Mrs. X
I tucked it in an envelope and dropped it in my out-box.
I was drafting a reply to the artist working on a gift card campaign when my desk phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting and heard a reply in a familiar French accent.
“Eva, it’s Jean-Fran?ois Giroux.”
Sitting back in my chair, I said, “Bonjour, Monsieur Giroux.”
“What time is best for us to meet today?”
What the hell did he want from me? I supposed if I wanted to know, I’d have to follow through. “Five o’clock? There’s a wine bar not too far from the Crossfire.”
“That would be fine.”
I gave him directions and he hung up, leaving me feeling somewhat whiplashed by the call. I swiveled in my chair, thinking. Gideon and I were trying to move forward with our lives, but people and issues from our pasts were still trying to hold us back. Would the announcement of our marriage, or even an engagement, change that?
God, I hoped so. But was anything ever that easy?
Glancing at the clock, I refocused on work and returned to writing my e-mail.
I was down in the lobby by five after noon, but Cary hadn’t arrived yet. As I waited for him, my nerves started getting to me. I’d gone over my brief conversation with Cary again and again and knew he was right. I had convinced myself he’d be okay with having Gideon join our living arrangements because I couldn’t imagine facing the alternative—having to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend.
And now there was no choice. I was married. Ecstatically so.
Still, I found myself grateful that I’d tucked my wedding ring into the zippered pocket of my purse. If Cary felt a growing distance between us, finding out I’d gotten hitched over the weekend wouldn’t help.
My stomach twisted. The secrets between us were mounting. I couldn’t stand it.
“Eva.”
I jerked out of my thoughts at the sound of my best friend’s voice. He was striding toward me wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. He kept his shades on, and with his hands shoved in his pockets, he seemed distant and cool. Heads turned as he walked by and he didn’t notice, his attention on me.
My feet moved. I was hurrying toward him before I thought of it, then ran straight into him so hard, his breath left him with a grunt. I hugged him, my cheek pressed to his chest.
“I missed you,” I said, meaning it with all my heart, even though he wouldn’t know exactly why.
He muttered something under his breath and hugged me. “Pain in the ass sometimes, baby girl.”
Pulling back, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
He linked his fingers with mine and led me out of the Crossfire. We went to the place with the great tacos that we’d gone to the last time he had met me for lunch. They also had great slushy virgin margaritas, which were perfect on a steamy summer day.
After waiting in line about ten minutes, I ordered only two tacos, since I hadn’t hit the gym in way too long. Cary ordered six. We snagged a table just as its former occupants cleared away, and Cary inhaled a taco before I’d barely taken the wrapper off my straw.
“I’m sorry about the voice mail,” I said.
“You don’t get it.” He swiped a napkin across lips that turned sane women into giggling girls when he smiled. “It’s the whole situation, Eva. You leave me a message telling me to think about sharing a place with Cross, after you tell your mom that it’s a done deal and before you fall off the face of the earth for the weekend. I guess however I feel about it means jack shit to you.”
“That’s not true!”
“Why would you want a roommate when you’re living with a boyfriend anyway?” he asked, clearly getting warmed up. “And why would you think I’d want to be a third wheel?”
“Cary—”
“I don’t need any f**king handouts, Eva.” His emerald eyes narrowed. “I’ve got places I can crash, other people I can room with. Don’t do me any favors.”
My chest tightened. I wasn’t ready to let Cary go yet. Someday in the future, we’d be heading our separate ways, maybe only seeing each other on special occasions. But that time wasn’t now. It couldn’t be. Just thinking about it screwed with my head.