Page 81 of If the Stars Align
I didn’t want Dex to be right. I didn’t want to have to tell him that our story ends the way he predicted—with me choosing Jeremy.
But none of that matters now. Dex is with Ava Elwood. They’ll probably get married. Start a family.
They’ll have the mostgorgeouschildren.
Dex and Ava make sense.
Just like Jeremy and I do. We live in the same city. We have the same job. We want the same things out of life. He can’t wait to save up enough money to buy a house. And the other day,he mentioned how much fun he thought it would be to take his kids to a baseball game. He’s always saying things like that. We’re a perfect match.
And from now on, I can spend all the time I want with him, guilt-free. Whatever happens between us, happens.
Jeremy’s on a work trip this week, assisting a partner with depositions for a case in Wisconsin, so I have to wait until Friday to see him.
When I get to his apartment, I’m already two glasses of wine ahead of him because I needed to drink while getting dressed, to soothe my nerves. I’d left work at 6:00 p.m., earlier than I usually do, and gone home to wash and blow-dry my hair, which I’ve continued to wear straight since Paris. After my shower, I put on jeans—and a wrap sweater for easy access.
Just in case.
The wine must not have helped, though, because I’m still nervous as hell walking into Jeremy’s place. My mind is swirling with what-ifs.
What if I sleep with him tonight?
What if the sex isn’t good?
What if it is?
What if I’m delusional, and Jeremy doesn’t actually want me at all?
What if Dex breaks up with Ava, and he comes begging for me?
What happens then?
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want Mexican or Thai, so I ordered both,” Jeremy says. “I know how much you love Middle Eastern, but we had it twice last week, so Ifigured you might be tired of it.”
He can’t see me because he’s in the kitchen, opening bags of takeout while I take off my shoes by the door. So I close my eyes and take a deep breath in an attempt to clear my head before I join him.
“Well, I can never get enough Middle Eastern food,” I say as I’m walking into the kitchen to survey the spread on his countertop. “But everything you ordered looks delicious. This is alotof takeout, though.”
Jeremy shrugs. “We’ll have leftovers for tomorrow. Do you know what you want?”
I nod. “Thai.”
“Good,” he says, like there was only one right answer to his question. “Me too.”
Jeremy pours us two glasses of Riesling as I fill our plates. Then we sit on his couch. He turns on the TV, and we decide on one of those home renovation shows. While we watch, we talk about our workweeks and eat our noodles, taking occasional sips of wine.
I only make it through half my meal. I hardly have an appetite, and my mind is still busy, so I put down my plate, hoping more wine will help drown out my thoughts.
“You okay?” Jeremy asks, nodding toward my leftover pad Thai. “You didn’t eat much.” He doesn’t look at me, and I can tell something’s weighing on him.
Just like it’s weighing on me.
I take a sip from my glass, then turn to him. “Did you see the headlines this week?”
Jeremy sets his food down. “About Mr. Hollywood and his new girlfriend? Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I figured you’d be pretty devastated.”
His eyes are narrowed. His brow is furrowed. His jaw is clenched.
He’s upset. He’s reacted this way the last handful of times I’ve mentioned Dex.
