He says all of this without any emotion; as if it’s just a set of facts he’s telling me. Now that I know him better, though, I can tell that it isn’t. The emotion is right there in his face. And any man who loves his dog enough to try to steal him away from his traitorous best friend is obviously not the kind of emotionless freak I had Alex pegged as.
I feel pretty bad about thinking that now.
Reallybad, in fact.
“Well, I’m glad you got Brian back,” I say, to cover my sudden discomfort. “What kind of dog is he?”
“A labradoodle,” says Alex, surprising me again. If I’d had to guess, I’d have thought he’d have a much lessfluffybreed than that. “He’s great. Look, this is him.”
He pulls out his phone and shows me a photo of a wild-haired poodle cross, who looks like he’s laughing, and I coo over it appropriately, while silently berating myself for having got absolutely everything about this man wrong.
He’s not a dementor; he’s just sad. And now that I know that, I find myself going back over every one of the interactions I’ve had with him since we met, re-framing them in the context of this new and significant piece of knowledge, which has — in the space of an evening — changed everything.
“Is that why you’ve been glued to your phone so much?” I ask. “Have you been talking to… her?”
“A bit,” he says. “Not much, though. No, I’ve mostly been talking to my family; trying to explain to them why I’m not coming back to ‘try to work things out’. Oh, and trying to get a refund on the reception, obviously. You would notbelievehow much of a headache that’s been.”
“I bet.” I chew my bottom lip thoughtfully. “Well, I guess all of this explains how sad you’ve been,” I say. “I’d be sad too if I’d just broken up with someone I’d been with since we were teenagers.”
“Oh, I’m not sad because of that,” Alex says, surprised.
“You’re not?”
“No. When I said the humiliation was the worst thing about it all, I was wrong,” he says quietly. “The worst thing about it was therelief. When I realized it was all over, and I it, I was just sorelieved, Summer. And I guess I do feel sad now, but it’s not because I miss her, or wanther back. It’s more of a sadness for all of the time I’ll never get back, you know? All that time I spent setting up a life with her, trying to make it work… When I think about what I could have done with that time instead, that’s what makes me feel sad. Does that make sense?”
“I don’t want to feel like my life has been wasted.”
Wasn’t that what I wrote in my diary?
“Yes,” I say softly. “Yes, that makes perfect sense.”
We sit there in companionable silence for a few moments, then Alex stands up and offers me his hand, pulling me to my feet.
“It looks like dinner’s almost over,” he says, glancing over at the terrace, where the waiters are circling the last few diners, waiting to clear up as soon as they leave. “I’m sure they’d let us grab something if you’re hungry, though? I kind of ruined your dinner, didn’t I?”
“No,” I reply truthfully. “You didn’t. And I’m not particularly hungry, either. You’d got us enough starters to feed the entire island.”
“Okay. Well, if you’re not hungry, then I guess—”
He trails off, and we stand there looking at each other, the atmosphere between us suddenly awkward as we try to figure out where to go from here. It seems weird to just say goodnight and go our separate ways after everything we’ve just shared, but then again, there’s no real reason for us to hang out together.
We’re not friends, after all.
“We could have a drink?” Alex suggests. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be? Or… someone you need to see?”
“If you mean Jamie, then no,” I tell him, telling myself I’m probably just imagining the hopeful note I thought I heard in his voice when he suggested drinks. “I don’t have any plans with Jamie. I should probably check on Chloe, though. But I could meet you at the bar after that? If you like?”
Alex smiles; a proper smile this time, not one of the guarded ones he’s been offering up lately.
“I like,” he confirms. “Go and check on your friend. I’ll get us some drinks.”
I nod, then race off across the grounds towards Chloe’s ground-floor room, almost as if he might change his mind if I don’t get back fast enough. Once I’ve established that Chloe’s still alive, but nowhere near well enough to come out for a drink (“You go without me,” she says, like the dying heroine in an end-of-the-world movie. “There’s nothing you can do for me now.”) I take a moment to inspect my makeup in one of the public bathrooms, then head for the main bar, trying to ignore the way my stomach’s fluttering at the thought of having a drink with Alex.
It’sjusta drink, though. That’s it. He’s probably just regretting telling me about his broken engagement, and now he wants to take my mind off it by getting me drunk.
Yeah, that’ll definitely be it.
When I reach the bar, though, I find Alex standing outside it without any of the drinks he said he was going to get, and my heart sinks with disappointment.
