Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin Read Free Book Online

people
    valued good grooming.
    At that moment Dex sauntered into the bar wearing a black
    leather coat and a beautiful, oatmeal-colored cashmere sweater.
    He walked straight over to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek,
    which I still wasn't used to Midwesterners don't kiss and greet
    like that. I introduced him to Darcy, and she turned on the charm,
    giggling and playing with her hair and nodding emphatically
    whenever he said anything. Dex was pleasant to her but didn't
    seem overly interested and, at one point, as she was dropping
    Goldman names Do you know this guy or that guy?
    Dex actually
    appeared to be suppressing a yawn. He left before the rest of us,
    waving good-bye to the group and telling Darcy that it was nice to
    meet her.
    On the walk back to my room, I asked her what she thought of
    him.
    "He's cute," Darcy said, giving the minimum endorsement. Her
    lackluster response irritated me. She couldn't praise him because
    he hadn't been dazzled enough by her. Darcy expected to be the
    one pursued. And that's what I had come to expect too.
    The next day, as Dex and I had coffee, I waited for him to mention
    Darcy. I was sure he would, but he didn't. A small okay, a
    big part of me enjoyed telling Darcy that her name hadn't come
    up. For once, somebody wasn't falling all over themselves to be
    with her.
    I should've known better.
    About a week later, out of the blue, Dex asked me what the story
    was with my friend.
    "Which friend?" I asked, playing dumb.
    "You know, the dark-haired woman from the Red Lion?"
    "Oh. Darcy," I said. And then cut right to the chase.
    "You want her
    phone number?"
    "If she's single."
    I delivered the news to her that evening. She smiled coyly. "He is
    pretty cute. I'll go out with him."
    It took Dex another two weeks to call her. If he waited on purpose,
    the strategy worked wonders. She was in a frenzy by the time he
    took her to Union Square Cafe. The date obviously went well,
    because they went to brunch the next morning in the Village. Soon
    after that, Darcy and Dex were both off the market.
    In the beginning, their romance was turbulent. I always knew
    Darcy loved to fight with her boyfriends it wasn't fun unless high
    drama was involved but I viewed Dex as this rational, cool
    creature, above the fray. Maybe he had been that way with other
    girls, but Darcy sucked him into her world of chaos and high
    emotion. She'd find a phone number in one of his lawschool
    notebooks (she was a self-proclaimed snoop), do the research,
    trace it back to an ex-girlfriend, and refuse to speak to him. One
    day he came into Torts looking sheepish, with a cut on his
    forehead, right above his left eye. Darcy had hurled a wire hanger
    at him in a jealous rage.
    And it worked the other way, too. We'd all go out and Darcy would
    cozy up to the bar with another guy. I'd watch Dex steal casual
    glances their way until he could stand it no longer. He'd go to
    collect her, looking angry but composed, and I'd overhear her
    justifying her flirtations with some tenuous connection to the guy:
    "I mean, we were just talking about our brothers and how they
    were in the same freaking fraternity. Jesus, Dex! You don't have to
    overreact!" <
    But eventually their relationship stabilized, the fights grew less
    intense and more infrequent, and she moved into his apartment.
    Then, this past winter, Dex proposed. They picked a weekend in
    September, and she picked me as her maid of honor.
    I knew him first, I think to myself now. It is no more ironclad than
    the Ethan defense, but I cling to it for a moment. I picture my
    sympathetic juror, leaning forward as she absorbs this revelation.
    She even raises the point during deliberations. "If it weren't for
    Rachel, Dex and Darcy would never have met. So, in a sense,
    Rachel deserved one time with him." The other jurors stare at her
    incredulously, and Chanel Suit tells her not to be ridiculous. That
    it has nothing to do with anything. "In fact, it might even cut the
    other