I sighed, bringing my head upright. “You don’t think it’s unfair to him, to explore something I might not be ready for?”
“You’ll never know if you don’t try. Renn is a big boy who can make up his own mind. If there is even such a thing as a stable, well-adjusted adult—and the jury is still out on that—but if they exist, I bet those people have shit relationships too. Just like the rest of us plebes. Nothing’s guaranteed, doll. Isn’t that what you said to me at Starbucks a few hours ago? But from what I heard in there, he seems like a solid guy.”
“He is pretty great.”
Zach nodded. “Then how about you just take your time and see how things go? You need to trust that everything he’s telling you is true, especially the part about him being willing to wait. I am saying this as your friend who loves you so much. Get. Out. Of. Your. Own. Head.”
We stayed parked. Clearly, Zach wasn’t going to put the key in the ignition until he was sure I was okay. I thought about our talk this morning.How was it just this morning? He was going to make a fantastic father someday.
“Zach?”
“Hmm?”
“I know I’ve said this before, but I just wanted to thank you again for being there, in Boston.”
“No thanks needed, doll.” He winked.
“No, really. That day was…so dark. You were like the one tiny sliver of light in all that. Just enough light for me to find my way out.”
Zach grabbed my left hand with his right, bringing our joined fingers to his lips. He brushed a soft peck on my knuckles before resting our laced fingers on the center console. “Sadie, you don’t need to keep thanking me. I’m glad I was there. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Me too.”
Today had been a day. Jesus. So much to think about. But I could handle it. I wasn’t in Boston anymore. I wasn’t spending my life in the fruitless pursuit of Henri’s happiness. I could survive an almost-kiss with Renn. And a hot hug. I could listen to him talk to Archie, knowing everything would be far from easy. And, looking at Zach in the driver’s seat, I was sure I could be the friend I wanted to be.
December 31, 2013
As Henri’s workfriends had arrived, it became evident that the reason for my compulsory attendance was to help him paint the picture of blissful domesticity for a senior partner who was visiting the Boston office from San Francisco. Upon introducing me to Jim and his lovely wife, Helena, Henri had played the doting boyfriend so well it had been startling. Zach stood off to the side, scowling like he’d found a roach in his soup. Helena was unlike most of Henri’s friends’ wives and girlfriends. She was older and looked less like a model and more like someone who played the wife in a detergent commercial. I relaxed and made conversation, admiring pictures of her two sons playing soccer and vacationing in Florida. Jim looked pleased to see our connection, and Henri beamed at me from where he and Jim were drinking by the bar.
The older couple left well before midnight, at which point my boyfriend made a beeline for me.
“Sadie, that was amazing! I knew they would love you, how you’re just, like, a regular girl. Jim wants the company to feel like a family, and now that he’s met you and seen us together, I know he’ll consider me for the regional vice president position. I can’t wait to tell my dad.” Henri, tipsy, pulled me to his chest and kissed my cheek, hard and wet. I froze. It had been so long since he’d offered me unchecked praise. “Well done, darling. I love you.”
With that, Henri sneered at Zach and left our table to go over to the bar with his friends. His movements were exaggerated and effusive, as though he’d won the lottery and not merely impressed one of his bosses. Come to think of it, he’d been sort of off all night.
“That was, um, something,” Zach offered.
I raised my hand to my cheek where Henri had kissed it. “I can’t think of the last time he said that to me.”
Zach frowned. “Well, it’s good at least that he can occasionally appreciate you.”
Good? It was weird.
Henri’s praise and declaration of love coursed through my body. Except I wasn’t elated the way I thought I should be. I felt like I wanted to throw up.
I watched Henri across the bar, doing shots with someone named Freddie, who I had mentally nicknamed “Hands” based on the number of times his palm hadaccidentallycontacted my backside over the past few hours. His other friend, Bill, had his hand straight up a woman’s skirt, fingers working underneath the bar top as she giggled and half-heartedly pulled at his wrist. Henri stood between them, an arm thrown over each of their shoulders. When I’d met Henri, I’d been so dazzled by this side of his world. The assuredness of these men. Masters of the Universe. But what had once been intoxicating was now revealed as simply toxic. And maybe it was watching Henri’s red eyes as he took another shot, or maybe it was Zach’s frowning presence, but for the first time I could see things clearly.These guys were dickheads.
No. That was disloyal. And Henri had just told me he loved me, something I’d actually been hoping to hear tonight, even if the script I’d written in my mind had involved privacy and candlelight. Not a sloppy thank-you in an overheated bar.
Those conflicting thoughts were the ones rolling through my mind when the woman in the red dress walked in. She came through the door like a tornado, uncaring of the attention her entrance drew, and I watched her in slow motion as she headed straight for Henri. She looked young, early to mid-twenties at most, long ashen hair haphazard down her back. Her rosy cheeks flushed with anger as she stalked bitterly toward my boyfriend.
“You asshole!” That was her opener, and I envied her ability to not cower under the glare Henri gave her, as though she was hot garbage come to life. He removed his hands from his buddies’ shoulders, making them into fists at his sides, the happy daze he’d been in mere moments ago blown completely aside. The woman was undiscouraged. “Ignoring my texts won’t make me go away!”
I stood far enough away to disengage almost completely, even as I felt Zach fold me into his side. It was simply a movie playing out in front of me. Theatre. Something I was watching from a distance. Watching as she slapped Henri across the face. Watching as she called him a “fucking liar” and a “sleazy used car salesman” and the “worst fucking thing to ever happen to” her. Watching as Freddie and Bill glanced over for my reaction, unsurprised by this unfolding drama, confirming that the woman in the red dress was not unknown to them. Watching as Henri looked urgently toward me, seeking the gaze I had the strength to deny him. Watching when the woman smashed a six-inch white stick down on the counter in front of Henri.
A pregnancy test.
How lucky that I was standing across the room, and not next to Henri. How fortuitous that this happened only minutes after my epiphany that Henri was honestly kind of a dipshit. If not for those things, I don’t know that I could have given the right answer when Zach turned to me and asked gravely,
