Heart of the Matter

“I can’t see it,” Dex says more somberly while Rachel is tellingly silent.

“Are you really worried?” my brother says. “Or is this just one of your weird ‘what if questions?”

“I’m . . . moderately worried,” I say, hesitating, then deciding it’s too late to turn back now. I finish my wine, then confess all my fears, spewing a verbatim account of the mystery text and asking for his candid guy’s opinion. “Honestly. Doesn’t that sound . . . fishy?”

“Well. . . I’m not wild about the ‘thinking of you,’” Dex says, running his hand through his hair. “It definitely sounds like a girl . . . But it really isn’t all that damning. Is that all you have on him?”

“That and the fact that he just seems so distant lately . . .”

Rachel nods, a little too quickly for my comfort, as if to say she noticed the same behavior during their recent visit.

“You see it, don’t you?” I ask her.

“Well . . . I don’t know . . .” she waffles. “Not really . . .”

“C’mon, Rach,” I say, relinquishing my usual competitive feelings about our respective marriages. “Tell me. Did he seem odd when you were in town?”

“Not odd,” she says, exchanging a telling glance with Dex. Clearly they’ve discussed us. “He’s just . . . a little distracted, by nature . . . And I think he’s just really passionate about his work. Which is admirable. But I can see how that could become frustrating for you . . . None of that means he’s cheating, though . . . necessarily.” Her voice trails off, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Dex says, as the bartender serves up their drinks and I order another. “Wouldn’t that be easier? Instead of speculating?”

“What?” I say. “Just bust out with, ‘Are you cheating on me?’”

Dex shrugs and says, “Why not? Rachel’s asked me that question before.”

She hits his shoulder and says, “I have not.”

“Oh, right. That was you I had the affair with,” he says—which marks the very first time he’s openly admitted to their early circumstances. He taps her nose as she gives him a scornful look and begins to blush.

Meanwhile, Cate pretends that this is a shocking revelation. “You two had an affair?” she says, hungry for more scoop.

Dex nods nonchalantly and says, “Pretty much.”

“When you were engaged to that other girl?” Cate asks.

“Yep,” Dex says while Rachel squirms on her stool and says her husband’s name in quiet protest.

“Oh, come on, Rach. What’s the big deal?” Dex says. “That was years ago. We’re married with two kids. . . And we’re all friends again.”

Rachel stirs her drink as Cate’s eyes widen. “You’re still friends with what’s-her-name?”

“Darcy,” Rachel says, nodding. “Yeah . . . we’re friends again.”

“Good friends?” Cate says, aghast, finally reaching her shocked threshold.

“I guess you could say that,” Rachel says with a sheepish look. “Pretty good friends. Yeah.”

“They talk every day,” Dex says matter-of-factly.

“Are you serious?” Cate says.

“Every day,” Dex says. “Multiple times a day. They’re planning a vacation together—a cozy foursome . . . I get to go on a ski trip with my ex-fiancée.”

“Okay. So what’s my takeaway supposed to be here?” I ask wryly. “That if Nick is having an affair, perhaps I’ll have a new best friend? A travel companion?”

Rachel uncrosses her arms and slides an olive off her toothpick, popping it into her mouth. She chews and swallows, then says, “Yeah, Dex. What, exactly, is your point?”

“I dunno,” he says, shrugging. “I just thought we were making confessions here. Tess reads Nick’s texts. And I ... I cheated on my fiancée with you . . .”

Rachel clears her throat and says, “His point, I think, is that even good guys can cheat. . . But it only happens if they’re in the wrong relationship—and only for the right person. And because you and Nick have a great relationship, you really have nothing to worry about.”

Dex nods and says, “It might sound like an excuse . . . a justification. But I think it happens to people. But not if they’re happy. Not if their relationship is where it should be.”

I nod, reaching into my purse for my phone, hoping to see Nick’s name in my in-box, feeling relief when I see that he called me twice in the past hour, then slight guilt for talking about him, albeit with family and my best friend.

“Did he call?” Cate asks.

“Yeah. Twice,” I say, almost smiling.

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