by Megan Hart
We were engaged.
For the second time in my life, I called my parents, my brothers, my grandparents, to tell them all I was getting married. My voice shook and I dissolved into semihysterical laughter with every one of them. Sarah greeted the news with a predictable shriek and demands for a bachelorette party, though we hadn’t even set the date. By the time I got off the phone with her, I had less than an hour to shower and get dressed for work.
Hastily, I logged onto my Connex account, which had languished in past months. I’d been spending so much time with Alex in real time I hadn’t put much effort into my virtual relationships. I hadn’t, in fact, even added him to my page. Hadn’t even asked him if he had something as silly as a Connex account. I quickly uploaded one of the decent shots from the night before, one in which the ring and my hand obscured most of our faces, and no private parts were showing. Then I switched my relationship status from “single” to “engaged.”
I stared at my updated profile page for a few minutes with a giddy grin. Somehow, even more than the ring, putting it out there like that for the entire world to see somehow made it all more official.
The girls at Foto Folks all squealed over the ring, which was twice the size of any they had. If they had envy, they hid it well, or I chose not to see it. I walked around the entire day with a silly grin plastered on my face, showed the ring off to every customer, and took some of the best damned shots I ever had there. I cooed over babies in a way I’d never done. Babies seemed more real than they ever had before. I complimented even the most garish choices for the boudoir pictures, happy for the women who’d never have thought of taking shots like this for themselves, but would do it for someone they loved.
I floated through that day, each sight of my ring sending another thrill fluttering through me. I was engaged! I was getting married!
I worked until closing and declined an offer to go out for drinks to celebrate; I endured the good-natured ribbing about how now that I was engaged I had to rush home to placate my man instead of hanging with the girls, even though it was mostly true. I promised them another time, and thought they all got it—that rushing home to be with Alex was still new and fresh and desirable. And again, if they had envy, I didn’t choose to see it.
The day had been so warm it was easy to imagine summer on the way, and I slung my jacket over my arm as I went to my car in the mall’s back parking lot. I tensed at the sight of a figure waiting there, but relaxed when I saw it was Patrick. I wasn’t even really that surprised.
“Hi.” My voice still held that floaty, giddy, silly tone I’d been using all day. I was way up there, and nobody was going to make me come down, not even Patrick.
“Can we talk?” He had turned up his collar and he hunched his shoulders, his hands jammed deep into his pockets. He rocked on the balls of his feet. He looked pale and rumpled, unlike himself.
I unlocked my car but didn’t get in. “About?”
I waited for anger and got only a frown. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me yourself.”
I had no reason to feel caught out and didn’t like feeling that way. I tossed my purse and jacket into the backseat but kept my keys jingling in my hand. “We haven’t been exactly chit-chatting every day lately, Patrick.”
“I can’t believe I had to find out from your Connex page.” His voice was thick with grief I thought with some surprise might be genuine. “Me and five hundred of your closest friends. Jesus, Liv. I thought…Shit. I thought I meant more to you than that.”
I remembered once that had been true. I stopped myself from taking a step toward him by digging my keys into my hand. “We haven’t been close for a long time.”
“A few months!” he retorted. “We had a fight, that’s it! And suddenly I’m not on your must-call list? What the hell happened to all those years?”
“I didn’t think you’d care,” I said, but knew it to be a lie. I’d known Patrick would care.
“Not care?” He yanked his hands from his pockets to toss them in the air. “Not care? Dammit, Liv, how can you say that? When I have to find out you’re marrying that asshole—”
“Hey! Don’t you call him that!”
Patrick’s handsome face turned angular. Eyes narrowed, mouth thinned. “You’re making a mistake, that’s all.”
“Like the one I almost made with you, is that it?” I didn’t care if my words stung. I wanted them to gouge and slice.
Patrick flinched. “He will hurt you. I don’t want to see you hurt. I love you, Liv—”
“You,” I said with venom in my voice, “shut the fuck up.”
Patrick took a step back. In the spring, night still falls early. It had been dark when I came out, and the parking lot lamps cast pools of yellow-white light that didn’t flatter him. The breeze came up, chilling me, and I wished I’d put on my jacket, but didn’t bend to reach inside the car for it.
“I’ve always loved you. You know that.” He was brave enough to try again, and though I could still taste my anger, it dissolved under the force of nostalgia.
I did not want to hate him.
“Oh, Patrick. Can’t you just be happy for me, the way I’ve always been happy for you and Teddy?”
He flinched again and cast down his gaze. He scuffed the ground with his toe and shoved his hands back into his pockets. His voice went low and shamed.
“We broke up.”
“Oh, no.” Once I’d have hugged him, but now the ring on my finger made my hand too heavy to lift. “What happened?”
Patrick shot me a twisted, strangled grin. “I fucked up, that’s what happened. I fucked around. Teddy found out. I was tired of lying, of being that person who lied. And I thought he’d forgive me, because Teddy always forgave me.”
I wasn’t sure Patrick deserved compassion, but I was able to find some pity. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry.” He snorted and kicked at the ground again. “Sorry doesn’t start to cover how I feel.”
He looked up at me, gaze bleak. “And then I find you’re marrying that…Alex Kennedy…Oh, Liv. I promise you, he’s not—”
“Shut up, Patrick,” I said, but more softly this time and without heat. “I love him.”
“You used to love me,” he countered. “What happened to that?”
I almost wanted to look around for hidden cameras, sure I was being punked. “You know what happened.”
“At New Year’s you still loved me. That was only a few months ago. You don’t stop loving someone that fast. Do you?”
“You can stop loving someone in a second,” I told him.
His hand dropped, but he still stood much too close. “I’m sorry I ever hurt you, Liv. I really am. I’d do anything to take it back.”
I backed up and pressed against the car’s chilly metal. “Are you fucking kidding me, Patrick?”
“No. I’m not.” He shook his head, sorrow stamped in every line of his face, the shift and sag of his body. “I know I’ve messed up. And I’m sorry…”
I put my hand on his shoulder because putting it over his mouth would’ve been too intimate. “I will always care about you, Patrick. You know that. I’m sorry about you and Teddy, and I know you’re hurting. And what happened between us…it’s the past. I’m not holding a grudge, okay?”
He moved closer, angling his body for a hug I didn’t give at first, until it was either embrace him or push him away. It didn’t last long, and when I didn’t melt against him, he must’ve sensed my reluctance. Patrick stepped back.
“Do you think…you could ever…?”
I stared at him, then laughed. It hurt him more than anything I’d said so far; I could tell by how his mouth turned down and his lip curled. “Take you back? You are not asking me that, Patrick. Are you?”
“Teddy said it was because of you—”
“What? Teddy said…?” This sliced me. “How is it my fault?”
“Not your fault. Because of you. Because of how things happened with us, and what h
appened at New Year’s. Teddy said I was upset by what had happened, and that’s why I was doing the shit I was doing.”
I stabbed the air between us with a finger. “Teddy’s wrong.”
Patrick shrugged. “I thought a lot about what you said that night, Liv. I thought a lot about how that made me feel, that I was jealous of another man for getting what I could’ve had but didn’t take when I had the chance.”
I held up a hand. “I am not your sympathy fuck, okay? Because you want to get laid, or petted, or cuddled, or what-the-fuck-ever.”
We both knew that not so long ago I’d have gone to bed with him if he’d asked. That I’d have tossed aside all reason for a chance at what I thought I wanted. I couldn’t believe he’d ask me this now, but then, I couldn’t exactly be surprised.
“I’m not interested in just a fuck.”
I stared at him long and hard. “You’re off boys, now? Back to women? Or just me?”
Patrick opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He had nothing to say, or at least knew better than to say it. He hung his head. It was the only time I’d ever seen him look so ashamed.
I waited for him to speak or to turn away so I could go. He spoke.
“I’d be better for you than he is.”
“How do you figure that?”
“We’ve known each other longer.”
I laughed with twisted lips. “That doesn’t matter.”
He let his gaze move up, finally, to mine. He looked determined. “I don’t care if you’re still seeing him. I just think we should get each other out of our systems. Admit it, Liv, you’ll always wonder about me.”
“And you’ll wonder about me?” I gave an incredulous laugh, stunned at his audacity. “You had your chance, long ago. You didn’t want it then. You can’t make me believe you want it now.”
“I just can’t believe you’d marry him.”
“Why?”
“You know why,” Patrick said.
I sighed wearily. “You know what, Patrick? Alex has never lied to me about who he is, or what he’s done, which is more than I can say about you. I’m sorry you and Teddy broke up, and I’m sorry we’re not friends anymore. Believe me, I’m sorry about that.”
He crossed his arms over his gut, as if it hurt. “You know I slept with him.”
“Yes, Patrick. I know what you did with him.”
He shivered. “Well, maybe that’s why you like him so much.”
“I don’t like him. I love him.” I moved toward the driver’s side of my car, turning my back. “Fuck you, Patrick.”
“He can be a part of it, if you have to have him so much. I’d fuck him again. He’s a fucking great lay. “
“What?” I whirled, my throat going tight over a surge of nausea.
Patrick shivered again. I tried to remember how much I’d loved him, how he used to make me laugh. It was hard to remember the good times just then, with all the bad staring me right in the face. But there had been good times. Patrick had been my friend. I didn’t know this man in front of me, and I wondered if I ever had.
“Don’t use me to make yourself feel better,” I told him. “Or to prove to yourself you’re something you’re not. Don’t be…Dammit, Patrick, don’t go back to hiding who you are because you think it’s easier. That somehow you can pick up the pieces with me because it’s easier than moving on. Don’t do that to me. Don’t make me your second chance. That’s not love. That’s selfishness.”
Patrick crumbled in front of me. “I’m sorry, Liv. I don’t know why I said any of that. I just miss you so fucking much, I haven’t ever gone so long without talking to you. No matter what happened to us, I never wanted us to stop being friends!”
“So you offer to fuck me and my fiancé?”
He shrugged and swiped at his face. “Everything is such a mess. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know why I’m doing it.”
I’d heard that story once before, when I’d stood in front of him with the ring he’d given me in my palm. “I can’t help you, Patrick. I’m sorry. You have to do this without me.”
Then I got in my car and drove away.
“I could totally get used to this domestic stuff.” I speared a carrot stick into the bowl of hummus before crunching it. When I kissed Alex, he tasted of garlic and oil, a little salt. He handed me the end of the loaf of French bread he was slicing. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Here. Use this.” He pushed a small, shallow plate of shimmering oil toward me. “It’s garlic-infused olive oil.”
“Yum. Where’d you get that?”
“I made it.” He tossed a smile over his shoulder before turning back to the boiling pasta.
I dipped the bread in the oil and tasted. I moaned. “Wow.”
“Good?” Alex dumped the pasta into a fancy metal colander I’d never seen before.
“Delish.” I looked around his apartment, noticing a few more new things. “Did you go shopping today?”
“Yeah. I went down to King of Prussia.” He waved away the steam and settled the pasta on a decorative platter. Then he pulled a crank-wound cheese grater from the counter, added fresh Parmesan and a handful of shredded mozzarella, some pine nuts and some of the oil to the pasta. “Hungry?”
“Starving. We were so busy today I didn’t have time to grab much of a lunch.” I watched him set out the food. “Why’d you go all the way down to King of Prussia?”
“Um, because it’s the only mall worth going to?” Alex carried the platter of pasta over to the dining-room table. “Grab the salad, would you?”
This bowl looked new, too. “Crate and Barrel? Pottery Barn?”
“IKEA.”
“Wow, you were all over the place.” Envy panged me. “I haven’t been to IKEA in forever.”
He looked up. “We can go this weekend, if you want.”
“I have to work on Saturday, and I still have some client jobs to catch up on.”
He frowned and sat. “Shit. Can’t you switch or something?”
“No, it’s my Saturday to work. I told you that.” I got up to grab the basket of sliced bread, and came back to the table.
Alex had already served me some pasta and salad, and I wiggled in pleasure at the service and the prospect of the food. I was lucky he was such a great cook. I had a few dishes I was really good at making, but hardly ever felt motivated enough to cook when it was just me. I was more likely to toss together premade items from the supercenter I grabbed on the way home rather than start from scratch.
Impulsively, I bent to kiss him before I slid into my seat. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being so wonderful.”
Alex had been lifting a serving of salad onto his plate when I kissed him, and his hands stopped halfway. Bits of red and green lettuce fell onto the cranberry-colored tablecloth. He blinked. Then smiled.
“I guess I know the way to your heart.” He dumped the salad and stuck the wooden tongs back in the bowl. “Right through your stomach.”
I let my bare foot nudge his calf. “And other places.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re welcome. You’re not so bad yourself.”
We ate and chatted about our days. His, aside from the shopping, sounded uneventful. A conference call taken on the drive to King of Prussia, a few e-mails sent. He had more travel lined up. The job was due to finish in another month or so.
“Then what?” I ran a slice of bread through the oil on my plate and added some of the delicious, gooey melted cheese from the pasta bowl.
“Then…I find another job, I guess.”
I swallowed the bread and cheese with a mouthful of good red wine Alex wasn’t sharing. “Anything in mind?”
He shrugged and used his spoon to help twirl his pasta. He wiped his lips with his napkin, then drank from his water glass. Watching Alex was sometimes like watching a movie. A picture come to life. Everything he did was so fluid, but precise. I spilled oil down my front. His lips barely glistened fro
m it.
“They might keep me on, who knows,” he said.
I picked apart another slice of bread but didn’t put any in my mouth. I’d eaten too fast, and my stomach was full now though I’d touched barely half of what was on my plate. “It’s nice to see you’re so lackadaisical about it.”
He paused then to give me his full attention. “I know how to work, Olivia.”
“I know you do. I didn’t say you didn’t. I just meant that you don’t seem worried about not finding another job. I’d be freaking out a little bit.”
“I have money.”
“I know you have money,” I said patiently. “But…you should still have a job.”
“If I don’t work, I can stay home all day and be your houseboy.” He ran a finger through the oil and licked it suggestively.
He was teasing, but the gesture still sent heat slip-sliding through me. “Oh, really?”
“Sure. Get me a little thong—” His voice caught for a second, his gaze flickered. He recovered with a drink of water. “You could come home to dinner every night. I’ll be a regular Mr. Mom.”
We’d never spoken much about children, even when I’d told him about Pippa. The thought of an infant with my curls and Alex’s gray eyes seemed startling and distant, not something I’d ever wished for, but once spoken of impossible not to want.
“You do want kids, don’t you?” he said.
“I guess so. Do you?”
Alex set aside his fork, then nodded. “I’d like kids. Yes. It’s time, I guess. Before I get too old.”
I tossed a small hunk of bread at him and he caught it neatly, then tucked it in his mouth. “You’re not old.”
He grinned and chewed, swallowed. “Nah. I know.”
I was quiet for a few minutes as we ate. I thought of the accusations my mother had hurled at me, her words unkind but not unreasonable. “Alex.”
He looked up. “Yeah, babe.”
“You don’t mind that our child wouldn’t be my first?”
He put down his fork. He took my hand. “No, Olivia. Does it bother you?”
I shook my head. I’d come to peace with my decision long ago. I loved Pippa for being on this earth, and I was glad to be a part of her life, but I had no claims to her as a mother. “No.”