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Ethan looks up at me, catching something in my tone. “Um . . .”
“Was it right before they got engaged?” I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if he agrees with this shot in the dark, but it suddenly makes sense that Dane would refuse to commit until he was impulsively ready to enter holy matrimony.
My brain is nothing but fantasies of fire and brimstone.
Ethan nods slowly, and his eyes scan my face like he’s trying to read my mood, and can’t. “Remember? He ended it with the other women right around the time Ami had her appendix out, and then he proposed?”
I slam my hand down on the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ethan bolts to stand, pointing a finger at me. “You played me! Don’t even pretend like Ami didn’t know all this!”
“Ami never thought they were seeing other people, Ethan!”
“Then she lied to you, because Dane tells her everything!”
I am already shaking my head, and I really want to hurt Dane but Ethan is closer and it’ll be a fantastic rehearsal. “You’re telling me that Dane was sleeping around for the first two years they were together, and he let you think Ami was okay with it? She started cutting out wedding dresses she liked in magazines after a few months of dating him. She treated her wedding like a game show challenge to win as much as she could—and it consumed her. She has an apron specifically for baking cupcakes, for crying out loud, and has already picked out names for their future children. Does Ami seem like the kind of chill gal who would be fine with an open relationship?”
“I . . .” He seems less certain now. “Maybe I’m wrong . . .”
“I need to call her.” I turn to head to the bedroom to find my phone.
“Don’t!” he shouts. “Look, if that’s what he told me, then I’m telling you this in confidence.”
“You have got to be joking. There is no way I’m not talking to my sister about this.”
“Jesus Christ, Dane was right.”
I go very still. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound.
“Seriously, Ethan? What does that mean?”
He looks up at me, and with a pang I miss the sweet adoration in his expression last night, because the anger here is painful.
“Tell me,” I say, more quietly now.
“He told me not to bother with you. That you’re angry all the time.”
I feel this like a punch to my sternum.
“Can you believe I wanted to ask you out?” he says, and laughs humorlessly.
“What are you even talking about?” I ask. “When?”
“When we first met.” He bends, resting his elbows on his thighs. His long form curls up into an exhausted C, and he rakes a fantastic hand through his mess of hair. “That first time at the fair. I told him how pretty I thought you were. He thought that was weird—that it was weird for me to be attracted to you. Like, it meant I was into his girlfriend or something because you were twins. He told me not to bother anyway, that you were sort of bitter and cynical.”
“Dane told you I was bitter? Bitter about what?” I am flabbergasted.
“I mean, I didn’t know at the time, but it seemed to mesh with how you acted. You clearly didn’t like me from the get-go.”
“I only didn’t like you because you were such an asshole when we met. You looked at me eating cheese curds like I was the most repulsive woman you’d ever seen.”
He looks up at me, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Everything seemed fine,” I say. “While everyone was deciding what we wanted to go see first, I went to get some cheese curds. I came back and you looked at them, looked at me in complete revulsion, and then walked away to go look at the beer competition. From that point on, you’ve always acted so disgusted around me, and food.”
Ethan shakes his head, eyes closed like he has to clear away this alternate reality. “I remember meeting you, being told I couldn’t ask you out, and then going to do our own thing for the afternoon. I have no recollection of the rest.”
