Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson Page A

It seemed a thousand
     years from my heart attack in the Public Garden in Boston.
    Nicky, I felt so lucky—so blessed.
    Matt gently took my hand and led me up the stairs to his room. I wanted to go with him, but still I was afraid. I hadn’t done
     this in a while.
    Neither of us spoke, but suddenly my mouth opened wide. He had converted the top floor to one big, beautiful space, complete
     with skylights that seemed to absorb the evening sky. I loved what he had done to the room. He turned on the CD player in
     the bedroom.
    Sarah Vaughan. Perfect.
    Matt told me that he could count falling stars from his bed. “One night I counted sixteen. A personal record.”
    He came to me, slowly and deliberately, drawing me toward him like a magnet. I could feel the buttons in the back of my blouse
     coming undone. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. His fingers traveled down to the base of my spine, playing
     so very gently. He slipped off my blouse, and I watched it float to the floor, milk-weed in a breeze.
    I stood so close to him, felt so close to Matt, barely breathing, feeling light, dizzy, magical, and very special.
    He slipped his hands down onto my hips. Matt then leaned me back, gently laid me on his bed. I watched him in the moon shadows.
     I found him to be beautiful.
How had this happened? Why was I suddenly so lucky?
    He stretched over me like a quilt on a cold night. That’s all I will say of it, all I will write.
     
    Dear Nicky,
    I hope when you grow up that everything you want comes your way, but especially love. When it’s true, when it’s right, love
     can give you the kind of joy that you can’t get from any other experience. I have been in love; I
am
in love, so I speak from experience. I have also lived long periods without love in my life, and there is no way to describe
     the difference between the two.
    We
is always so much better than
I.
    Please don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. And don’t ever become a cynic, Nicky. Anything but that!
    I look at your little hands and feet. I count your toes over and over, moving them gently as if they were beads on an abacus.
     I kiss your belly till you laugh. You are so innocent. Stay that way when it comes to love.
    Just look at you. How is it that I got so lucky? I got the perfect one. Your nose and mouth are just right. Your eyes and
     your smile are your very best features. Already I see your personality blossoming. It’s in your eyes. What are you thinking
     about right now? The mobile over your head? Your music box? Daddy says you’re probably thinking about girls and tools and
     flashy cars. He jokes that your favorite things are flashy cars, pretty girls, and birthday cake. “He’s a real boy, Suzanne.”
    That’s true, and it’s probably a good thing. But do you know what you like the best? Teddy bears. You’re so gentle and sweet
     with your little bears.
    Daddy and I laugh about all the good things that wait for you. But what we want most for you is love and that it will always
     surround you. It is a gift. If I can, I will try to teach you how to receive such a gift. Because to be without love is to
     be without grace, what matters most in life.
    We
is so much better than
I.
    If you need proof, just look at
us.
     
    “It’s Matt. Hi. Hello? Anybody home? Suzanne? You here?”
    The banging at my kitchen door was persistent and annoying, like an unexpected visit from an out-of-town relative. I went
     to the door, opened it, and then stopped, my mouth open in a little circle of surprise.
    It was Matt, all right, but not Matt Harrison.
    My visitor was Matt Wolfe.
    Behind him in my driveway, I could see his glistening green Jag convertible.
    Where had he been? He
still
hadn’t returned any of my calls.
    “Hi,” he said. “God, you look good, Suzanne. You look great, actually.” He leaned in and I let him give me a kiss on the cheek.
    I had no reason to feel guilty—but I did, anyway. “Matt. How are you? I