“I’ll be done before they leave,” I promised.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. “You have three hours. No need to rush.”

He pulled me closer, but my arms were still crossed over my chest, creating a very necessary barrier between us. I had once told him in a letter that hugs were magical, and they were. Hearing his breath in my ear, feeling his heart beat against me, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, sent tingles throughout my entire being. He’d bent down a little, his head filling in the space next to mine. I could swallow my objections for three hours. Live in this perfect moment for as long as possible. I didn’t have to think about the past or Sasha or Isabel …

No, I had to think about Isabel. She was more important to me.

I pushed my arms against him and he released his hold. I wiped at my cheeks with my sleeves. “Thanks, but I’m good now.”

“Too late. They already left.”

I watched as his BMW pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. “You let your friends drive your car?”

“I’m not as attached to it as you might imagine.”

Because it was bought with his father’s money, I remembered him saying in one of the letters. I knew more about him than he realized.

“Okay. I’ll take you home.” I sniffled, embarrassed by the embrace we had just shared.

“Can we stop somewhere first?” He rounded the van and got in the passenger seat before I’d answered.

When I was in as well I asked, “Do I have a choice?”

“Truce. We called a truce.”

I managed a small smile. “All right. Where to?”





“I do actually have to be home at some point tonight.”

“We’re almost there.”

We were listening to awful music on the radio. I couldn’t play the kind of music I would normally be listening to without giving everything away. It was dark and I had no idea where we were, but I knew we were at least twenty minutes from my house.

“Turn right here on seventh,” Cade instructed.

I turned and my guitar case in the back slid and hit the wall.

“What was that?” he asked.

“The dead body I keep back there.”

“Nice.” He pointed. “Okay, up ahead there on the left turn into the main drive.”

“Of the Land’s End? You’re taking me to a hotel? I’m not that kind of girl.”

He laughed. “I’m not taking you to the hotel … Well, I am taking you to the hotel, but not like that.”

He showed me where to park and I turned off the van.

“Now, follow my lead,” Cade whispered. “If anyone stops us, let me do the talking.”

“Is this illegal?”

“Not really.”

“That wasn’t a comforting answer.”

“Are you looking for comfort?”

I didn’t answer, but I followed him. He must’ve decided at some point that I was walking too slow because he reached back and took my hand, pulling me along. The feel of his hand made my heart skip.

We went through the front doors of the hotel. There was only one attendant at the front desk who was busy on the phone and didn’t even glance at us. We passed through multiple fancy rooms and halls until we were outside on the back end of the hotel.

Cade led me past a huge lit-up rock waterfall and up some stairs and down more paths until we came to a locked gate that said NO ADMITTANCE AFTER HOURS. There was a slot on top of the handle to slide a card in. I was guessing that it was most definitely after hours. He must’ve not realized it would be closed.

I waited for him to turn around and lead us somewhere else but he looked over his shoulder, then hopped the fence and opened the gate from the inside.

“So this is what you meant by ‘not really.’ ” I took a deep breath and walked through the gate. We followed a long cement path up a hill until we reached what I assumed was our destination—a large patio area that overlooked an enormous expanse of grass and trees and desert landscape.

“That’s the golf course,” Cade explained. “You can see it better during the day.”

I took in the view. “Do you come here often?”

“My stepdad takes me golfing sometimes. I hate to golf, but I love to come up here and sit.”

“Your stepdad’s last name is Jennings, yes? The insurance company?”

“Yes.”

“And your last name is Jennings?”