Page 20 of Your Every Wish

Dex is acting like a jerk. It’s clear he doesn’t like Kennedy and even clearer that she doesn’t like him. I would say despise is more like it. I had such high hopes for this dinner that maybe if Dex and my half sister hit it off, he’d reconsider lending us the money.

Instead, he’s barely said a word, paying more attention to his steak than he has us. Later, when I go back to his place without Kennedy, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. For now, though, I’m desperately trying to carry the conversation to make this less awkward than it already is.

“Hey, Kennedy says she can get us a great deal on a weekend at Caesars Palace and tickets to see Adele.”

“Why would I want to see Adele?”

“I thought you liked her music. I do.”

“Then you go see her.”

“What about Hoover Dam? We could take one of those helicopter trips.”

He glances at his watch. “You ladies want dessert?”

“I’m good,” Kennedy says.

“You sure? Because I’m getting the chocolate molten lava cake. They make the best here.” I say it mostly to piss off Dex, who’s made it clear he wants to leave.

He flags down our server and orders two for the table. “We’ll all share.”

“Maybe Kennedy wants her own.”

“Then she can have the other one,” Dex says. “I’ll have a taste of yours.”

I can’t argue with that because I can’t finish a whole one anyway.

“Where are you staying, Kennedy?” he asks, and I think to myself at least he’s finally showing a modicum of interest.

“The Intercontinental.”

“On Howard? We’ll drop you off on our way home.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

After that lively and witty exchange the table falls quiet again. Despite all the world events, we apparently have nothing to talk about.

Our desserts come, we race through them and Dex pays the bill, which is good of him, even though I want to punch him in the face right now. The valet fetches his car and we drive to the hotel in more silence.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell Kennedy as she gets out of the back seat.

She sticks her head inside my open window. “Thanks for the ride and for dinner.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dex says. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too.” But Kennedy doesn’t mean it.

“Would it have killed you to be a little nicer?” I say as we drive away.

“Not kill me. I was plenty nice. I paid for dinner, didn’t I?”

“Give me a break, Dex. You could cut the hostility with a knife. Why? What did Kennedy ever do to you?”

“I don’t like her.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t like criminals.”

“She’s not a criminal.”

“Here’s a question: Why do you like her?”

“We have a connection, a bond,” I say because from the first moment I met her I felt it. As different as we are, we’re also the same.

“Because you share the same DNA?” He laughs. “Or is it that you’re doing what you always do, making someone else’s problems your own?”

I stop for a second to give it some thought because Dex does have a point. I’m a professional problem solver, an advice giver. “Even if that’s the case, which it isn’t, what’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He gives me a sideways glance, then shakes his head.

“You’re letting this woman suck you in. What do you really know about her other than this cock-and-bull story she’s told you about her mother?

How do you know she won’t steal from you, Emma? Let’s face it, you’re an easy mark.”

I stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can be gullible and too trusting.” He turns right at the light and hops on the Third Street Bridge. “All I’m saying is you’re too nice for your own good. And this Kennedy is a shark. Take it from me, I work with people like her.” He puts his hand on my leg.

“You’re wrong about her. She may have the exterior of a shark but on the inside she’s vulnerable. Kind.” Her tough schtick is an act. I can see it with the way she interacts with the folks at the trailer park. For all her I-don’t-give-a-shit bravado, she cares.

But I don’t want to fight with Dex on our one night together.

I had hoped he would come to Ghost more often but with his demanding job and busy schedule, it’s difficult for him to break away.

I’m trying to be an understanding girlfriend but sometimes I feel like I’m the one doing all the work.

I wish he would try a little harder. Love me a little more.

When we get to his apartment building, he slides into his parking space and opens the passenger-side door for me. Always a gentleman. It’s a perfect October evening, still warm enough for an evening stroll. And Dex lives by the water.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I say. The truth is I had high expectations for this night and after our little argument over Kennedy, I’m not feeling particularly amorous.

“Nah, let’s go up.”

“Come on, Dex. It’ll be romantic.” I tug him away from the elevator and toward the exit door of his underground parking structure.

“All right. But only for a few minutes.”

There are quite a few people out on the street, spilling in and out of the restaurants and bars. I wonder if the Giants have a home game tonight, though it must be nearing the end of the season. I like baseball because Dex does but don’t follow it religiously.

We stroll in the direction of the Mission Creek boat launch. There aren’t any kayakers on the bay tonight. On game nights you usually see them paddling in McCovey Cove, enjoying their waterside seats and trying to catch stray balls.

My heart gives a little kick with homesickness. I love this city. But I love Ghost, too. The towering pine trees. The giant rock formations. The mountain peaks. The creeks and rivers and lakes. The countryside where you can breathe and feel at one with nature.

Here, it’s car exhaust, honking horns, and endless throngs of people. But beautiful just the same. The sun is starting to set and it’s making interesting shadows on the water.

We stop to take it all in and I let out a sigh. “What a magical night.”

“Can we go home now?” Dex drapes his arm over my shoulder and leads me toward his apartment building.

Well, that was short-lived. His strides lengthen and since his legs are twice as long as mine, I find it hard to keep up. I want to say What’s the rush?

His arm slips down from my shoulder and he grazes my breast. “Hurry up, Emma.”

And then I know exactly what the rush is about and feel a smile blossom in my chest. By the time we reach his building lobby that smile has spread all the way down to my toes.

* * *

“I thought you wanted to spend the day with Dex,” Kennedy says as we zip across the Bay Bridge in her BMW to make our two-hour-and-twenty-minute trek to Ghost.

“He had to work.”

“On a Sunday? I thought you said he was a trader on the stock exchange.”

“There’s a ton of research that goes into it.

He usually spends the weekends analyzing price patterns.

There’s a lot of metrics involved in trading.

It’s not just buying and selling.” But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.

I’d planned to spend the day with Dex and leave for Ghost sometime after dinner.

We’d had a good night, though. Perhaps absence really does make the heart grow fonder because Dex couldn’t get enough of me.

It was as if his sex drive was on steroids.

We did it three times. He even woke me up at five in the morning for a marathon lovemaking session, before he went to the gym.

I spent the rest of the morning luxuriating in his nine-hundred-thread-count Frette sheets.

Luckily, Kennedy had to check out of her hotel at noon and hadn’t made any plans for the city. We both agreed that instead of tooling around downtown, we’d head back to Ghost, do some grocery shopping, and maybe catch dinner at this café with outdoor seating on the river I read about.

“You hated him, didn’t you?” I don’t know why I care. I don’t need Kennedy or anyone else’s approval.

Kennedy glances over at me. “He’s kind of a dick, if you want to know the truth.”

“He’s just awkward around new people.” When she responds with stony silence, I say, “What?”

“Fine, I can accept that he’s uncomfortable around me. That he probably doesn’t like me because of my current . . . uh, situation. But I don’t like the way he treats you. ‘ Emma, stop fidgeting like a child and order already .’ ”

She does a fairly good impression of Dex, though I don’t know where she came up with the Kermit the Frog voice.

“ ‘ Emma, stop interrupting me .’ ‘ Emma, if you’d give up that little hobby of yours and get a real job, you could afford to live here instead of the goddamn boondocks .’ My God, he treats you like an unruly child.”

“He’s protective, that’s all. And a bit of a control freak. It comes with his type A personality.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked.” She starts to say something, then stops.

“What? Go ahead and spit it out.”

“I don’t get what you see in him. Granted, he’s good-looking—a little too all-American cliché with the sandy blond hair and creepy green eyes for my taste—but he’s condescending, dull, officious, and .

. . well, he’s not very nice. And you are the picture of nice.

Seriously, you’re so sweet a person can get diabetes simply from looking at you.

I may not know you all that well, and maybe what I don’t know is that you’re actually a cold-hearted bitch like me.

But from what I’ve seen so far, you’re the opposite.

You help people, you listen to their problems, you only see the good in everything.

Why are you attracted to a man who’s mean? ”

“He’s not mean. I’ll go with you on officious and somewhat controlling. But not mean. He’s a lovely person once you get to know him.”

“How? Give me three examples of how he’s a lovely person.”