Something Blue by Emily Giffin Page A

made a face. It was too modern for him. I translated what had just transpired for Marcus. “See, he doesn’t like clean lines. See?”
    “Darcy, I don’t give a shit about the couch they buy.”
    ” They buy ?You mean you think it’s a joint purchase ?”
    “They buy. He buys. She buys,” Marcus said, as if conjugating a verb in French class.
    “Does she look good? Do they look happy?”
    “Come on, Darce. Let’s just go,” he said.
    I kept staring at them, my insides churning.
    “Tell me,” I demanded. “Does she look prettier than usual? Thinner maybe?” We watched Rachel and Dex return to their boring, brown couch. She sat and reclined smugly. Then she looked up at Dex and said something. His back was to us, but I could see him nod, run his fingers along the back of the couch. Then he stooped to flip through a book of color swatches on a coffee table next to the couch.
    “Do you think they’re moving in together?” I asked.
    “How the hell should I know?”
    “Did he say anything about that when you talked?”
    He sighed. “I told you ten times every word of that conversation.”
    “He’s just replacing our couch then, right? She’s just helping him, right?”
    He sighed harder this time. “I don’t know, Darcy. Probably. Who cares?”
    “Look. Don’t lose your patience with me, mister,” I said. “This is major.” I thrust a finger toward them and then studied Dex and Rachel more, taking in every little detail. Three weeks ago, they were the people that I knew the best. My best friend and my fiance. Now they seemed like strangers or estranged loved ones whom I hadn’t heard from in years. As Rachel turned her head, I noticed that her hair was layered a bit at the bottom, a radical departure from her usual blunt ends.
    “Do you like her hair like that?” I asked Marcus.
    “Sure. It’s great,” he said dismissively.
    I gave him a look that said, Wrong answer .
    “Okay. It sucks. It’s hideous.”
    “Come on. Look at it! Tell me your honest opinion!” I was feeling frantic, wishing that Claire were with me. She’d find something to criticize. Sneakers. Hair. Something.
    Marcus thrust his hands in his pockets and glanced over at Rachel. “She looks the same to me.”
    I shook my head. “No. They both look better than usual,” I said. “What is it? Is it just that some time has passed?”
    Then, just as Dex sat down beside Rachel, it hit me. Dex was tanned. Even Rachel didn’t have her usual white glow. The realization slashed through my heart. They had gone to Hawaii together! I gasped. “Omigod. They’re tan. She went on my trip to Hawaii! She went on my honeymoon! Omigod. Omigod. I’m going to confront them!” You hear people say that rage can be blinding, and I learned at that moment that it was true. My vision became blurry as I took one step toward them.
    Marcus grabbed my arm. “Darce—do not go over there. Let’s just leave. Now .”
    “He told me he was going to eat those tickets! How dare she go on my honeymoon!” I was crying. A couple standing near our bookcase bunker looked at me, then over at Dex and Rachel.
    “You told me he offered them to you,” Marcus said.
    “That is totally beside the point! I wouldn’t have taken you to Hawaii!”
    Marcus raised his eyebrows as if to consider this. “Yeah—that is kind of fucked up,” he conceded. “You have a point.”
    “She went on my honeymoon! What kind of a psycho bitch goes on her friend’s honeymoon?” My voice was louder now.
    “I’m leaving. Now.” He took the stairs, two at a time, and as I turned to follow him, I got one more sickening visual: Dex leaning down to kiss Rachel. On her lips. Tan, happy, smitten, kissing couch consumers.
    My eyes filled with tears as I rushed down the stairs, past Marcus, past the barware, out the door to Madison Avenue.
    “I know, honey,” Marcus said, when he caught up to me. For the first time, he seemed to have genuine empathy for my ordeal. “This has