Page 116 of Unbreakable
“Go have fun,” Meghan grinned. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“Call me,” I said. “Jeanine needs a break.”
The look Jeannie gave me right then was worth the expensive shoes, the dress rental, and every bit of coordination this night took.
I managedto get a reservation at a hard-to-get-into Italian restaurant. We nestled into a semi-circular booth facing the bar, the décor like a dark Tuscan grotto. We ordered a selection of small plates and shared dry gin martinis.
“I know things haven’t been perfect lately,” I said, taking her hand. “But I want to make it through with you.”
Jeannie’s lips twisted, looking down at our joined hands. “Even though this time sucks, it’s probably good we’re talking about stuff now.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “Not to bring up administrative shit on a date, but we just need to pick a time with the couples therapist. I have a few options.”
J’s eyes sparkled. “You already made arrangements?”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes going glassy.
“Happy to do it, baby.” My eyes started to mist too. “This has been hard, but I’m happy with where we’re headed. I think we’re going to be better than ever.”
“I think so too,” she said through a trembling voice. “I love you so much, Dylan.”
“I love you too. There’s no one else I’d rather fight it out with.”
She laughed. “Even when I’m furious with you?”
I grinned. “Even when you’re mean and scary.”
She slapped my arm. “Dick. You know what dumbass shit Rachel sent me from the internet? Someone tweeted that you look like you’re a good listener.”
I dropped my mouth open. “What do you mean, Jeannie? I’m a great listener!”
She pursed her lips and I cackled. “To what you want to hear.”
“To everything!” I objected, knowing I was yanking her chain and pissing her off.
“Lies, lies, lies. Are you going to tell our therapist you’re a pathological liar, or are you going to make them figure it out for themselves?”
“Figure it out,” I said, taking a smug sip of my martini. “Are you going to tell them you’re a brat who thinks California’s better than everywhere else?”
“Well, California is better,” she said in her best valley girl accent. “And you like it when I’m bratty so you can call me your bratty little hole.”
The waiter had somehow approached our table with the stealth of a cat burglar, our first round of small plates in hand. I struggled not to spit out my drink. The waiter’s face went bright red. “Anything else I can bring you right now?”
“No, that’ll be hole,” I said, then froze. “I mean all! I mean all! That’ll be all!”
The waiter turned tail and practically sprinted away from our table as we fell out laughing.
“Dylan, I swear to god. Now our sex life is going to be on the internet too.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “And everybody’ll be jealous of that good, bratty hole I’m getting.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If this drink weren’t so good, I’d throw it on you, asshole.”
I lifted an oyster shell and encouraged her to do the same. We cheersed them, and I added, “Don’t forget. You’re the hole, not me.” Then I winked and sucked back my oyster.
FORTY-FOUR
