Something Borrowed

Chapter 12

Every year over the July Fourth holiday, there is a mass exodus from Manhattan. People head for the Hamptons, the Cape, Martha's Vineyard, even New Jersey. Nobody stays. Not even Les. The summer of the bar exam, when my ex boyfriend and I stayed in the city to study, I was amazed at what a different, downright peaceful place it was without all of the people. Of course, I plan on staying home this year too—I can't stomach the thought of seeing Trey and Naya together. I call Trey and tell him this. He says what I have been hoping he would say.

"I'll stay too."

"Really?" My heart races just imagining spending the night with Trey.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

So we devise our plan: we will both "discover" at the last moment that we have to work. We will bitch and moan up a storm but insist to Naya that she should go on and have fun without us. By then she will have a fresh pedicure, new outfits purchased, parties lined up, and reservations made at her favorite restaurants. So there's no way she'll stay home, and Trey and I will be together, uninterrupted for days. We will fall asleep together, wake up together, and eat our meals together. And although Trey hasn't confirmed it, I assume that at some point, we will have our big talk.

I share the plan with Dianna, who has high expectations. She is convinced that the long weekend will be the turning point in my relationship with Trey. As she leaves work at noon on the third, she stops by my office and tells me to have a great weekend. "Good luck." She crosses her fingers in the air.

"What do you mean? You think we're going to get caught?"

"No. That's not what I meant. I mean good luck with your talk. You are going to talk to Trey about what's going on, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"You guess so?"

"I'm sure we will. That is the plan."

"Okay. Make sure that you do." She gives me a stern look. "It's crunch time."

I grimace.

"Demi, do not wimp out on this. If you want to be with him, now's the time to pipe up."

"I know. I got it," I say. And for a second I picture myself being Dianna-like. Strong, bold, and confident.

"I'll call you if your girl seems at all suspicious."

I nod, feeling a stab of guilt over such plotting against Naya.

Dianna knows what I'm thinking. "You gotta do what you gotta do," she says. "Don't turn soft now."

At seven sharp, just as planned, Trey arrives at my door with a fresh haircut that further accentuates his cheekbones. He holds a bottle of red wine, a small black duffel bag, and a bunch of white Casablanca lilies, the kind you find at every Korean deli for three bucks a stem. Even though they are inexpensive and somewhat wilted, I like them as much as my expensive roses.

"These are for you," he says. "Sorry. They're kind of dying already."

"I love them," I say. "Thank you."

He follows me into the kitchen as I look for a vase to put them in. I point to my favorite blue one in my top cupboard, just out of my reach. "Can you get that for me?"

He retrieves the vase and sets it on my counter as I begin trimming the stems and arranging them. I am a domestic goddess as far as he can tell.

"We did it," Trey whispers into my ear.