Page 28 of The Book of Summer

Meanwhile, where was Brandon, Bess’s new husband? Who the hell knew. The important question was: Why did Evan leave Costa Rica and did he bring the girl?

“Dunno,” the person replied.

“I have to admit,” Bess says now, at the construction site, the wind stirring up the sawdust around them. “When discussing high school boyfriends with the girls on my freshman hall, ‘random townie’ ranked as the best by far.”

“Well, duh. Especially once they learned you were serenaded at prom.”

“Ah, yes. In front of the whole school. Actually that almost disqualified you.”

“Hey,” Evan says, pretending to be outraged. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever done!”

“How sad for you. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” Bess puts a solemn hand to her chest. “‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ is very romantic. I’ve grown awfully tired of hearing it at weddings though. I mean, come up with an original first dance song already.”

“Cut me some slack. I was an eighteen-year-old kid. That was my way of showing affection.”

“And it was very cute,” Bess says. “Initially. But after the song ended, you and the rest of the baseball team broke into the ‘Macarena.’ So forgive me if I wasn’t swooning.”

Evan laughs.

“Okay,” he says. “You have me there. The ‘Macarena’ is terrible. Well, I can tell you one thing. That Brandon douchebag never sang ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ to anyone.”

“Safe assumption. So that’s why you didn’t like him? He was deficient in Coolio appreciation?”

“Yes. That. Also because, from the moment I met him, I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Brandon?” Bess is puzzled. “Seriously? He’s an asshole once you get to know him, but on the surface…”

Brandon wasn’t all bad. Not in theory, anyway. Bess has standards. She fell in love withsomething.There was his over-the-top-gentlemanly stuff, for one. He made the bed the first time he slept over. While Bess showered, he snuck out and bought not only breakfast but a week’s worth of groceries. Never mind the chores; there were the notes he left in Bess’s purse. Once a week, at least.

You looked beautiful this morning.

I couldn’t sleep. I kept looking over to make sure you were still there.

Don’t make plans tonight. I have a surprise.

He always kissed her before leaving for work. And if he somehow forgot, Brandon would drive all the way back to right this grievous wrong. Sometimes he came back anyway, ten, twenty minutes having passed.

“But you said good-bye!” Bess might’ve laughed.

“I needed another kiss. And I love that look on your face, the surprise when you were sure I’d already gone.”

Brandon could be so loving. So protective. So overly concerned with Bess’s whereabouts. At least a half dozen times he showed up at the hospital because Bess wasn’t home and he was worried. Admittedly, that was a bit creepy in hindsight, but Bess was too swept up to question it.

“On the surface, what?” Evan asks, and lifts a brow. “Listen, he’s pretty and all. If you’re into that kind of thing. But I remember thinking, whoa, that guy does not deserve to be here. He shouldn’t even be at the game.”

“But why? That’s not what you…” Bess starts, trying to shake off the confusion. “Okay. So in your grand total of two times meeting Brandon, what, exactly, didn’t you care for? And P.S., you could’ve mentioned something.”

“He has jerk hair,” Evan spits out.

“Jerk hair.”

“It was too styled. Plus, he had this vibe… like he’s a shyster or something.”

“A shyster?” Bess chuckles. “That makes him sound far cleverer than he really is, like his dickishness is intentional and not simply part of his DNA.” Bess mulls this over. “Although, I did once bust him Googling ‘romantic gestures.’ Now I can’t decide if that’s sweet or ‘psycho to the extreme,’ which was my cousin’s take.”

Evan laughs in return.

“I don’t know if it’s psycho,” he says. “But it’s not normal. Did you ever recognize any of the alleged ‘romantic’ moves?”