Wanderlust (8 page)

Monica

“Last May, I guess it was,” I mumbled.
Crap! So much for The Plan
, I thought to myself, struggling to keep up with the small talk.

“Just missed you. I moved out here at the end of April,” he replied.

I nodded absently.

Especially after the elaborate story I’d told, I simply couldn’t think of a way to backtrack—
Oh, just kidding! It’s really my grandmother’s ring!
—without sounding like a total moron. I’d have had to confess that I’d been pretending to be engaged because I’d thought he was engaged, and when he asked why I thought he was engaged, I’d have had to admit that I’d Googled him. We could have been casting flirty glances at each other, making plans for another date, making out like teenagers in front of the whole bar.

But no, I’d messed that up.

What was worse was that he was becoming steadily more attractive the longer we talked. He still had that easygoing, relaxed sense of fun that I remembered from college. He’d filled out some since then, but I could tell he was still in really good shape. Back in college, I loved running my hands up and down his toned swimmer’s arms. Briefly, I pictured myself doing it again, but pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the conversation. He smiled a lot, and his green eyes twinkled, but he was attentive—I could tell he was really listening to me and enjoying our conversation. It was an extremely sexy combination.

And I was engaged to my gay roommate.

The waiter stopped by our table to pick up our now-empty glasses, and gave us a questioning look.

“You want another one?” Jason asked me.

“Umm, sure. You willing to stick around a bit longer?”

“Nothing I’d rather do,” he replied, that sexy smile lighting up his face.

The waiter nodded politely in response to Jason’s request for two more of the same. Inside my head, I was screaming at myself.

Okay, Destiny. You got me this far. I admit, I screwed up. How about giving me a hand and helping me out of this situation?

“So,” he said, “tell me more about your adventures. Where’s one place you haven’t been yet that you’d really like to go?”

“Hmm, quite a few places. There’s a Hindu temple complex on Java called Prambanan. I’ve been on the island twice, but both times I didn’t go there, which is sort of ridiculous. And I’d really like to go to Afghanistan, mostly, I guess, just to say I’d been there. But it’s not exactly tourist friendly at the moment.”

“No, I hate to think of you traveling in places like that. What’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Oh, gosh, let me think … once, when I was in Calcutta, I met this guy who invited me to his cousin’s wedding …” I rambled on about the two days I’d spent as an unexpected guest at a wealthy Hindu wedding, the irony of talking about a wedding in the wake of two non-engagements not lost on me. I segued into my story about being on a tourist bus from Laos to Vietnam, only to realize that it was actually run by smugglers, and the bus was stuffed full of contraband items.

Jason shook his head in admiration. “This is just amazing. I never realized you had such an adventurous side.”

I felt stab of … what? Anger? Resentment?
You might have realized if you hadn’t been trying so hard to keep me from going anywhere
, I found myself thinking.

Maybe my feelings showed on my face; there was an awkward silence for a moment. I groped for something to say.

“What about you? Any interest in traveling?” I asked.

“Yeah, it sounds great. I’d love to do something like that. I’m just not sure how I’d make it work with my job.”

I nodded sadly, but tried to put encouragement into my voice. “Well, plenty of people just go places for a couple of weeks.”

This was true, though I’d always thought it was crazy to spend thousands of dollars and maybe a full day or two in transit, only to turn around and go home a week or two later. I considered myself lucky to have the luxury of being able to spend weeks, or even months in a single place, getting to know the area and the locals, seeing sites at my leisure, not combining jet lag with a desperate effort to see everything there was to see before time ran out.

“Like what you’ll be doing, I guess, after you get married,” Jason responded.

Despite myself, I could feel the smile fade from my face, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. I’d been back in the States less than two months and I was already itching to be on the road again. “Yeah, I guess,” I replied.

No, there was no future here with Jason or anyone else. The thought of tying myself down to a single place and hitting the road only now and again when it worked for someone else’s schedule was depressing. I twisted the ring absent-mindedly. It felt protective now, as if it was keeping me from jumping into something I’d end up regretting.

Thanks, Destiny. That wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I guess it puts things in perspective.

Jason

Once again, some of the light went out of her face when she talked about settling down. She must really love this guy if she was willing to give up something that meant this much to her. I’d given up any right to judge or offer advice ten years ago, but part of me wanted to ask if she was really ready for this.

We were silent for a moment, and it occurred to me that now might be a good time to broach the subject of Amber and apologize once and for all, but the subject felt so awkward and so serious that I just couldn’t make myself do it.

I sucked down the last sip of my beer. “Want to think about getting some food?” I tried to keep myself from sounding too eager.

She shook her head. “No, I should get back. Stephen’ll be home by now, and I need to make dinner.”

I felt a twinge of resentment for this guy who couldn’t get his own dinner, but obviously that was unreasonable of me. We got the check, which I paid, despite her protests. I helped her on with her coat, trying not to linger over the process too long.

“Thanks. I had a great evening. It was really nice to catch up with you,” she said, her enormous brown eyes looking at me with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. She didn’t look unhappy, but there was something there. Seriousness, sadness … Or maybe just nostalgia.

“It was really great seeing you again. You look as beautiful as ever.” I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and gave her hand a quick squeeze, feeling the ring, sharp and cold, beneath my fingers. “And tell this man of yours that if he’s not good to you, he’ll have to answer to me.” I meant this last bit to be lighthearted, but I think it came out sounding more serious than I’d intended. She smiled, though, at my attempt at humor.

We walked outside, and I was lucky enough to be able to hail her a cab almost immediately.

“Let’s get together again soon,” I said, holding the door for her.

“I’d like that.” She smiled at me, her face glowing for a moment in the streetlight, before the door slammed and she disappeared into the night.

Monica

When I got home, Stephen was sprawled on the living room couch, reading a book. Leftover Chinese takeout was on the kitchen counter. Just as well; I didn’t feel like cooking.

Stephen looked up eagerly as soon as I walked through the door. “Well? How did it go? Did you get to meet his woman?”

I shook my head, kicking off my shoes at the door and hanging up my coat. “You’re not going to believe this. I told him this great story about how I met my rich, handsome fiancé on a rooftop cafe in Hong Kong, so romantic, blah, blah, blah, then he goes and tells me that he
was
engaged, but his girlfriend dumped him after he moved here, because she didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship.”

For a moment he just stared at me, then he shook his head and hooted with laughter. “Didn’t want a long-distance relationship! Wow. Karma’s a bitch, huh?”

“Sounds like his ex-girlfriend was, too. And no, the irony of the situation was not lost on me.”

He nodded toward the countertop. “Help yourself. Mu shu something or other. So did you tell him you’re really single and desperate and ready to jump him after just one pomegranate martini?”

I grabbed a plate and helped myself to some of the Chinese food. “It’s kind of creepy how you know about the pomegranate martini.”

“Vodka tonics at home, ridiculous martinis when you’re out. You’re very predictable. Speaking of, join me for something?”

“No, thanks, already had a couple. Anyway, no. I was too embarrassed to fess up. I mean, I’d
just
told him all about you. And I made you sound pretty good, too.”

“How could you not?” He shrugged.

“I feel so stupid. You’re supposed to talk me out of my hare-brained schemes, you know.”

Stephen nodded sagely. “It occurred to me that sooner or later this might end up being my fault. Therefore, it is of course my responsibility to get you out of it. But how, I wonder?” He rubbed his chin, looking like a caricature of someone thinking deeply.

I took a stool by the counter and swiveled around to face him while I ate. Stephen wouldn’t have minded me sitting in the armchair, but I lived in fear of spilling something on one of his priceless carpets. “I suppose I just have to own up to lying about being engagement and deal with the embarrassment,” I grumbled, cringing inwardly at the thought of confessing to my lie.

Stephen looked momentarily disappointed at such a practical resolution, then he brightened up. “Yes! Brilliant! And then you fall in love all over again, get married, move into the apartment that’s available downstairs, and I get to be godfather to your kids!”

I sighed. “Well, that’s probably not going to happen, either. I’m going to Thailand, remember? On Valentine’s Day, no less—and it sounds like he’s pretty committed to his job. He works for Duncan & Bourne—heard of it?”

He snorted. “Of course I’ve heard of it. Among other things, Patrick had a friend who worked in their design department. Probably still does, I guess. Sounded miserable. Real type-A, workaholic sort of place.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I
am
one to talk. Type-A workaholic I may be, but I
like
what I do, and when the investment banker has more fun at his job than the graphic designer, we’re talking serious ruthless bastard territory.”

“Huh. Jason seemed to really like it. Went on about what a great opportunity it was and how much he was learning.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. It’s the big time as far as ad agencies go. Well, maybe the Chicago branch isn’t quite as big time as the New York office, but it’s up there. Your boyfriend must be a real go-getter.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I took a bite of mu shu pork and shook my head at the take-out containers. “I can’t believe that you have the world’s most amazing kitchen and all you eat is take-out.”

“You’re so trying to change the subject.” He grinned slyly at me.

“I just feel like an idiot, okay? Although, I’m not really sure why it’s that big a deal.”

“Hmm, speaking of big deals, did you by any chance broach the delicate subject of a certain threesome he tried to involve you in?”

I sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “No. I just couldn’t figure out how to work it into the conversation. I mean, it just would have felt weird to suddenly say, “Now, about that girl you wanted me to sleep with—”

“Yes, I’d find that a bit awkward myself.”

I stuffed another bite of Chinese into my mouth and glared at him, not sure if he was making fun of the situation or not. I swallowed. “What’s the point? It’s not like we were going to get involved again anyway.”

“Oh, right. Because you’re running away to Thailand in, like, three weeks, and couldn’t possibly have time to go on a date or something before then.”

“There’s going on a date and there’s getting involved. And I’m not ‘running away.’ It’s my job.”

“A job that has kept you most conveniently unable to form any long-term relationships. At least not with any straight guys.”

“I think I’ll have that drink after all,” I said, annoyed. I made a move to stand up, but he was on his feet ahead of me and headed for the liquor cabinet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” he said. “Vodka tonic coming up.”

“Look, even if we did somehow resolve everything and get back together—plenty of big
if’s
there—he’s not going to leave a career he’s worked so hard for so just he can go backpacking in the developing world.”

“Well,
you
go backpacking in dusty little countries no one’s heard of, and
you
have a career.”

“You just finished telling me what a great opportunity he has here. I can’t imagine he’s going to quit this great job to come hang out in Southeast Asia, and it doesn’t sound like he’s gotten any better at long-distance relationships than he used to be. And most people
have
heard of Thailand,” I added.

“But you totally have the hots for him, right?” He grinned wickedly at me.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, thinking about how gorgeous Jason was. “Oh, my God! So many times, I’ve thought about him and wondered if I’d still think he was as hot as I did in college. You know, maybe I was just remembering everything through rose-colored glasses? But he’s actually hotter that he was in college. He’s sexy and smooth and confident, and he’s a good listener—”

“Stop. You’re going to make me fall in love with him, too.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, so here are your options, as I see them: fess up that you lied, deal with the embarrassment and see where things go,
or
stay ‘engaged,’ stay just friends, and settle for that resolution you want so badly.”

“Maybe I should tell him I caught my fiancé in bed with another man and throw myself into his arms for comfort,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“If only. I think this web’s getting tangled enough. Let’s not put any more ‘misunderstandings’ in play unless we have to, okay?”

I sighed, feeling serious again. “So you think it’s resolution versus the potential for hot sex and possible heartbreak?”

He nodded. “About sums it up.”

“I suppose resolution would be the healthier choice,” I sighed.

Stephen handed me a frosty highball glass. “There’s no right or wrong here, roomie. Romance might be more of a risk, but it’s just as legitimate. On the other hand, this guy let you down once before. Maybe just coming to terms with that once and for all and moving on, really would be the better option.” He gave me a sideways glance. “But as your therapist and financial advisor, I am obligated to remind you that honesty is the best policy.”

“Oh, quit being self-righteous!” I snapped, long-buried feeling suddenly breaking out into the open. “Your first boyfriend didn’t try to get you to sleep with another woman just to prove you loved him!”

There was a silence. I was about to apologize but Stephen spoke first. “Maybe resolution is what you need,” he said gently.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” I said quietly. The adrenaline rush of being with Jason and trying to keep my story straight suddenly gave way to sadness. I put down my plate and moved over to the armchair with my vodka tonic. “I really loved him, you know. I know it was a long time ago and everything, but he meant a lot to me. And then—I felt like he betrayed me.”

“I think it’s safe to say he
did
betray you, girlfriend.”

“I’m actually not sure if he slept with her or not.”

“Even if he didn’t, he betrayed you by taking advantage of your trust.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I nodded. “For a long time, I waited for him to say he was sorry, but he never did.” I was silent for a moment. “Anyway, so how do I go about getting resolution here?”

Stephen looked contemplative. “Well, now that you’ve gotten your catching-up-with-each-other’s-lives chat out of the way, how about you just meet up with him someplace quiet where you can talk and say, ‘Hey, so why did you try to get me to sleep with this other girl?’ See what he says.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

He shrugged. “Well, I mean, he could do anything from apologize, to make a joke about it, to just ignore you—I can’t promise you’ll get the answer you’re looking for. But I think you owe it to yourself to try.”

I nodded vaguely. Stephen was right: I did need to talk to Jason.