nimble enough to ask the million-dollar question. “So, Rach, what happened between you and Aiden?”
She looks around to ensure that there are no prying ears. Juan Carlo is on the other side of the bar and we have no else around us so Rachael asks, “You really want to know?”
I sit up and turn towards her, adjusting the back of my sun-lounger so I’m more upright and wiggle backwards getting comfortable. I have a feeling that I might finally be getting the story. “I do. I’ve tried to stay out of your relationship. Colin tells me nothing that Aiden says. I’m truly in the dark.”
The scene in front of us is picturesque. The blue of the infinity pool is matched only by the clear, azure ocean-water, lapping up on the almost powder-white sand. There aren’t many guests sunbathing or even swimming, for that matter. Colin booked us at a very exclusive hotel in their more private section of rooms. I get the feeling that this block of rooms and pool is reserved for honeymooners and rich people stepping out on their spouse, not a best-friend vacation. Still, neither one of us were complaining. Picking up men was the last thing that we wanted to do on this trip.
Rachael’s face turns into a violent, twisted sea of emotions. I reach over and grab her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Talk to me, Rach. I’m your best friend.”
She picks up her drink from the plastic table between us and slams it down her throat. “If we’re getting into touchy subjects, we need tequila.” She motions toward our bartender and calls, “Juan Carlo, bring us a bottle of Don Julio, stat.”
Poor Juan Carlo raises his eyebrows at my tiny friend. I smile at him. It’s okay, we’re staying in tonight , I mouth. “A bottle and two shot glasses please,” I reply out loud.
Rachael and I’ve done this many times before. I think our tequila tradition started when I was at Harvard and her at Wharton. Although, it’s our first bottle on this trip, the tequila has been a long time coming. My clean living for the past year is out the window this vacation. I must admit that it feels awesome to just let loose, and eat and drink whatever I want. Tomorrow, I know that my fun is over. I have an appointment with Doctor Starr next week to begin the infertility journey. I’m living it up for my last twenty-four hours of dietary freedom.
I turn to the waiter who has been hanging out near the bar. “Can we get a bowl of guacamole, chips, and some salsa?” He nods his head, and looks very relieved that I ordered food.
Once we’re two shots of tequila in, Rachael rolls to her side and says, “Aiden asked me to marry him.” Her face is blank, so I can’t read what my response should be. But, I’m shocked; I really have been clueless about the two of them.
She pauses and lets her news settle in. I can feel my jaw dropping. This was not the revelation that I was expecting.
“Not once, but multiple times. I’ve told him no each time, and now he will not take my calls.”
“Wh… Why…?” I stammer, sounding like a complete loser. “Why did you tell him no?” What I really want to ask is if it is because he’s black. This was Aiden’s big revelation around Christmas time. He thought the reason that Rachael wouldn’t marry him was because her future constituents wouldn’t approve of her mixed-race relationship.
Rachael lets out a sigh, and takes a big, heaping bite of guacamole on a chip. “He wants a relationship. I just want a friend with benefits. He wants kids. I think a dog is too much responsibility. He wants me to move to LA. I’ve informed him that our nation’s government is in D.C.”
I nod my head. I understand where she’s coming from. It was hard as hell to walk away from my practice in Houston and join Colin in Dallas. It was worth it, though. I certainly don’t regret the decision, but if anyone understands the balancing act between relationships and careers, it’s me.
“Well, Rach…” I start.
She
Leta Blake, Alice Griffiths