Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [142]
"So you slept with him?" Rachel asked again in a loud, strange voice. Her cheeks blushed pink—a sign that she was angry—but I plowed on, divulging full details, telling her how our affair had begun, how we tried e in i 1 y g i f f i n to stop but couldn't overcome the crazy pull toward one another. Then I took a deep breath and told her that I was pregnant with Marcus's baby and that we planned on getting married. I braced myself for a few tears, but Rachel remained composed. She asked a few questions that I answered honestly. Then I thanked her for not hating me, feeling incredible relief that despite the upheaval in my life, I still had my anchor, my best friend.
"Yeah… I don't hate you," Rachel said, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I hope Dex takes it as well. At least as far as Marcus goes. He's going to hate him for a while. But Dex is rational. Nobody did this on purpose to hurt him. It just happened."
And then, just as I was about to ask her if she would still be my maid of honor when I married Marcus, my whole world collapsed around me. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again, nor had it ever been as I thought. That was the moment I saw Dexter's watch on my best friend's nightstand. An unmistakable vintage Rolex.
"Why is Dexter's watch on your nightstand?" I asked, silently praying that she would offer a logical and benign explanation.
But instead, she shrugged and stammered that she didn't know. Then she said that it was actually her watch, that she had one just like his. Which was not plausible on account of the fact that I had searched for months to find that watch and then bought a new crocodile band for it, making it a true original. Besides, even had it been a predictable, spanking new Rolex Oyster Perpetual, her voice was shaking, her face even paler than usual. Rachel can do many things well, but lying isn't one of them. So I knew. I knew that my best friend in the world had committed an unspeakable act of betrayal.
The rest was like slow motion. I could practically hear the sound effects that accompanied The Bionic Woman, one of my favorite shows. One of our favorite shows—I had watched everything with Rachel. I stood up, grabbed the watch from her nightstand, flipped it over and read the inscription aloud. "All my love, Darcy." My words felt thick and heavy in my throat as I remembered the day I had his watch engraved. I had called Rachel on my cell and asked her about the wording. "All my love" had been her suggestion.
I stared at her, waiting, but she still said nothing. Just stared at me with those big, brown eyes, her always ungroomed brow furrowed above them.
"What the fuck?" I said evenly. Then I screamed the question again as I realized that Dex was likely lurking in the apartment, hiding somewhere. I shoved past her into the bathroom, whipping open the shower curtain. Nothing. I darted forward to check the closet.
"Darcy, don't," she said, blocking the door with her back.
"Move!" I screamed. "I know he's in there!"
So she moved and I opened the door. And sure enough, there he was, crouched in the corner in his striped navy boxers. Another gift from me.
"You liar!" I shouted at him, feeling myself begin to hyperventilate. I was accustomed to drama. I thrived on drama. But not this kind. Not the kind of drama that I didn't control from the outset.
Dex stood and dressed calmly, putting one foot and then the other into his jeans, zipping defiantly. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. It was as if I had only accused him of stealing the covers or eating my Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream.
"You lied to me!" I shouted again, louder this time.
"You have got to be kidding me," he said, his voice low. "Fuck you, Darcy."
In all my years with Dex, he had never