The Marriage Pact (1) (26 page)

“So
did you end it?” Marci asked, hugging one of the couch cushions and glad to be
focused on someone else’s life for a few minutes.

“Not
exactly. I gave him the whole, ‘I’m easily spooked, don’t come on too strong’
speech; told him we shouldn’t rush anything and to wait for my call.”

“And
you’ll be calling him...?”

“That’s
right. Never.”

“You’re
a class act, Suzanne.”

“Hey,
he’s the one who talked to his mother five times over the four days I was out
there. I mean, come on!”

“Maybe
they have a special relationship. Maybe she’s elderly and he needs to check in
with her. Sounds to me like a responsible son.”

“She
has her own aerobics studio! And they talked for like twenty minutes at a
stretch. One time I got so bored waiting for them to finish talking, I started
doing a strip tease in front of him. You know, kind of half-joking, half-‘pay
attention to me, dammit?’ He got all freaked out and said
I
was weird
for putting unclean thoughts in his head while he was talking to his mother.”

“Oh,
wow,” Marci said. “Maybe this time you did the right thing.”

“You
think? Anyway, enough about me. How’s Jakie doing?”

Marci
was quiet for a long minute, and took a deep breath. She told Suzanne
everything, starting with Doug’s surprise visit Thursday night, ending with
Jake ignoring her calls and texts for the last two days. And, of course, her
decision to go talk to Doug at the hotel that evening. At this last revelation,
Suzanne raised her eyebrows, and Marci quickly tried to explain.

“I
mean, he keeps
calling
, and he came all this way to talk to me. I feel
like if I don’t hear him out and settle this with him in person, it will never
be resolved. You know?”

“Not
really,” Suzanne said after thinking for a minute, “but as you know, in-person,
grown-up resolution isn’t really my thing.” They both laughed.

Suzanne
got up to make some tea. “Oh crap!” Marci said, looking at the clock over the
stove. “It’s almost six. I haven’t even showered!”

She
ran to the guest bedroom where she’d been staying and started digging through
piles of clothes on the floor: things she had washed recently, things that were
dirty, things traveling back and forth with her to Jake’s apartment... She
pulled out jeans and a slightly wrinkled V-neck sweater from the “sort of
dirty” pile, and then started looking frantically for clean underwear.

By
the time she got out of the shower, it was quarter past six. She skipped
washing her hair and pulled it up into a messy ponytail instead, hoping to make
up for sloppy hair by at least getting the makeup right. She leaned toward the
bathroom mirror and eyed herself critically, reapplying mascara and comparing
two sets of earrings. As an afterthought, she sprayed a bit of perfume on her
wrists and rubbed both across the skin exposed by the low-cut sweater. She
debated whether to put a tank top on underneath, but decided she didn’t have
time.“Looks like a lot of trouble for a little resolution,” Suzanne commented
from behind her. “You look pretty hot for someone whose fiancé is out of town.”

“Shut
up,” Marci scowled. “Don’t give me a hard time, okay? I’m nervous enough about
this as it is. I just...I just want to get it over with.” She searched for her
favorite lip gloss.

“Mmm...”
Suzanne murmured thoughtfully, and sauntered back to the couch.

“Can
I help it if I want him to regret dumping all over me, just a little? What’s
the harm in that?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s
not like I’m going to sleep with him. I’m going to tell him nothing can happen
between us ever again.”

“Absolutely.”

 “If
Jake were here, I would do the exact same thing I’m doing now. I’d even offer
to take him with me.”

“Does
that include crop-dusting your cleavage there?” Suzanne teased.

“Shut
up.”

“Yes,
ma’am,” Suzanne called as Marci slammed the front door behind her.

The
restaurant at the Hyatt Regency was nicer than Marci anticipated. She felt
underdressed in her jeans and sweater as soon as she walked in. It was also too
romantic for her taste, with an enormous aquarium right in the middle providing
an ambient light, and cozy little tables all around, covered in white linen and
empty water goblets. She debated suggesting that they go somewhere else,
racking her brain for someplace more casual close by, but decided that putting
Doug in her car was just getting her in deeper.

He
was waiting in front of the hostess stand when she arrived, a few minutes late
because of traffic downtown. He hugged her tightly and she was overwhelmed by
the familiarity of his scent, and the feel of his arms. She forced herself to
push back from him and give a polite smile before they followed the hostess to
their table. He ordered a bottle of wine without even asking Marci, saying “I
had a few minutes to look at the wine list,” by way of explanation.

As
usual, all the speeches Marci had prepared on her way down to the hotel had
evaporated from her mind. “So, I gather you enjoyed your tour of my hometown
today?” she said, wanting to be the one controlling the conversation but not
sure how to start.

“I
did, I did,” he said. Before she could speak again, he reached across the table
and took her hand in his. “Marci, I want to apologize for the other night. I
should’ve called you first, and I’m sorry. I just knew how badly I wanted to
see you and I’d been driving all day. Well, I hope I didn’t disrupt things with
your fiancé too badly. At least, I see you’re still wearing
this
.” He
stroked her engagement ring lightly with his thumb.

She
jerked her hand back as though his touch were burning her, but said nothing.
“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

“What
do you want, Doug?” Marci’s voice was the coldest she could muster.

“Marce,
I’m sorry. I keep stepping in it, and all I really want is a chance to talk to
you, to apologize, to try to make things right...”

“Which
things?” she demanded. “What is it you think you can make right?”

He
looked slightly taken aback. Just then the waitress reappeared with their wine
and asked for their dinner orders. Marci had not even looked at the menu, but
Doug ordered anyway. “I’ll have the grilled tilapia, please, and the lady would
like the chicken special. Or did I get it wrong?” He looked at Marci playfully.

She
looked at the menu, hoping to counter his suggestion, while the waitress
fidgeted impatiently. After viewing all the options, she realized that she
really did want the chicken.
Damn it
. She traded out the polenta for
green beans, just to change something, and the waitress twirled away with a
scowl for Marci and a flirty smile at Doug. Some things never changed.

He
must have taken Marci’s angry outburst seriously, because like any good
salesman, he changed tactics. Moved into small talk. What he’d seen that day,
differences between Atlanta and Austin—all complimentary to Atlanta, of course.
She watched the fish behind him darting back and forth through the giant tank.

Then
he transitioned into office gossip. Cristina—the receptionist who had made
Marci jealous all those months ago—and Jeremy were now dating. When Marci asked
whether they seemed happy, Doug shrugged. “I think I heard they’re living
together or something now, so I guess they must be.”
Good for Jeremy
,
she thought.

Victoria
had come out as a lesbian after developing a sudden, serious relationship with
a petite blonde woman who worked for the paper brokerage down on the fifth
floor. She’d cut her hair short (“butch,” Doug called it), and had started
leaving at 5:00 every day instead of working her usual long hours. The firm had
actually had to hire another person to make up for Victoria only doing the
workload of one person, but no one was complaining. She had been profiled in
AustinOut
magazine as one of the top gay executives in the city and the firm had several
new gay-focused clients as a result. Marci thought of Aunt Mildred with a
smile, wondering what she would think of
Out
magazines.

The
biggest news was that one of the partners, Jack Lane (the ‘L’), had resigned
suddenly after a spat with the other three during their monthly cigar meeting.
Jack was the most artistic of the partners and had a reputation for being
temperamental, but he had been gone for two weeks this time and it was looking
serious. “So,” Doug was saying, “we either have to change the name of the firm,
or find someone else with an ‘L’ name to join us.” He laughed as though this
were not a big deal, but his careworn features told another story. Could the
firm survive without Jack’s creative drive?

She
had to catch herself and remember that she didn’t care; this was no longer her
world. She told Doug about the interview she had coming up on Monday, and he
began asking her questions to help her prepare. Marci tried to refuse his help,
to say that she didn’t need his advice, but the truth was she did. Doug was
giving her insight into exactly the kinds of things someone would be asking her
on Monday, and suggestions about how to answer them to her advantage.

Only
when the waitress came to clear their plates did she realize that she hadn’t
even had a chance to tell Jake about the interview yet. She tried not to think
about how he would feel if he knew Doug had heard about it first.

As
if on cue, Doug asked, “Is he good to you?”

Marci
smiled. “The best,” she said, truthfully.

He
winced. “Good. You deserve that.”

“You’ve
always fancied yourself an expert on what I deserve, haven’t you?”

“Do
you still have the necklace?”

With
the slightest twinge of guilt, she remembered watching it sink into the
Mississippi. “It’s in storage.”

“Marci,
I know I can’t undo everything that happened between us.”

“That’s
the understatement of the year.”

“Okay,
okay. Can you just retract the claws a little? I know I’m a jerk, but I came
all this way to talk to you.”

“Fine.”

He
paid the check. She made no move to offer for her share. “Look, I have
something upstairs for you. It’s a letter, explains everything—or at least
tries to explain everything.”

“Why
don’t you give me the highlights?”

“Please,
Marci. I agonized over what to say to you, and I really want to get it right.
I’ve been working on it for two months. It’ll take five minutes.”

Five
minutes. In Doug’s hotel room. “No.”

“You
don’t even have to come inside. You can wait in the hall while I get the
letter, and we’ll come back down here. Or you can leave. Whatever you want.”

When
she stood, her head buzzed from too much wine and the fancy-tiny portion of
food. She followed Doug to the elevators, letting him lead her by the hand.
They said nothing in the elevator, Doug whistling and Marci staring at the
patterned carpet. As he had suggested, she stood outside his hotel room,
feeling silly and puritanical.
A few months ago
, she thought,
how
much would I have given for a night in a hotel room with Doug? Here we are, and
I won’t go in.

He
emerged with a small wrapped box and a thickly folded letter. “What’s that?”

“Don’t
open it now. I just wanted you to know you have options. Here.” The letter was
smooth around the edges, as though he’d read and re-read it many times himself.

They
looked around awkwardly for a place to sit. It seemed silly to go all the way
back down to the noisy lobby. Before he could suggest going into his room,
however, Marci sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. She read.

Dear
Marci --

At
the time of this writing, I don’t know if you’ll be getting this letter in
person or if I’ll have to mail it to you. I hope we’re together when you read
it, because I want you to be able to look into my eyes and see how completely
serious I am about every word.

“Oh,
please,” she said and rolled her eyes. Doug looked a little hurt but remained
silent.

There
is no way I can ever make up to you what happened between us during those last
days you were in Austin. When I heard that you left town, whatever was left of
my heart broke into a thousand pieces because I knew I would never see you again.
What hurt even more was knowing that I would never deserve to see you again
after all I put you through.

I
know that this explanation will not undo the hurt I caused you, caused both of
us, but I hope it will help you to understand why things happened the way they
did. If nothing else, I want you to know that what we felt for each other was
not a lie.

Everything
I did and said and felt for you was true, Marci. From our first kiss to that
last night together in your apartment, I have loved you in a way that was deep
and scary. I never thought about stepping out on my marriage before you, even
though I have wondered for years whether I made the right choice marrying
Cathy. I now know the answer to that question—I only wish I had figured it out
before we met so we could have the relationship we were meant to have.