“Your grandmother?” I repeated.
“Are you calling her a liar?” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty low, calling your boyfriend’s grandmother a liar.”
I laughed despite myself. Laughing after crying always felt better than just laughing. Why does life have to be so terrible that way? “No, she’s right,” I told him. “You’re a catch. Glad I threw my line out there.”
Jesse smiled and kissed me again, and this time, I smiled back at him. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go talk, okay? You can tell me why you’re Huggles McGee all of a sudden.”
“Our place?”
“Our place,” he agreed, then picked up his bag with one hand while putting his arm around my shoulder. “Lead the way, lady.”
Chapter 4
We stopped at Jesse’s apartment long enough for him to drop off his bag, yell hello to his dad, and give his golden retriever, Max, a few tummy rubs before heading out hand in hand to our place, Gramercy Park.
Gramercy Park was the first place I had ever learned to pick gate locks. The only people who have access to the park are those who live directly on its borders, but when I was four years old, Angelo taught me how to crack the lock, and it was the place we met whenever we were both in the city at the same time.
On Jesse’s and my first date, I brought him here because he had never been inside the park before, and we just kept coming back. It was our little secret, not only from our friends and family, but from the rest of the city, as well. There aren’t many places in New York where you can find privacy, and as a spy I enjoyed some privacy every now and then.
Especially when it was with Jesse.
It took me only a few seconds to pick the lock this time. “That never gets old,” Jesse said after I popped it open. “Seriously, that’s really hot. Do it again.”
“Maybe I’ll just talk to you about cobalt shields and Master Locks,” I teased, lowering my voice into what I hoped was a seductive tone.
“What’s wrong with your voice?” he asked, then grinned as I laughed and pretended to punch him in the stomach as we made our way to our favorite bench, right under the pagoda birdhouse.
“Don’t poop on me, stupid pigeons,” I warned them as we got settled. “Little disease-filled wingbags.”
“You sound like Roux,” Jesse said. “She’s got issues with those birds.”
“She has raised some excellent points,” I countered, then rested my head on his shoulder and relaced his fingers with mine. It was twilight, my favorite time in the New York summer, when the sky looks as purple as the jacarandas in Los Angeles and the buildings are just starting to light up. The heat was still bad, but not as stifling as it had been earlier that afternoon, and I felt Jesse squeeze my hand and rest his head on top of mine.
“So,” he said. “What was with all the emotion back at Grand Central? You want to tell me?”
I shook my head. “Not right now. Can we just … sit? Just like this.”
“Of course.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand and I closed my eyes, happy to be still for a few minutes while the city raced around us.
It was almost full dark when I finally spoke again. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. Really into yoga and pottery. I think she’s got about ten coffee mugs that she made in class, but only one of them holds water.” He laughed a little, a laugh that I heard only when he came back from his mom’s house. It was easy and soft, like he could relax now that he knew his mom was happy. “But all the mugs look alike and she won’t get rid of any of them, so it takes a while to figure out which mug actually works.”
I smiled, pressing my head against his shoulder. “Sounds chaotic.”
“And wet. But she’s good.” Jesse threaded his fingers through mine and lifted our hands up so he could look at them. “I told her more about you. Not the spy stuff, but just … you know. About you. And us.”
I could feel my heartbeat start to quicken. “And? She was cool with it?”
“More than cool, actually. She thinks you’re smart. And pretty. And—”
“Aw, stop it some more.” I grinned and kissed the back of his hand. “Did you tell her I’m good at Jeopardy!, too? And a whiz in the kitchen?”
“Yes and definitely no. I think that made her like you more.” He kissed the top of my head and kept his lips pressed against my hair. “She wants to see you again.”
I’ve been through some scary situations in my life, but making a habit of seeing my boyfriend’s mother was not one of them. “Oh.”
“Is that okay? Are you allowed to do that?”
“Do what?”
“See her again. Can you meet people twice?”
“Spy-wise? Yeah, I think so. I don’t see why not.”
Jesse paused before saying, “And Maggie-wise?”
“Maggie-wise, I don’t know. What if she doesn’t like me this time? What if last time was a fluke?”
“Weirdo. Why wouldn’t she like you? You’re awesome.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied.
“Your parents like me,” Jesse pointed out. “Why wouldn’t my mom like you? My dad likes you.”
“Your dad’s so busy that he probably doesn’t even remember meeting me.”
“What? How can you even—okay, yeah, you’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. Believe me, if he didn’t like you, he’d remember you.”