Chapter 19

19

DES

T he weekend after the fiasco at Crush, I'm snuggled on my couch with Mitzi when a text from George pops up on my phone.

So, do I get to meet this hero of yours?

I drum my fingers on the arm of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. Ugh.

Do you want to?

I type back. Why is he texting me? Has he sent this as a friend, or is he messaging me because he fancies creating a fresh drama? Perhaps he wants some gossip about how his boyfriend dumped him and how awful it was to be forced into meeting the new guy. Another message pops up:

We're friends, yeah?

I've been on a different wavelength from George almost from the first moment I met him. His job is doing marketing for Google, and he's awesome at it. He does loads of fun social media stuff and is very creative, but it's a million miles from the heavy weight of software project management and the detail and people issues that I'm faced with day to day.

I hope so.

I type. He won't apologize for the other night, but I want to draw some boundaries here. Subjecting Alex to his drama wouldn't be fair, so I add:

You'll play nice?

This doesn't elicit a response for the longest time … until:

Just tell me when and where

I can almost hear his sigh and perhaps it wasn't a kind question. Testing the water might be the best approach, neutral territory, cocktails. George might behave or he might not; it could all be a complete crapshoot.

Cocktails? Let me check with Alex.

Pulling up the text box for Alex, I type in:

George would like to meet you.

Three dots appear straight away.

Oh God, is that a good or a bad thing?

Good, I think. Color me surprised. I have no idea how he'll behave, fair warning.

Okay.

Tonight?

I send the message to both of them. Might as well get it over with.

The bar where Alex and I first met seems like a solid choice. It's sophisticated and quiet and we can chat. I want them to get along. If this works out, it would be lovely if they knew each other.

When I arrive, Alex is already seated at a nearby table in his sharp suit fiddling with his cuffs, but as I wave at him, arms wrap around me from behind, a loud laugh echoing in my ear. I turn, and George's smiling face is right next to mine.

"Hey, sweetie," he says, planting a kiss on my lips.

I step back. Jesus, I hope that Alex doesn't think that I … A hand lands on my waist and then Alex presses in behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder, peering at George. A hot thrill runs through me. How did he get over here so fast?

"Hello," he says, holding out his hand around my torso. "I'm Alex."

Oh my God, he staked a claim. He came over here and put his hands on me. And judging from George's expression, he hasn't missed it either. Alex's hand doesn't leave my hip as George takes his other hand, beaming, and then he tugs, pulling Alex in front of me and dragging him into a warm hug.

"Des will tell you I'm quite physical," he says, and Alex laughs as George kisses his cheek.

"It's lovely to meet you," Alex says.

This is weird.

The server hovers off to our left, and Alex turns, telling her we've got a table, but we'd like some more drinks. And we head over to where I spotted him a minute ago, his blue cocktail already sitting there.

As the server hands out menus, George says, "Ooooo, what did you order?"

"It's called a Manhattan Blue." Alex holds it out so George can sip.

George screws up his face and smacks his lips, then says, "I think I need something creamier that doesn't hit so hard on the back of the throat."

I look up at the ceiling as he raises his head from the menu.

"What?"

I shake my head at him. "Don't play the innocent with me."

George bugs his eyes out at me and then makes a face at Alex. Alex is grinning at us.

"I think I'm going to find watching you two very entertaining," he says.

This seems to settle George, like Alex has put him and me together. He claps his hands.

"Now I was thinking on my way here about what dreadful stories I could tell you about this guy." George jerks a thumb at me.

"Oh no," I say, burying my face in my hands.

George gives a wicked cackle. "Why do you think I wanted to meet him?" he says, gesturing at Alex.

"Because you're a friend?" I say hopefully, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. My duty is to fill this young man in on what he's getting into." He pats Alex's knee.

I mouth sorry at Alex, but he just shakes his head and smiles, looking down at his lap.

When I come out of the bathroom about an hour later, George is waiting in the corridor.

"Hey," I say.

Pursing his lips at me, he jerks his head toward the bar. "I'm surprised. I wouldn't have thought he'd be your type."

"I have a type?"

"He's quiet that's all. Introverted." He waves his hand. "You know."

I don't think he means this as a compliment, but I'm not going to assume he's being negative. Being straight with him and Alex going forward is vital.

"Yeah, I'm surprised, too." I laugh. "He's got hidden depths."

"Whereas I have no hidden depths at all," George mutters, fiddling with the strap on his wrist.

"Hey," I reach out to squeeze his hand. "This isn't a comparison or a competition."

"I've lost you to him. Of course it's both those things!" he says.

"George. We separated a while ago," I say, taking a deep breath.

The color on his cheeks is high as I take in his glassy eyes, and he huffs as I bend a bit to try and get him to look at me.

"George, we had this conversation a long time ago. If I'm going to be in a relationship, monogamy is important to me. It felt like that was a problem we were never going to solve." I put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't blame you for it; we're just different in that respect. No harm, no foul."

"It's all very well for you to say that having found somebody else." He waves his arm to where Alex is sitting. "I'm not in the same position."

Why doesn't he see that not being faithful is the cause of all his problems?

"Why is that?"

"I like all the flirting and the threesomes and the playing around!"

"Okay, well you just need to find someone who likes that, too."

He looks down at his hands. "I'm too insecure for that. When they do it to me, I can't handle it."

I want to roll my eyes, but maybe I also want to help him, too.

"Maybe they feel insecure when you do it to them. Maybe that's why it never works."

Why doesn't he get this? This is an important conversation, probably the first honest one we've had. He's so unrealistic. Does he realize that?

He tuts. "You're not insecure about anything."

That's such a sweeping statement to make about anyone. "I'm not insecure most of the time. I don't need to be told I'm great. But I do want someone who listens and supports me when life gets hard, and tough things are always coming down the road."

"Does he give you that? The understanding and the …" He waves his hand again almost like these are weird attributes that no one has ever talked to him about. Perhaps they haven't.

"Yes, yes he does."

"And I guess I didn't."

"Don't put yourself down like that. We had a lot of fun together and I wouldn't change it. You're a blast, George. The sleeping around was just difficult for me. But I think if you can find somebody who wants an open relationship, then you'll have found your guy."

"Why can't I meet someone who likes me the way I am?"

Laughing, I pull him into a hug. "I think you will do eventually, and in the meantime, I hope we'll always be friends," I say.

He hugs me, then pulls back and makes a face at me. "I miss you, Des," he says, before diving past me into the washroom and my chest clenches. I'm sad for him, but I'm not conflicted about him anymore.

I hope I'm really moving on.