“Mulberry silk,” Monroe replies, also without a trace of irony. “In whatever color you desire.”
Destyny and Genesis let out identical sighs of bliss and then glare at each other.
“Now, as an end to our enlightenment-seeking for the evening,” Monroe continues, “I want you all to imagine your best self. Slip into that self like a perfectly tailored pantsuit.”
Calista wrinkles her nose, I’m guessing at the idea of wearing a pantsuit. Kate, on the other hand, just rolls her eyes and folds herself nearly in half in a stretch reaching well past her toes.
“Some of us don’t need to imagine our best selves,” she says, then turns that smug look onme.
Out of all the Not-Wives, she’s the one I like least. She’s a good deal younger than the others, obviously more limber, and spent pretty much the entire climbing instruction sidling closer to Jason and sycophantically echoing his every instruction.
I may be weirdly conflicted about why he insists the Not-Wives aren’t the least bit attractive, but I’m definitely not conflicted about that statement when it comes toher.
Not that I can really blameanyonefor being into him. But I’m not about to let her pull that mean-girl competitive shit on me.
I shoot a smug look back. She can sidle and stretch all she wants. He’smyboyfriend.
For now, anyway. How much could he really want to be my boyfriend if he never thinks about a future where he’s anything more?
I turn away before she seesthatall over my face.
Moving forward didn’t used to be a problem for us. We slept together on our first date, and on our second, when he made a spaghetti dinner for me at his apartment and we talked for six hours straight, I asked him right then and there if he wanted to date exclusively.
I wasn’t shy then about going after what I wanted, and it paid off.
I had lots of boyfriends before Jason, but from the very beginning, he was different. I developed stronger feelings than I’d ever had, feelings I was starting to think I was just too practical for.
I mean, yeah, I liked those other guys (some more than others) and I was sad when previous relationships ended (some more than others) but it never felt like the kind of giddy, miraculous thing I saw in other happy couples, like my friends Su-Lin and Brendan, who could easily win the Cutest Couple in the Whole Freaking World award.
But Jason, well . . . I knew I was in love with him inside of a month, and I’ve fallen deeper and harder ever since. It was that way for him, too. He was so happy when I first told him I loved him, the first time I’d ever said that to anyone, including my family members, who avoid overt expressions of emotion like the Not-Wives avoid polyester.
I was so nervous to tell him, I ended up practically yelling it at him. But once he confirmed I actually meant it and I wasn’t saying this as part of some strange hostage situation, he grinned in that huge, happy way of his and told me he loved me too, and it felt like my whole world snapped into place.
I’ve never left that place. I want to make a whole life there. Get married. Start a family. But I’m not sure we’re moving toward that dream anymore.
Maybe he doesn’t want it. Maybe he doesn’t wantme.
But even if Jason doesn’t want that future with me,I’mnot going to spontaneously stop wanting it. If this is really as far as our relationship goes, the next conversation we have about the future might not end in us moving in together.
Instead, it might be the beginning of the end ofus.
It’s already dark by the time I reach my car, and the hot day has quickly turned into a chilly night, but I’ve got both a flashlight and a hoodie with me for the way back. I’m not about to wait until morning to send this report. Getting it done tonight means one less thing to worry about tomorrow. Something I cando, when there’s suddenly so much in my life I’m not sure how to fix. I drive down the one-lane road out of the canyon, the sky a wide starry slice above the canyon walls, and pull over on a gravel turnout at the first sign of cell service.Then I fire off the project to Connor, making sure it goes through.
It should make me feel better to have this off my plate, but it doesn’t. Which isn’t surprising, because this isn’t really the problem.
I need to talk to Jason—not just snipe at him, buttalkto him. But god, I’m not ready to deal with what the fallout might be, so I sit in my car and hold back my tears until they give up trying to force their way through.
It takes a long time.
When I finally get back to camp, I don’t see Jason anywhere, even though his friends are all sitting around a campfire with beers, hanging out with a few of the other crew members.
He’s probably in our tent, waiting for me. I take a deep breath and walk purposefully toward it. We’ll probably fight. We’ve done that before. We did that today. It shouldn’t be a big deal.
I open the tent flap and go inside, taking off my shoes and leaving them just inside the tent to minimize the red dirt that’s already collecting on the tent floor. And yep, there’s Jason, lying on his side and flipping through a climbing magazine. He’s got his Maglite right next to him, flipped into a lantern, and his face is bathed in yellow light. He looks up at me.
I can’t read his expression at all, and I have no idea what he can read in mine.
He’s still dressed, but I take a moment to slip off my bra from underneath my shirt and very carefully lay it in my duffel bag on top of tomorrow’s clothes, as if it’s a nuclear weapon instead of a cheap underwire fromTarget.
