“Oh look, another SodaStream!” Hanna exclaimed, removing the drink-carbonating machine from its wrapping paper. She peered at the accompanying card. “It’s from a Mrs. Mary Hammond in Akron, Ohio.” She glanced at Mike. “Anyone you know?”
“Nope, sounds like a Hanna fan.” Mike made a face. “I don’t even like sparkling water.”
Hanna added it to the duplicates pile, which also included three Keurig coffeemakers, two waffle irons, four eggbeaters, and two complete sets of kitchen knives. She let out a sigh as she took in all the loot. “Let’s just hope Macy’s lets us exchange this for cash.”
“Not this one!” Mike said, slicing open a small envelope. It was a twenty-five-dollar gift card to Hooters from someone in New Mexico. He tucked it into his pocket. “I’m totally treating Noel to some wings and boobs.”
“You’re gross,” Hanna told him, wrinkling her nose in mock horror.
“Just kidding.” Mike grinned. “I won’t even look at the girls.”
“Damn right,” Hanna said as she opened yet another salad spinner.
Mike peeked at the card, which was again from someone neither of them knew. “But you know that means you can’t work out with any of the hot male trainers at the gym anymore.”
“What?” Hanna pouted. “That’s not fair!”
Mike grinned. “You have to give up some stuff for marriage, remember?”
“Fine, I guess it’s worth it.” Hanna sighed dramatically.
“It’s totally worth it,” Mike said, and leaned in to kiss her.
When he leaned back, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, Hanna looked into his bright blue eyes. “Promise me we won’t turn into a boring married couple?” she blurted out. “I don’t want to be those people who sit around and watch TV and don’t talk to each other.”
Mike picked up a big gift with pink-and-white striped wrapping paper. “Obviously not. We’re going to be the cool married people. We’ll go to parties, have tons of friends . . .”
“And we’ll live in New York,” Hanna said, smiling at the thought of the Fashion Institute of Technology. She’d gotten a call yesterday saying she was still welcome there if she wanted to attend. The idea of getting out of Rosewood to somewhere exciting like New York City was pretty thrilling. She was sick of this place.
“Yeah, my parents are thrilled I got into Stuyvesant,” Mike said, referring to the prestigious public school in Manhattan. You had to take an exam to be admitted, and Mike had surprised everyone by passing easily—except for Hanna, of course, who always knew he was smart. She felt guilty that he would spend his senior year of high school somewhere new, but he’d assured her that he was ready to leave Rosewood, too. And that he wanted to be wherever Hanna was. “Plus, Aria will be there. Hey,” Mike said, his eyes lighting up as he got an idea. “Maybe we should get a big apartment with her and Noel. How awesome would that be? You guys could, like, girl-talk every night, Noel and I could watch football, we’d always have drinking buddies . . .”
Hanna shoved him playfully. “We are not having roommates, Mike. We’re married.”
She was about to say something else, but she trailed off, her attention turned to the object Mike had pulled from the pink-and-white wrapping. It was a robin’s-egg-blue Tiffany box.
“Ooh!” she squealed, yanking it from Mike and opening the lid. Inside, instead of a pair of crystal champagne glasses or one of those gorgeous silver picture frames like she’d expected, was a silver bracelet with a Tiffany heart charm. She blinked. It was exactly like the one she’d shoplifted from the King James Mall years before. That bracelet had landed her in the police station and had triggered the first message from A, about looking fat in prison garb. Except there was one difference: This charm had an initial engraved on it. The letter A.
There was a note with the bracelet, too. Hanna opened it up.
I’ll always be watching. —A
Hanna felt the blood drain from her face. Was this from the real A? Maybe before Emily apprehended Ali in Florida? She wished she knew when UPS had delivered the box.
Mike grabbed the note and stuffed it in his pocket. “We’ll turn it over to Fuji. But you shouldn’t worry about it.”
“Uh huh,” Hanna said quickly.
But that didn’t stop her heart from pounding. It was going to take some time to really understand that Ali was truly gone. Nick wouldn’t be getting out of prison, either, and even Mrs. DiLaurentis had been arrested for hiding Ali and pulling a gun on Emily. And even if, by a horrible twist of fate, Ali did escape from prison, at least Fuji believed them this time. Hanna and the others were no longer the Pretty Little Liars but the Pretty Little Truth-tellers. Not that that had a particularly good ring to it on the cover of People.
Her phone chirped, and she put the strange box aside and looked at the number on the caller ID, afraid for a split second that A might be calling. It was a number from Los Angeles. Puzzled, Hanna answered and heard a gruff voice. “Hanna? This is Hank Ross.”
“Oh!” Hanna shot up from her chair. Hank was the director of Burn It Down. “H-how are you?”
“I’m all right, Hanna, though probably not as well as you are.” Hanna could tell by the tone of Hank’s voice that he was smiling. “Congratulations on everything. I also heard you got married?”
“Uh, yeah,” Hanna said. She looked over and Mike squeezed her arm. Who is it? he mouthed, but she held up a finger, indicating she’d tell him in a moment.