Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (143 page)

She took a deep breath. ‘I'm not in love with Russell,' she said.

‘Oh, Leigh.' Emmy jumped off the couch and made toward the daybed, but Leigh held up her hand.

‘No. Please don't.'

Emmy backed away and settled for resting her hand on Leigh's arm.

‘Here's where I say something absolutely inane and ridiculously trite, like ‘I
love
Russell, but I'm not
in love with
Russell,' right?' Leigh laughed and smeared a fat tear from her lower lashes to the side of her forehead. ‘My god, the whole situation is such a fucking mess. Who would've ever thought it was possible? The perfect one – Marcia, Marcia, Marcia! – agrees to marry a guy she doesn't love because everyone else loves him and she figures that, given enough time, she will, too. Then, rather than deal with her own self-created situation in a reasonably mature manner, she chooses to screw someone she's working with. A married someone! Thereby wrecking both career and love life in one tidy swoop. It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic.'

‘It's not pathetic,' Emmy said automatically.

‘I'm talking about myself in the third person. What's not pathetic about that?'

‘Oh, honey.' Emmy sighed. ‘I'm so sorry. I really had no idea it was this bad. None of us did. But you can't beat yourself up over something you don't feel. Russell's a great guy, and yes, he certainly seems like the perfect guy. But none of that matters if he's not the perfect guy for you.'

Leigh nodded, ‘It just all happened so quickly! One minute we're taking romantic strolls in Union Square, and the next thing I know he's sliding a diamond onto my finger without ever even imagining the answer could be anything but yes. I just keep wondering when we ended up in such different places. I thought we were casually dating, having a good time, the perfect-for-right-now relationship. No end in sight, but not necessarily a great love affair, either. But engaged? To be
married
? Emmy, at the risk of sounding like the biggest moron alive – or the least perceptive one – I just didn't see it coming. I've spent every minute since then waiting to feel sure, to
know
that it's right, but I haven't, Em. I've never, ever felt that with Russell, and I think it's time to face the fact that I'm never going to.'

Both girls froze at the sound of the elevator rising. Before either could say another word, they heard the doors open and Russell's footsteps make their way from the foyer to the kitchen, where the fridge quickly opened and shut again, and then he sauntered into the living room.

‘Oh, hey Emmy. Sorry, I didn't know you were here,' Russell said with a distracted look. Leigh could tell from the single fleeting glance he'd given her that Russell was not in the mood for company tonight. Well, that made two of them.

To her credit, Emmy didn't need any further hints. She jumped off the couch, and after kissing first Russell and then Leigh, she mumbled something about a mandatory work dinner and bounded out the door. She disappeared so fast Leigh didn't have a single minute to prepare what she was going to say. Or when. Or how.

‘Hi,' Leigh said shyly, studying Russell's face for any clue that he had overheard them. It was impossible, of course – they'd heard the elevator in the lobby and hadn't uttered a word as it had made its way upstairs – but she couldn't help hoping he'd caught a few slivers. How much easier all this would be if he had even the smallest clue what was coming.

‘Hey. I hope I didn't interrupt you guys. She bolted pretty fast.' He loosened his tie (the one her parents had bought him for his birthday last year), and then, as though deciding that it still wasn't enough breathing space, pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the Lucite coffee table.

‘Yeah, well, you know Emmy, always on the run.'

‘Hmm. Did you order food?'

‘Sorry, Emmy wanted to say hi on her way home from the airport, and we've been talking, just for a few minutes, and, well, I forgot. What do you want?' Leigh asked, grateful for something to do. She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through the numbers. ‘Sushi? Vietnamese? That place on Greenwich has great spring rolls.'

‘Leigh.'

‘Or we could just hit the diner if you want. A cheese omelet and well-done home fries? That could be really good right now.'

‘Leigh!' His volume stayed the same, but his voice was sharper, more insistent.

Her eyes shot up to meet his for the first time since he'd walked in. Russell never got annoyed with her, about anything. What if something happened at work today? Maybe he'd gotten in a fight with that associate producer who was always such a jerk. Or maybe the network had decided to change his time slot again? They'd been talking about tinkering with the schedule, and Russell was terrified he was going to get bumped out of prime time. Come to think of it, he had said earlier that day that he wanted to talk to her about something. What if, god forbid, something even more drastic had happened, and for some unknown, unpredictable, totally bizarre reason Russell had been fired? You couldn't very well go and break up with someone the same day they got fired, could you? Not if you had a shred of human decency, you couldn't – not even in the same month. Leigh shivered just thinking about it.

‘Leigh, what's going on with you? You've been an absolute wreck for weeks on end, and I have absolutely no idea why.'

‘You didn't get fired?'

‘What? What on earth are you talking about?'

‘I thought you were going to tell me you got fired.'

‘Of course I didn't get fired. And I know we were supposed to go over all the wedding stuff tonight, but I think it's more important that we talk about you. What is it, Leigh?'

Well, it wasn't going to get any easier than that. He had literally gifted her with the most perfect opening imaginable. She took a deep breath, dug her fingernails into her palms again, and started talking.

‘Russell, I know this is hard – it kills me even to say it – but I want to be straight with you.' She stared at the floor, could feel him watching her. ‘I think we should take a break.'

Well, okay, so that wasn't entirely truthful – a break implied a desire to work things out eventually – but at least she'd managed to get something out.

‘A what?' Russell asked. Leigh looked up to see the unflappable Russell appearing completely confused, which unnerved her even more.

‘I, um, I think we need to take some time. To think things over.'

At this, Russell jumped off the couch and enveloped her in his arms. ‘Leigh, what are you talking about, “take some time”? We're engaged to be
married
, sweetheart. We've got our whole lives ahead of us. Do you really want to wait to start all of that?'

Russell's hug was very much like what Leigh imagined it would feel like to get run over by a bus. Her lungs refused to fill with oxygen, and it was getting hard to ignore the pressure and flashes of light behind her eyes. But she knew she must persevere.

‘Russell, I'm not sure I
want
us to get married,' she said softly, as softly as she could say such cruel words.

Russell's silence was so complete that she would have wondered if he'd even heard her had he not pulled away and sat back down.

She sat next to him, close enough for intimacy but not so close that they were touching. ‘Russ, do you love me? Like, really, really love me? Love me so much you want to spend the rest of your life with me and me alone?'

He remained stoically silent.

‘Do you?' she pressed, thinking – knowing – that the answer was surely no. If she'd suspected for so long that something wasn't right, he must have, too. She just needed to give him the chance to say it.

He took a deep breath and reached for her hand. He smiled. ‘Of course I love you that much, Leigh. That's why I asked you to marry me. You're my partner, my fiancée, my love. And I'm yours. I know it can be frightening sometimes when you realize you've found something this good, but Leigh, sweetheart, that's normal. I can't believe this is what's been worrying you all this time. Just a little case of cold feet. Poor baby, I'm sorry you kept that inside for so long.'

He stopped long enough to hug her again, but this time Leigh pushed him away. His refusal to hear – to really listen – to what she was saying angered her: Was it really so impossible to fathom that she might not want to marry him?

‘Russell, you're not listening to me. You know I love you, but I can't stop wondering if things didn't move so quickly with us because of circumstances, you know? You start dating someone at this age and they fit all the criteria of being smart and successful and attractive and everyone else is getting married and they're all asking you when you're going to settle down. And it just chugs right along. What might have been a great, fun, yearlong relationship when you're twenty-five all of a sudden starts to take on a whole new meaning at thirty, thirty-two. Then, before you know it, you're getting engaged and committing your life to someone you don't necessarily know all that well. Because “it's time,” whatever that means. Christ, I'm not explaining this well …'

Russell's gaze, just minutes before oozing empathy and kindness, grew steely. ‘Actually, I think you're explaining yourself quite clearly.'

‘So you sort of understand what I'm saying?'

‘You're saying that you think this is all wrong and has been for some time but you never had the nerve to tell me.'

Now she wanted to tell Russell the whole truth, tell him all about Jesse and how happy and relaxed she felt when she was with him, how that single night of sex stayed more firmly planted in her mind than eighteen months' worth with Russell.

She was seconds away from blurting out the entire story when, thankfully, she stopped herself. What would be the point of telling him about Jesse? Was it really the charitable thing to do? Russell wouldn't have to take the rejection quite so personally if he could channel his energy into hating Leigh for her indiscretion. That didn't feel right, either. Why hurt him unnecessarily? But was it wrong to keep it from him, considering the conventional wisdom that it's noble to be completely honest and up-front? Confused and exhausted, she decided not to say anything. From the coldness of his last statement and the look in his eye, Russell didn't appear interested in much more talking. Why make everything harder than it had to be?

Suddenly he surprised her by grabbing her face and staring into her eyes.

‘Look, Leigh, I know what you are feeling is nothing more than normal, natural cold feet. Why don't you take some time for yourself, you know, alone, like you suggested, and think about everything? Think it through.'

Leigh sighed to herself. His pleading look was almost more unbearable than his anger. ‘Russ, I'm, uh … I'm—'
Say it
, she willed herself,
just pull the Band-Aid off quickly.
‘I'm worried that will just prolong the inevitable. I think we should end things now.'

Obviously this was true. She knew there was no point – no point whatsoever – in dragging this out, no matter how much less terrifying it might be to delay the unpleasantness. She knew beyond any doubt that things were permanently over, but hearing her own words was still downright shocking.

Russell stood up and walked toward the door. ‘Well,' he said quietly, in that controlled voice of his that worked so well on-air. ‘I suppose there's nothing more to say. I love you, Leigh, and I always will, but I'd like you to leave.'

These were the words that Leigh repeated to herself as she rode home in the backseat of the first cab she'd ever hailed for herself when leaving his apartment. Almost as quickly as it had begun, her relationship with Russell was over, and gone with it was the anxiety she'd been harboring for months. She took a long, deep breath, and as the taxi flew up Sixth Avenue toward her building, she finally admitted to herself that, yes, she felt deeply sad about what had just transpired, but mostly she felt relief.

‘Emmy, I've been telling you this since the very first time you walked into my office. You have plenty of time.'

‘That's not what all the magazines out there say!' Emmy said and pointed toward the door. ‘Isn't it a mixed message to tell me that I've got all the time in the world and then stock your waiting room with a thousand articles that all tell me my ovaries are shriveling up?'

Dr. Kim sighed. She was a pretty Asian woman who looked at least fifteen years younger than her forty-two years, but this wasn't what bothered Emmy. The good doctor – who reassured Emmy at every single visit (and sometimes in between) that Emmy's childbearing years were still upon her – had herself birthed three perfect children, two boys and a girl, all before her thirty-first birthday. When Emmy repeatedly asked Dr. Kim how she'd juggled a husband, med school, residency, and three children under the age of five, all while working four days a week and being on call every third night and every other weekend, the doctor just smiled, shrugged, and said, ‘You just do it. It seems impossible sometimes, but it always works out one way or another.'

Emmy was lying spread-eagled on the exam table exactly one day before her thirtieth birthday, and she was determined to hear the heartening news again. ‘Tell me about your average patient,' Emmy prompted, barely even noticing Dr. Kim's gloved finger inside her. She felt the pinch of the Pap smear Q-tip and held her breath to keep from moving.

‘Emmy! You could tell it to me. I've told you a hundred times already.'

‘One more won't hurt.'

Dr. Kim removed her finger and snapped off her glove. She sighed again. ‘I have approximately two hundred and fifty patients in my practice at this location. Of those women, the average age for first-time pregnancy is thirty-four. Which of course means that—'