She sat next to me without invitation. “This is some party. I don’t think I’ve ever been to anything like it before.”
I hummed noncommittally.
“Any idea who threw it?”
I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. But whoever did has too much time on their hands.”
A quiet chuckle. “Just saw Dex. You know, it makes me crazy that he barely talks to me when you’re around.”
“I can imagine that would be difficult for you,” I snarked.
“I’m sure someday, you’ll be there for yourself. We all know Dex isn’t meant to settle down. He’s going to be like George Clooney and not settle down until he’s fifty.”
I didn’t react, didn’t argue, just worked to keep my breath even and my lips quietly smiling. Hurry up, Dex. If for nothing else than that drink.
“Another girl will come along, someone new. Different. Someone who isn’t you or me or any of us,” she said. “Somebody like her.”
My heart stopped when I saw him edge his way into a pack of men clustered around a small, smiling blonde. She looked like a little angel with a face brimming with hope and a smile teeming with innocence. And then he handed her my drink.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“Elsie Richmond. She just moved here from California. And the wolves smell fresh meat.”
Dex sidled up to her, smiling that smile. The smile that was mine.
And I found myself unable to breathe.
“You see, that’s the thing you never did get, Stella. Dex isn’t yours, and he isn’t mine. You can pretend all you want that your arrangement with him is fine, just fine, but I, for one, know better. These kinds of things only work when both parties are on board. And you, honey, are not even at the station.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat stuck. I removed my gaze from Dex to look at Dominique, expecting to find her mocking. But she wasn’t. Behind her small smile was sadness, her eyes colored with understanding. Camaraderie. Solidarity. And a touch of pity.
“I knew walking into it that he was never going to be mine. But I don’t think you did.”
I didn’t want to admit she was right. I looked back toward the crowd. The other would-be suitors had given up and wandered off, leaving the two of them alone. It was unlike him to approach someone so brazenly while in my company. An unspoken rule he’d employed out of respect for my fealty. And to break that gave a weight and truth to her words that settled in me like sour milk.
“Why do we always want what we can’t have?” I asked, my gaze lingering on the two of them.
Dominique sighed. “Because men like him make us believe we’re special. Different. It’s how they lure us in, and it’s how they hold us captive.” She stood, smoothing her dress. “Don’t feel bad, Stella. I’m a sucker too.”
With a pained smile and a nod, she turned and walked away.
I held the end of a glass of champagne in numb fingers, watching Dex as he took Elsie’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. My relationship with him clicked and fluttered in my thoughts. And the last frame was Dex smiling at Elsie.
This wasn’t what I wanted. Not at this cost. I wasn’t a plan B. I wasn’t a fancy dress he could take out and twirl around.
I was tired of being convenient.
And I wasn’t going to do it anymore.
I tossed back what was left in my drink and stood. Turned for the bar and put one foot in front of the other. I packed all of the inevitability away, replacing it with determination, having found my pride under layers of fluffy stuffing.
Because I was through.
All I had to do was tell him.
It was nearly midnight, the moon high and the spirits higher. We were a smiling band of merriment, waiting for that moment of hope, the transition into something new.
Dex had wandered back to me, but my friends made a shield of social excuses to keep me moving in the opposite direction of him. We spent a long time at the brook racing champagne corks, the distraction welcome. Because I didn’t know if I could keep my feelings inside, and the last thing I wanted to do before the stroke of the new year was talk about this. The confusion on his face pleased me. But I noticed he’d stayed away from Elsie for the rest of the night.
Everyone was on the platform in the last few minutes of the year, waiting.
“You okay?” Betty asked, squeezing my hand.
I nodded, hoping my smile was assuring. “Are you sure you can’t kiss me at midnight? It just feels like bad luck.”
She was about to answer, but whatever she would have said died in her throat. “Might be bad luck anyway.”
I felt him behind me, that familiar hand in the notch of my waist.
“Hey,” he said, smiling when I looked up at him. “I’ve barely seen you all night.”
“We had some very serious gambling happening in the cork races. Somebody had to keep the peace,” I joked over the sound of my drumming heart.
He chuckled, moving to kiss me, but I turned my face to land his lips on my cheek. When he backed up, he was frowning. Taking my hand, he pulled me until we were flush. Gazed into my upturned face, tracing its shape with his eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged as the energy in the crowd rose.
I tried to smile, searched for the words to deny it. But my chin flexed instead. Tears pricked my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Confusion and worry drew his brows together. A flash of fear shot like a comet behind his eyes. “What? What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing has happened. You’ve stayed exactly the same, and I haven’t. I’ve been pretending for a long time that this—you and me—could be more. That someday, you’d come around, that you’d realize you wanted more. But you haven’t. You won’t. And that’s okay, Dex. You’ve always been honest with me, but I haven’t been honest with you.”
He cupped my jaw, held it like it was a precious thing. “Stella, I’m not just with you because you’re familiar and convenient. I’m with you because I care about you. I can’t give you what you want, all the hearts and flowers and promises. I can’t promise you love. Because I can’t promise you something I don’t believe in. But I always come back to you. I’ll always come back to you.”
The crowd began to count down from ten as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“I understand if you don’t want that. And I’ll accept it, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Neither do I, but—”
“What can I do? What else can I give you? I can keep the rest of them quiet, ignore them when we’re together. I can put it all away if it helps. I can give you more of me. But please, please don’t go.”
For a long moment, we stood there, searching.
“Three, two, one … happy New Year!”
Fireworks burst like cannons as everyone kissed for good luck. He thumbed my bottom lip with pained eyes and descended for a kiss.
It was a kiss of wishes and hopes, of pleading and desire. And when it broke, he pulled me into him and whispered a single word.
“Please.”
And even though I knew better, I lied to us both.