Chapter 39
39
Lucy
“How are your feet?”
Nat peeks down to the marble floor just at the edge of the large glass door leading out to the luscious lawn, the tips of her freshly polished toes peeking through her peep-toe pumps. “They’re fine. Why?”
“Just making sure they aren’t getting cold.”
She responds with an eye roll and a long gaze outside, where a white gazebo sits at the end of a makeshift walkway. Hayden stands at the end, listening intently to the wedding planner who looks frazzled as she’s wrangling the groom and groomsmen, her hands waving in front of her like she’s explaining something to a classroom full of kindergarteners at circle time. Hayden glances at Nat with an exasperated look, and his eyes cross as he makes a cheesy grin at his bride to be. “They’re pretty warm.”
I glance to Hayden’s left, where Dexter and the other groomsman, Ashton, are standing. I look at Dexter, and he glances in our direction. Right where Nat, Carmen, my dad, and I are waiting patiently. He has his hands linked in front of him, one hand gripping the opposite wrist, and he lifts a hand and waves at me. It’s subtle and quick, but it’s only for me.
I smile, unable to resist the silly grin creeping up on my face, and wave back. He smirks, and we continue this silent staring contest, filled with secret smiles and bashful giggles.
“I didn’t know you and Dexter were that close.”
I jerk my head in Nat’s direction. She’s still looking toward the altar, where the men are now at their markers, indicating it’ll soon be our turn to enter the garden.
“I mean,” I say, a little flustered, “we’ve sort of kept in touch since the last time I was in New York.”
A look of indifference covers her face. “Well, obviously. I just didn’t know.”
“But you know, he’s been fun to hang out with while we’re here.”
Nat nods, but she doesn’t say anything else. And I feel my ears getting hot. Should I tell her I think he’s repulsive? Just so I can fend off the scent of something cooking between me and Dexter? Like something about him makes me think he has a tail or webbed toes? (“I don’t know, he just gives off a vibe.” )
“Okay, ladies.” The wedding planner interrupts whatever absurd lie I’m about to spew and approaches us with a clap and an overly eager smile. “When the music cues, I’ll give the signal and maid of honor number two will step off first, followed by maid of honor number one.” She faces Nat. “Then you and father of the bride will count to fifteen and follow.”
We all nod, Nat’s attention shifting to the wedding planner’s instructions. She takes a quick step to my dad’s side, and the four of us do sort of a square dance like tango to take our places. Once Carmen has made her way to about halfway down the aisle, it’s my cue. I step out onto the lush grass, where the sun is streaming down in shiny streaks across the lawn. I step slowly and carefully, pretending like there’s actual music playing, and make sure to walk at a slow, steady pace. When I look ahead at the altar, I see Dexter still looking at me. His gaze is full of intent with a lingering smile twitching his lips.
I take my place on the side of the altar where further instructions will be given, like when to take the bouquet from the bride or when to hand her her little note paper where she wrote down her vows. Nat does her quick procession with our dad by her side, and they do the clumsy exchange where my dad gives my sister away. And the whole process feels so definite. This is actually happening. In less than twenty-four hours, my sister will no longer be just my sister. She’ll be a married woman.
After the fake bits of an invisible officiant are over and Hayden and Nat are given the “you may now kiss the bride” green light, it’s time for me to walk down the aisle again, but this time, with the best man. In true Hayden and Nat fashion, they wave at the empty crowd, where it’ll be filled with the handful of guests scheduled to check in tonight and tomorrow morning. And it’s my turn to link my arm through Dexter’s. He crooks his elbow, offering it to me at the same time a warm blush heats my cheeks.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
“Right?” I say, faking a shocked look of pleasant surprise. “I thought the next time we met, you’d be nursing a horrible case of food poisoning.”
“I guess I should’ve had more faith in convenience store deli.”
I nod in agreement. “Seriously. We need to find out where your trust issues stem from. Did you fall for a phishing email? Or you accidentally signed up for a shopping rewards program the last time you were at Bath & Body Works? If that’s the case, I totally get it.” I lift a brow with a teasing smirk, and Dexter chuckles, with his warm hand covering mine.
Our steps move parallel, his right foot somehow stepping forward at the same time as mine, and he looks at me with those downcast eyes, almost like he’s pleading. Maybe to ask if I want to chance an episode of explosive diarrhea and toilet hugging by trying out the tuna sandwich tonight since the cold cuts are already deemed safe. Or maybe to ask me again to spend time with him. To isolate ourselves somewhere. The beach, a utility closet, a remote island, since we seem to be surrounded by them. And I almost want to say yes. Even though he hasn’t asked me, I want to tell him to whisk me away somewhere. So we can pretend things aren’t the way they are.
We reach the end of the aisle, and it’s time for us to separate. There’s a half of a second where we don’t and we just stand there, but then we’re jolted back to the wedding, the rehearsal, and the glaring heat in the ceremony area when the wedding planner scampers toward us.
“That was great, guys! Tomorrow, you do the exact same thing but with about forty people watching.”
Nat and Hayden grin at each other. “So we’re free to go?” Hayden asks with his eyes on my sister.
“Yup, you guys are free to go. Make sure you’re on time tomorrow and get lots of sleep. Nothing looks more drab than a tired and sloppy wedding party.”
Hayden clasps his hands together. “All right, guys,” he announces to us. “First round’s on me!”
“Hey.” Carmen slinks into the seat next to me, linking her arm through mine.
“Hey.” My voice lacks the usual chirp and energy. I could tell myself it’s the day spent in the humid heat, walking up and down the journey to the altar, that leeched the energy out of me. Or even the hour spent greeting a few family members before my sisters, Hayden, David, Dexter, and I headed to the nearest bar equipped with an open karaoke night and a gorgeous oceanside terrace. I could even blame it on the inquisitive questions our cousin, Jacqueline, kept asking about who the handsome best man is and if he’s single. (I should tell her he has webbed toes.) But I know deep down, my state of fatigue isn’t because of any of those things. It’s Dexter. Dexter, who hasn’t left my side the entire day. Dexter, who manages to somehow keep me calm with his presence yet nervous with the reminder that our minutes are measured.
“How you holding up?” Carmen asks, watching me blankly stare at the round water rings on the raised table. There’s a collection of empty shot glasses, beer bottles, and skinny cocktail straws strewn in front of us, all of it surrounded by the bustling noise one can only find in a dingy dive bar.
My brows scrunch. “I’m good. Why?”
“Just making sure.” She turns away and looks at Dexter from across the room. He’s leaned up against the bar, waiting on his drink order while looking at his phone with a deep scowl. “How’s Janet?”
I sort of shrug. Not in a way that I don’t know about Janet’s wellbeing, but more so that I don’t know how I feel talking about Dexter’s sister. “She seemed okay before we left,” I answer, realizing there are so many implicit words in that simple sentence. Confirming that I was with Dexter before we flew out to Hawaii and that there was a “we” at some point. Maybe still is.
Carmen responds with this silent look as if she’s equally worried and sympathetic. I almost want to tell her everything, right then and there. That this “we” Dexter and I forged without either one of us realizing it is tearing me apart on the inside. That I don’t know how I’m going to be able to go back home after everything and go on like my heart isn’t fragile and a little broken.
Hayden and Nat reach our table, the two of them dizzy from a highly flirtatious game of pool, which Hayden let Nat graciously win. And it doesn’t seem like Nat even noticed how he was pulling his shots with her heart eyes glazed over with love and vodka.
“Next game, me and you,” Nat says, sloppily pointing an index finger at me. I almost want to ask her how many fingers she’s holding up.
“Actually, I think as one of your maid of honors, it’s my responsibility to get you back to our room.”
She huffs. “It’s not even nine!”
“Yet with your tolerance of a teething toddler, you are plastered.”
“Fine,” she forfeits. “I’ll just drink water for the rest of the night.” She plops onto the bar stool, Hayden’s hand hovering somewhere between her butt and her arm to catch her fall. “Oh! Unless we can find some butter mochi.”
I cringe, and Hayden shakes his head in my direction with a silent don’t ask look, right when Dexter sinks into the seat next to me with a fresh bottle of beer.
“What’d I miss?”
I lean toward him. “Hayden let Nat win a game of pool, which she thinks she won fair and square, so she’s considering signing up for the next local pool tournament, Queen’s Gambit style, and now she’s on a hunt to find some butter.”
“Butter?”
I shrug. “I don’t question the bride. I just follow along and hold up her dress while she pees.” I take a quick sip of my margarita. “What about you?”
“Oh, I think Hayden can piss on his own just fine without me holding his junk.”
“I meant while you were getting your drink. And please don’t ever talk to me about my future brother-in-law’s genitalia.”
The pleased, little smirk he had on his face drops, and he pulls at the back of his neck. “I was just checking on Janet. ”
My face changes too, my lips twisting to one side and my eyes downturning into concern. “How is she?”
“Tired,” he answers. “She had a chemo session yesterday, so she’s just resting.”
“But other than that?”
“Uh, yeah,” he answers, his voice teetering between hesitant and a little annoyed. “She seems okay.”
We stare at each other, wanting to say more, wanting to do more but unable to. Instead of saying something, I reach out and place my hand on his thigh. Under the table where no one can see, wanting to reassure him of…I don’t even know what. There’s nothing I can offer him right now. I can’t even offer him comfort or anything beyond touches under hidden surfaces. So I focus on Janet because it’s easier, neutral. “Well, tell her I said hi when you see her.”
He huffs, that hint of annoyance showing a bit more now. “Yeah.”
He turns away, facing the table where his forearms rest and a deep scowl cuts across his face. I see it when he frowns and his jaw twitches. He’s upset, mad. That need to say something tugs at me, and I hesitate.
He pulls out his phone, staring at the screen held between his hands, and I look away. This is how it’s meant to be anyway, right? Him there and me here. I should start getting used to it. But then my phone buzzes on the counter, and when I look down, I see Dexter’s name flash on the screen. I discreetly unlock my phone, sliding it under the table and ducking my head down to read his message.
Dexter: Can we talk later?
I chance a quick glance in his direction. He’s still looking down at his phone screen, focused like he’s reading some fine print on a legal document.
Me: I can’t.
It’s the truth, for the most part anyway. It’s Nat’s last night with me in the same room until she moves on to the honeymoon suite with Hayden tomorrow after the wedding. But if I could sneak away for a few hours in the middle of the night, would it be that difficult? When she’s sleeping…
But is that really the smartest thing to do right now? Should I be playing with the already tattered parts of my heart, clinging to the hope that we can continue this charade without thinking about the consequences? I mean, what’s a completely shattered heart for the sake of a few more stolen moments?
Three dots appear, flashing in sequential order before they disappear and then reappear. And then they disappear altogether at the same time I notice Dexter shoving his phone back into his pocket.
In an instant, the wooden legs from the stool scrape loudly against the floor before Dexter bolts toward the bathroom. I look around the table, but no one’s noticed. Hayden and Nat are still in la-la land, and Carmen and David are picking at a wire basket full of mozzarella sticks and onion rings. I quietly excuse myself, reaching for Carmen’s arm to get her attention with a quick head jerk toward the bathrooms, and follow Dexter.
When I round the corner to where the bathrooms are, he’s there. Not inside one of the unisex stalls but pacing the small space. He lifts his head and our eyes lock. We stay like that, waiting for the other to make a move. And it’s Dexter who does first. He turns toward the exit sign leading toward the back door without a single word, and I follow.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask when the door closes behind me. God, I hope it doesn’t lock from the inside.
He has his back turned to me, and I can see his muscles tense through the thin material of his shirt. “No, Lucy. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You look upset. At me. Why are you upset? ”
He finally turns, and for the first time since I ran into him at that wine and cheese store, I’m scared. I’m scared of what he might say. That he hates me, he never wants to see my face again. Or even worse, he feels the complete opposite, and he doesn’t want to say goodbye. That he wants me to come back to New York with him and go back to this fantasy bubble in his small apartment that smells like him and a little like me now.
“I-I don’t know,” he answers, hesitant with his words.
“Is it Janet?”
“No, Lucy. It’s not.” He groans a frustrated groan, and his hands fist in front of him. “Janet’s…She’s worried about me. About you and me.” He gestures his hand between us. “She told me I should talk to you. And…I don’t even know how to do that when things…” He stops talking, and I want to put my hands on him. On his arm, on his face, anything to calm him down because he looks so shaken and angry.
But instead, I stay quiet. I feel like I can hear my heart beating in my ears, the blood rushing in loud swooshing noises through my head. He looks at me and studies me. He starts crowding toward me, forcing me to step back and hit the cold wall behind me.
“Look, Dexter. I’m sorry about everything. Once the wedding’s done and we go back home, it’ll be easier.”
He laughs dryly. He laughs like I told him some silly little joke.
“What?” I respond flatly. “What is so funny?”
“You really think me being thousands of miles away from you is going to make this easier? You seriously think?—”
“Then what? What do you want from me then?! You want me to drop my life and…” I can’t say the next words. I just can’t. It’s too scary, too daunting when I’m already unsure about so many other things in my life.
“And what, Lucy? What?”
I stay quiet, and my chin trembles.
“What do you want to do? What do you want me to do? ”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice sounding weak and scared.
“Lucy—”
“I don’t know!”
We’re yelling at each other now, and there’s no more anger in our voices. None of the aching, painful resentment that made everything spill to the surface. Instead, we’re both so goddamn sad. So fucking heartbroken over something that was never meant to be.
He takes another cautious step toward me, one hand moving to my waist and the other leaning against the wall behind me. And he enters my space. The space that feels like it’s always been his to invade. Like he never needed an invitation.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispers close to my cheek. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want, just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
This is where I tell him, right? To whisk me off to a private island so we can be alone and away from all the confusing and unsure thoughts in my head. To tell me everything’s going to be just fine as long as we follow our hearts. But we can’t. We can’t act like life isn’t going to keep happening around us. As if he doesn’t have a home to get back to in New York City and I don’t have my own in Seattle.
“I don’t know, Dexter,” I finally say, looking into his sad, desperate eyes.
His eyes close, and he scowls like he’s angry and hurting at the same time. “Yeah,” he whispers, exhaling a deep sigh through his nose.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry this happened. Maybe we shouldn’t have—maybe we shouldn’t have let things go this far. I’m so sorry it did.” The shakiness is covering my entire body now. In my legs, my hands, and I keep trembling. I can’t stop.
Dexter watches me. He watches me fall apart and start to cry. His eyes trail a tear that trickles down my cheek, and he gives into the impulse to touch me. He cups the side of my face and wipes at the tear with his thumb. “I’m sorry too.”