while Dex sits cross-legged, looking at the ocean. I can see his shoulder and back out of the corner of my eye. I try not to think about his smooth skin and how he feels against me. I won't be feeling it again. I tell myself it's not the end of the world. It is for the best.
Before dinner that night, as I am dressing, Darcy comes to my room to ask me if I brought an eyelash curler. I tell her no, that I don't own an eyelash curler. Maybe Hillary does, but she is showering. She sits on my bed and sighs, her features rearranging in a dreamy expression.
'I just had the best sex,' she says.
I struggle to keep my composure. 'Oh, really?' I know I am opening the door for more sharing, but I don't know what else to say. My face is on fire. I hope Darcy won't notice.
'Yeah, it was phenomenal. Did you hear us?' It is like Darcy to share such details. She has always been explicit in her sexual reports. She will tell you what words were exchanged at the moment of orgasm. I have always listened, usually laughed, occasionally even enjoyed her stories. But those days are long over.
'No. I must have been in the shower,' I say.
'Yeah, we were in the shower too.' She finger-combs her wet hair, then shakes her head from side to side. 'Wow. Haven't had sex like that in months.'
I think of their wet bodies pressed together and can't decide who I hate more.
It is late, after two a.m. I have avoided Dex all night, at the house and then at dinner. Now we are at the Talkhouse. I have just ordered two beers, one for me and one for Hillary, when Dex finds me at the bar.
'Hi, Rach,' he says.
I am buzzed and brazen. The alcohol has dried up my hurt, leaving only resentment and anger. They are easier emotions to manage, more straightforward. 'Yes?'
'What's going on?' he asks casually.
'Nothing,' I snap, turning to leave.
'Wait a sec. Where are you going?'
'To take Hillary her beer.'
'I want to talk to you.'
'What about?' I make my voice icy.
'What's wrong?'
'Nothing's wrong,' I say, wishing I could think of something pointed and vengeful. I have not had much practice being mean, but my tone of voice must do the trick because Dex looks hurt. Not as hurt as I was today on the beach or during Darcy's sex report. Not hurt enough. I raise my eyebrows, looking at him with a slight look of disgust, as if to say, Yes? Is there something I can do for you?
'Are you-are you mad at me?' he asks.
I laugh-no, it is more of a snort.
''Are you?' he asks again.
'No, Dex, I'm not mad at you,' I say. 'I really am not concerned with you at all. Or what you do with Darcy.'
Now he knows that I know. 'Rachel…' he starts, flustered. Then he tries to tell me it was her doing, that she initiated it.
'She said it was the best sex of her life,' I say as I walk away, leaving him standing alone at the bar. 'Good job. Congrats.'
Even in the fog of my buzz, I know that I have no right to confront Dex like this. All he did was have sex with his fiancee. He has promised me nothing-we were not supposed to even discuss anything until the Fourth of July. No material misrepresentation has been made. In fact, no misrepresentation has been made at all, material or otherwise. I am in this situation of my own accord, have not been duped. But I still hate him.
I scan the crowd, trying to find Hillary. Dex follows me and grabs my arm right below my elbow. I drop one of the beers. The bottle breaks.
'Nice. Look what you did,' I say, looking down at the mess.
'I'll get you another one.'
'Don't bother.'
'Rachel, please… I couldn't help that. It was Darcy, I swear.'
Hillary suddenly appears beside us. 'What's up?'
I am not sure if she heard any of our conversation.
'Nothing,' Dex answers quickly. 'Rachel's just mad at me for dropping her beer.'
'You can have mine,' Hillary says.
'No, take this one,' I say, handing her the other beer.
She reluctantly takes it and asks where Darcy is.
'We were just looking for her,' I say.
I glance at Dex. He is trying to cover up in front of Hillary, but he is not doing the best job of it. His eyes are wide with worry, his mouth stretched into an uneasy smile. I bet he didn't have that look on his face in the shower.
It is over, I say in my head, with the dramatic flourish of a woman wronged. Then I turn around to find Marcus. Sweet Marcus, who offered me his Coke on the beach and is not engaged to anyone.
Chapter 11
Ahh. The bunny-in-the-pot routine,' Ethan says when I give him the update on Monday morning.
'It was not a bunny-in-the-pot routine!' I protest, remembering that I saw Fatal Attraction with Darcy and Ethan. Darcy had major issues with the whole premise. She kept saying how unrealistic it was-no man would cheat on his wife with a much-less-attractive woman. I guess I am disproving her theory.
'Oh no?' Ethan deadpans. 'Well, perhaps a variation on that theme. More subtle though. You just exerted slight pressure… and let him know that it is unacceptable to continue relations with his fiancee.'
'Well, anyway… it's over,' I say, realizing that those two words lump me right in with a hoard of naive women who say it's over while praying it's not, looking for any shred of hope, insisting that they only want closure when what they really want is that one last conversation disguised as seeking closure while they work to keep the door open for more. And the pathetic truth is I do want more. I wish I could undo the confrontation at the Talkhouse. I should not have said a word to Dex. I feel an ache of worry that he is going to stop seeing me altogether. He will probably decide that it's not worth it, the situation is just way too complicated.
'It's over, huh?' Ethan asks dubiously.
'Yes.'
'Bravo,' Ethan says in his finest English accent. 'Way to take a stand.'
'So, anyway,' I say, as if it is easy for me to transition away from Dex.
'Yeah. So anyway. Are you coming to London the week of the Fourth?' he asks.
I had mentioned it as a possibility in a recent e-mail, before Dex and I had established our date. Now I don't want to leave. Just in case things aren't completely over. 'Um, I doubt it. I already committed to the Hamptons,' I say.
'Won't Dex be there?'
'Yes, but I still want to get my money's worth out of the share.'
'Right. Uh-huh.'
'Don't say it like that.'
'Okay,' he says, changing his tone. 'But are you ever going to visit me? You blew me off after your bar exam too. Because of that Nate guy.'
'I willVisit. I promise. Maybe in September.'
'Okay… But the Fourth would have been fun.'
'It's not even a holiday there,' I say.
'Yeah. It's funny the way the Brits don't celebrate our independence from them… But it's a holiday in my heart, Rachel.'
