“So why did you cut off all contact with me?” My eyes fill with tears. It was so hard to spend months of my life not speaking to him.
Joe closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Because I didn’t want to be your coping mechanism. Your rebound. Your designated mistake after going through something traumatic. The reason why I was so pissed with you when you left after we had sex wasn’t because I had an issue with what we did to Dom. In a way, I think we’d have done him a favor. Dom was in love with Sarah. So much so he didn’t have the balls to break up with her and move on. The only reason he stayed with you was because you were his plan B. It was sickening to watch both of you making a terrible choice and not being able to step in and stop you. And then he died, and through all the pain, and the guilt of being alive, of surviving, of not being able to stop it somehow, the only sliver of light was that you were both spared from having a terrible marriage. After we slept together, I felt used by you. A consolation prize. Like you screwed me just to prove a point to yourself. That you still could.”
I shake my head. “I slept with you because I’d thought about you every night, ever since Christmas,” I say, choking out the words. “Because I love you. God, Joe, I love you so much.”
Joe’s shoulders sag with relief. He shakes his head. There’s still an invisible barrier between us. I’m glad it’s there, humming, reminding us not to get close.
“Okay. Good. This is good. So you love me and I love you. Case closed. Move back to Massachusetts, and we’ll pick up where we left off in Spain. It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he says.
Rubbing at my forehead, I look around the room. “What’ll people think?”
“That we look cute together?” he drawls coolly.
“No one will accept us as a couple.” I get flustered. “I wish things were easier. If only Dom had known that I was your Everlynne—”
“Actually, I thought about that,” Joe says, cutting me off. “On the plane on my way here. I’m pretty sure he knew.”
“Knew? What do you mean?”
He takes my hand and pulls me to the edge of the bed. We plop down. His eyes are sharp and alert. Maybe even a little manic.
“Dom had the memory of an elephant. Mom always joked about it. He remembered everything,” Joe says. “Birthdays, historical dates, random people we went to school with. And I talked about you a lot.”
“You’re saying he knew who I was when we met and decided to pursue me anyway? To spite you?” Suspicion drips from my voice. Dom wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t purposefully malicious either.
Joe shakes his head. “No. Not to spite me. I think he realized after the fact that you are Everlynne. My Everlynne. He put two and two together shortly after we met Christmas Eve.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Small things that happened after Christmas. When I said I should have brunch with you and get to know you, he told me he’d tag along so you wouldn’t feel ambushed. He hardly ever spoke about you around me, when before he would go on and on about you. I think the engagement was a way to make it a done deal. Dom usually wasn’t one to rush into things.”
I process everything that he is saying. Now that I think about it, Joe is right. Dom did seem a little off about things after we got back from his parents’ after Christmas. And the proposal did come as a surprise.
Oh my God. Did Dom find out?
“But . . . why?” I whisper, feeling deflated and beaten. This makes no sense. None at all. “Why would he do this to us?”
“Because his fear of losing out was greater than his need to do the right thing—same reason why he dated both you and Sarah.” He stands up and walks over to the window. “And because I think he tried to tell himself he was doing us both a favor. He’d seen how consumed I was by you for years. He’d always said I was crazy for not trying to move on. Every girlfriend, every date, I compared to you. And they all fell short. He wanted me to have a fresh start. I know this much. And Dom always thought he knew better than everyone else.”
Joe works his jaw back and forth, staring onto the street pensively.
“For Chrissake, Dom!” Joe picks up the switchboard phone on the nightstand beside him, unplugs it, and hurls it across the room. It explodes into three pieces on the wall, landing on the floor. I start crying. I’ve never been so hurt by someone, and I can’t even face Dom. I can’t tell him he is a dirtbag and an asshole and a cheat. He would be the worst thing that happened to me if he hadn’t brought Joe back into my life.