Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [109]
"What are you ordering?" I ask him as he scans his menu.
He refuses to look up. "I'm not sure."
"Go figure," Hillary mumbles. "Why don't you order two meals?"
Julian squeezes her shoulder and shoots me an apologetic look.
Dex turns in his chair toward Marcus and manages to avoid all conversation and eye contact with me and Hillary for the rest of our dinner. I am seized by worry. Are you mad? Are you mad? Are you mad? I think as I struggle to eat my swordfish. Please don't be mad. I am desperate, frantic to talk to Dex and clear the air for our remaining time together. I don't want to end on such a sour note.
Later at the Talkhouse, Dex and I are finally alone. I am ready to apologize for Hillary when he turns on me, his green eyes flashing. "Why the hell did you tell her?" he hisses.
I am not well trained in conflict and feel startled by his hostility. I give him a blank look, pretending to be confused. Should I apologize? Offer an explanation? I know we had an unspoken vow of secrecy, but I had to tell someone.
"Hillary. You told her," he says, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. I note that he is even hotter when he's angry—his jaw somehow more square.
I push this observation aside as something snaps inside me. How dare he be angry with me! I have done nothing to him! Why am I the one feeling frantic, desperate to be forgiven?
"I can tell anyone I want," I say, surprised by the hardness in my voice.
"Tell her to stay outta this," he says.
"Stay out of what, Dex? Our fucked-up relationship?"
He looks startled. And then hurt. Good.
"It's not fucked up," he says. "The situation is, but our relationship is not."
"You're engaged, Dexter." My indignation boils into fury. "You can't separate that from our relationship."
"I know. I'm still engaged… but you hooked up with Marcus."
"What?"I ask, incredulous.
"You kissed him at Aubette."
I can't believe what I'm hearing—he is engaged and is finding fault with a nothing little kiss! I fleetingly wonder how long he has known and why he hasn't said anything before now. I fight back the instinct to be contrite.
"Yeah, I kissed Marcus. Big deal."
"It's a big deal to me." His face is so close to mine that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "I hate it. Don't do it again."
"Don't tell me what to do," I whisper fiercely back. Angry tears sting my eyes. "I don't tell you what to do… You know what? Maybe I should tell you what to do… How about this one: marry Darcy. I don't care."
I walk away from Dex, almost believing it. It is my first free moment of the summer. Perhaps the freest moment of my life. I am the one in control. I am the one deciding. I find a space on the back patio, alone in a massive crowd, my heart pounding. Minutes later, Dex finds me, grips my elbow.
"You don't mean what you said… about not caring." Now it is his turn to be anxious. It never ceases to amaze me how foolproof the rule is: the person who cares the least (or pretends to) holds the power. I have proven it true once more. I shake his hand off my arm and just look at him coldly. He moves closer to me, takes my arm again.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," he whispers, bending down toward my face.
I do not soften. I will not. "I'm tired of the warring emotions, Dex. The endless cycle of hope and guilt and resentment. I'm tired of wondering what will happen with us. I'm tired of waiting for you."
"I know. I'm sorry," he says. "I love you, Rachel."
I feel myself weakening. Despite my tough-girl facade I am buzzing from being this near him, from his words. I look into his eyes. All of my instincts and desires—everything tells me to make peace, to tell him that I love him too. But I fight against them like a drowning person in a riptide. I know what I have to say. I think of Hillary's advice, how she has been telling me to say something all along. But I am not doing this for her. This is for me. I formulate the sentences, words that have been ringing in my head all summer.
"I want to be with you, Dex," I say steadily. "Cancel the wedding. Be with me."
There it is. After two months