Page 82 of The Fall

DALLAS: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

I didn’t have to wait long.

DEAN: I’m sorry I broke my promise.

“Dallas, Kung Pao chicken?” I heard Rose call from the living room. I slid my phone underneath my new pillow and joined my sister. Being near her made me so much stronger.

“Yes!” I said with a smile. An hour later, we were in a carb-induced noodle coma in matching yoga pants, sharing a bowl of New York Super Fudge Chunk.

“This is the cure for…everything,” I said around a mouthful of chocolate.

“So, I think I’m going to nail the interview,” Rose said, matter of fact.

“You will. You’ve so got this.” She was referring to the interview for a prestigious surgical fellowship she had earned. Only one student was chosen per year, and Rose was up for it. She was by far the more disciplined of the two of us. I envied her and the fact that she had more of a normal college experience than I had. Just the same, I was happy for her.

“If I don’t get it, I guess I’ll just chill for a bit and ease into marriage.” She widened her eyes at the word marriage, and I chuckled.

“Married. Good Lord, I’m close to old maid status,” I remarked, retiring my spoon.

“Oh, horseshit,” she huffed. “Everything can change in a hot minute. I mean, the love of your life came waltzing back after what, five years?”

“Seven,” I corrected.

Picking up the trash off my coffee table, she continued her argument, following me to the kitchen. “Okay, seven. Still, he’s back. He’s courting you with pillows, and hot damn, Dallas, he is better looking than ever.”

“Don’t remind me.” Blowing out a lungful of air, I threw our trash away and turned to see her standing close.

“What is going on? Please, Dallas, stop keeping things from me. I don’t keep anything from you. At least tell me the situation so I can tell you exactly why you’re an idiot.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Rolling her eyes, she blocked me from exiting my tiny kitchen. “You’ve told me your whole life that I’m your best friend, right?”

“Of course.”

Her hands on her hips made her look like the ten-year-old I used to kick the crap out of for stealing my makeup.

“Well …” Nodding toward me in suggestion, I sighed. The more I thought about it, the more I knew she was right. I turned back to the kitchen and heard her groan behind me.

“Dallas …”

“If I’m going to come clean, I need wine,” I said as I held up a bottle.

Her broad smile was so beautiful that it took my breath away.

“You’re annoyingly happy at the moment,” I teased. “So please, take that into consideration before you throw sunshine and roses on my shit storm.”

“Deal,” she squeaked, grabbing two glasses out of my cabinet.

An hour into my revelation, Rose broke down. I think it had more to do with the fact that I hadn’t told her—but then again, the news about the baby clearly wrecked her. We stayed up well past midnight talking and ended up in my bed at 2:00 A.M., winding down our conversation with scattered whispers across the bed in the dark.

“Do you still love him?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Then be with him. Shit, Dallas. Did I tell you what I did when David broke my heart?”

“No, should I record this for the wedding video?”

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