I had no idea. The gap of knowledge sent a cool rush through my blood. I could only shrug in response.
“So weird,” she murmured. “He’s like a different person. Is this the real him? Was he a guy who had fun in gay bars before he dumped Catalina?” She shook her head, her tone quiet and thoughtful. “A broken heart doesn’t do this, does it? Change you like that?”
“No,” I said softly, watching as they passed Dex around as if he was the prodigal son. Phoebe made a decent point; broken hearts do a lot of damage, but I’d never seen one calcify the way Dex’s seemed to, especially considering the evidence indicating he hadn’t always been apathetic and cold. The more time we spent together, the easier it was to spot the whispers of his past self. And somehow in a gay bar in Chicago, a scream broke through.
It took ten minutes for Dex to excuse himself and return with our drinks. He sat across from us and took a sip of water, taking a leisurely look around the room. Phoebe and I stared expectantly.
“It’s pretty loud,” he stated.
Phoebe rolled her eyes and reached for her water. I practicallydove for my mojito. My rioting brain needed to be snuffed out for the night.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Dex avoided eye contact. “What?”
“That.” I jerked my chin toward the bar, where the hot bartender and several others ogled us. “You’re known here.”
“I asked if you’ve ever been to Chicago and you said, ‘A couple times,’?” Phoebe pointed out. “You liar.”
He bristled. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Of course it matters! If you’ve been to Chicago like it looks like you’ve been to Chicago, you know all the cool places.” She paused, stirring her drink with her straw. “Well, some. You’re not that cool.”
He slugged down more water, his dark expression a far cry from the unmistakable joy he’d emitted at the bar. The dude was so closed off, he refused to tell us he had at one point (Clearly? Presumably?) lived in Chicago even though we were in Chicago. It stung, him keeping us at arm’s length. I’d overshared my little heart out. Not necessarily to put us on even ground after reading the letter, but it couldn’t have hurt to show him I had baggage too. Now, I realized it didn’t seem to help either.
“Be honest,” Phoebe said, shooting Dex a wry smile. “Did you used to be fun?”
“I used to be a lot of things,” he muttered. “This is Bree’s place.”
“And Bree is…”
“Behind the bar.”
Phoebe bent over to bonk her head on the table. “You are the most annoying person in the world, oh my god. Stop being evasive for once in your goddamn life.” Dex looked at her, his eyebrows inching upward. “I promise no one cares if you used to live in Chicago, or if you have friends, or if you have the abilityto actually smile. The broody douchebag thing is getting old, man. You’re almost fifty.”
“I’m thirty-one,” he reminded her. She let out strangled moan and lifted her head, fixing him with the flattest look imaginable.
“That’s too old for the bullshit.”
I sipped my drink, unsure of whether I wanted to agree with Phoebe or defend Dex, and then someone crashed into my chair, sending my mojito down the front of my T-shirt. I jumped to my feet, chair clattering, the cold zipping down to my bones.
“Shit!” I gasped at the same time Dex growled, “What the fuck?”
“Sorry, sorry!” A group of twentysomething girls decked out in lacy veils and penis-shaped jewelry giggled their way past. Of course a gay bar would be their ideal choice for a bachelorette party. I let the irritation burn, if only because the copper mug had kept my drink too cold.
“Bitches,” Phoebe said. One of the girls hiccuped, eyes widening, and hurried off. “How self-absorbed do you have to be to have your bachelorette party at a gay bar?”
“Maybe she was bi,” I said, pinching my shirt and pulling the damp cloth farther from my skin.
“Those were the most sexually repressed girls I’ve ever seen,” Phoebe replied, looking to Dex for support. “Obviously straight.”
“Fuckers,” Dex muttered. When he turned to me, his eyes dropped to my drenched shirt and immediately to the ceiling. “You, uh.” He coughed. “You good?”
I glanced at my shirt to find my bra on full display. “Oh, awesome.” Phoebe took a look at me and snickered into her water. “Are we almost ready to go?”
“What?” Phoebe nearly dropped her drink. “We just got here!”
“Yeah, but I think busting the tits out before midnight is frowned upon in most establishments.”
