Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [85]
"Uh-huh," she says, rolling her eyes. "You do know her ex is with a new girl, right?"
"Yeah. Of course I know that. She couldn't care less about Corey anymore. And she dumped him, remember?"
"Well. Yeah. But then he started dating a twenty-three-year-old hottie and prancing around the Talkhouse right in front of her… and that's when she is suddenly so convinced that Julian is her guy. Coincidence? I don't think so."
I tell her that I think she's being mean. "Stop raining on her parade."
"Okay. Fine. Whatever. Next topic," Darcy says, dabbing her napkin at the corners of her mouth. "When did you last talk to Marcus?"
"Last week sometime."
She leans forward and tells me that he brought me up several times over the weekend.
"That's nice," I say, my eyes still on the menu. Marcus feels like ancient history.
She makes a face. "Why are you so lukewarm about him? Don't you think he's cute?"
"Yeah. He's cute," I say.
Our waiter arrives at the table to take our orders. Darcy asks for an individual pizza. I tell him that I'd like a Caesar salad.
Darcy objects. "Don't you want more than a salad?"
I can tell she's irritated that I'm getting a salad and she's ordering a pizza. She likes to be the dainty eater. So I appease her and say, "Caesar salads are substantial, and actually very fattening."
"Well, you'll have to eat some of my pizza. I can't eat the whole thing by myself." She is talking to me, but it is for the waiter's benefit. He smiles at her. She makes her expression friendly and open. I catch her moving her left hand under the table so he can't see her ring.
As he turns to leave, she says, "Oh, and can you make sure they don't burn the bottom of my pizza? Sometimes they burn the bottom. And 1 like my pizzas—how shall I say it—rare?" She moves her ponytail in front of one shoulder.
He laughs and winks. "No problem."
"He's too young for you," I say, not caring that he's still within earshot.
"What?" she says innocently. "Oh, puh-lease. I wasn't flirting."
Before she can launch into another topic, I must determine if there is any domestic trouble yet brewing. I use a wedding angle. "So what did you decide on the CDs?"
"The CDs?" She looks confused. "Oh, right, those things. I haven't given them another thought. I took the weekend off from wedding planning. Besides, I think those CDs might be too much trouble. Maybe I'll just do nuts or mints after all. They make these cute heart-shaped Altoids tins. Maybe we'll get those. You know how much Dexter loves his Altoids."
"Mmm… I didn't know that."
"Yeah," she says. "The cinnamon kind."
Dexter doesn't phone until late that night, and I miss the call because I am reviewing documents in a conference room. His message is brief: "Hi, Rach. Sorry I haven't called today… The whole day's been a fire drill getting ready for this pitch on Thursday. I really should have done some of this work over the weekend… Not that I'd do it differently. It was worth it to be with you. I miss you. I'll talk to you soon."
His message leaves me feeling hollow. That's it? A review of his work schedule? And using an annoying banker expression like "fire drill," no less. The next thing I know he's going to be telling me he's "in the weeds"another one of those "I'm so busy" banker phrases. And more important, he doesn't say anything about Darcy, about when I will see him next, about anything. Just that he misses me. It feels as though he is slipping away, my shot at happiness dissipating. I start to get panicky, but then tell myself to be patient. Dex will do the right thing. He will be with me in the end.
I finally see Dex on Thursday night. He arrives at my place late, exhausted from work. We talk for a few minutes before he falls asleep with his head on my lap as I watch a Sopranos rerun.