Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [84]
She tells me that he's thirty-seven, a writer, never been married. She met him on the beach. She was going for a walk, he was going for a walk. Both of them were alone, moving in the same direction. He kept stopping to examine shells, and she finally caught up to him and introduced herself. They ended up going back to his house, where he made her tomato, mozzarella, and basil salad. Tomatoes and basil from his garden, fresh mozzarella. She says they couldn't stop talking—that he is brilliant, handsome, sensitive.
"So did you see him after that day?"
"Oh, yeah. We hung out the whole weekend… Rach, it's like we skipped all the bullshit. It's hard to explain… We are just together already. He is the best."
"When can I meet him?"
"He's coming this weekend. You can meet him then."
"I can't wait."
I am happy for her, but a little envious. I assume Julian isn't engaged. Les calls, interrupting our moment. I don't answer, feeling incapable of dealing with him. Hillary also seems unable to move out of her chair and go to her office to check her own messages. Our firm and all the drones in it can wait. We are talking about love.
After Hillary leaves my office, I go back to obsessing over Dex, waiting for an e-mail or call. When the phone finally rings, I jump.
But it's only Darcy, asking if I'm free for lunch.
I tell her yes. I hate the idea of seeing her, but I need to know what is going on. Maybe Dex has told her something.
We meet at Naples, a restaurant in the lobby of the MetLife Building. There is a line, so I suggest we go across the street to a deli. She says no, that she has been dying for pizza. I say fine, we'll wait for a table. I study her face for possible breakup signs. Nothing new, although her hair looks more sun-streaked. She is wearing it in a low, neat ponytail. Aquamarine earrings dangle just below her lobes.
"Do I have something on my face?" Darcy asks, swiping at her cheeks.
"I was just looking at your earrings. They're pretty. Are they new?"
"No. Dex gave them to me a long time ago."
"When? For your birthday?"
"No… I can't remember exactly. Just a random gift."
I feel a surge of jealousy, but tell myself that much has changed since then.
Darcy asks me how my weekend was.
"Fine," I say. My heart flutters just thinking about it. "You know. Lots of work… How was yours?"
"Awesome. You should have been there. Great parties. Great bands at the Talkhouse. Omigod, it was so much fun. You and Dex picked the wrong weekend to work."
You and Dex. You and Dex. You and Dex.
"Did Dex have to work the whole time?" I ask, for good measure.
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, what else is new? I'm marrying a workaholic."
"He can't help his hours."
Or how he feels.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says. "But I bet you anything he volunteers for half the stuff he gets stuck working on. I swear he enjoys it. It makes him feel important." Her voice is slightly snide. Perhaps this is the prelude to her story about their huge fight.
"You think?"
"I know," she says, as we are led to a table outside. "And I guess you know Hillary met a guy, right?"
"Yeah, she told me. Did you meet him?"
"Briefly."
"What did you think?"
"He's not bad-looking. Not my type—too artsy-fartsy. But still pretty cute. Wonders never cease."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, knowing full well that she means Hillary meeting a cute guy is an unlikely event.
"Look at her. She doesn't care about her appearance at all. Half the time she doesn't even act like a girl."
"I think she's pretty."
Darcy gives me a "Get real" look.
I think of Hillary's wrinkled pants and chipped toenail. "Just because she's not a girly-girl doesn't mean she's not attractive."
"She's over thirty. She needs to start wearing makeup. The au naturel crap went out in the seventies."
"Well, apparently Julian doesn't agree."
"Yeah, well, we'll see how long that lasts," she says, dipping her bread into a plate of oil.
Yeah, we'll see how much longer you and Dex last. I think of the red dice,