The foursome do come together for a Friday night dinner at the Central Park apartment Rachel shares with Mark. Emily, despite her good feelings towards Rachel and Mark, is not thrilled to be attending. She has had dinner with the pair several times, finding their company enjoyable. However, she wishes Noah had consulted with her prior to agreeing to the evening. She's had a difficult week at work, losing two cases for her law firm, and regardless of the success she is experiencing in her personal life, her head is not in the mood for a celebratory occasion. She wishes they could have ordered take-out and watched a movie, something simple and that required wearing sweats and not dressing up. She flips through the clothes in her closet, finally settling on the standard black dress, and walks into the bathroom to get ready.
She stays quiet for a long time before the words finally come rushing out of her.
"Why can't we give them our good wishes at their engagement party? I was hoping we could stay in tonight, I've had a ridiculous week at work, Noah," she says, watching Noah put on his clothes in the corner of her bathroom mirror. She gives him a look in the mirror as she puts on her make-up, and he comes over.
He puts his hands around her waist, his teeth nipping on her ear. She groans, she loves the way he makes her feel.
"I promise to make it up to you later, babe. I promise."
Emily flashes a half-smile, still unhappy at attending. He hoists her onto the bathroom sink, kissing her.
"It'll be fun," he says, kissing her neck, his mouth trailing downwards to her collar bone. Emily thinks she could get into this, and perhaps peeling him out of his clothes will lead him to stay home. She moves her hands around his belt, trying to tug it loose. Startled, she nearly falls when he lets her go.
"I have to go put on my shoes, we're going to be late," yells Noah as he fixes his belt. He walks out of the bathroom, leaving a disappointed Emily in his wake. "We'll rain check this."
Sighing heavily, and not bothering to issue a response, she climbs off the sink to continue getting ready. She attempts to quiet the grumbling thoughts inside of her, resolving to not say anything else.
On the other side of the park, Rachel and Mark find themselves in the midst of a similar disagreement. Mark sits down on the couch as he watches Rachel race through the room, adjusting various items to make sure everything looks suitable for their guests.
"I was looking forward to staying home with you, Rach. You don't have rehearsals for your new production, I don't have a lot of work. It's not too late to cancel, you know. We could enjoy a quiet evening in the apartment, just the two of us. I could even be persuaded to have sex on the couch."
"We are staying home, Mark. And that couch was just reupholstered."
"You know what I meant," he answers, rolling his eyes at her tone. He's met Noah several times over the years. He's not completely terrible. Still, between the choice of staying in with his fiancée or celebrating with another couple, the choice is likely to be obvious.
She turns to face him, slight waves of anger visible in her eyes.
"They're our friends and it would be nice to celebrate our engagement together. I don't understand why you are causing a scene."
She turns back around, continuing to dust the shelves. Mark keeps silent, watching her clean. He bites his tongue before he can correct her usage of the possessive pronouns. Your friend, he wants to say. He is your friend, Rach.
Opening the door, Rachel can't hide the excitement when she sees Noah and Emily. Despite her original reservations, she's taken an enormous liking to the woman. She finds her strong and bold, not to mention attractive. Rachel throws her arms around the pair, nearly squashing them both in the process.
She attempts a subtle head gesture to Mark and he walks over, shaking hands with Noah and kissing Emily on the cheek. Rachel elbows him when she realizes he hasn't wiped the sullen look off his features.
"We're so happy to have you here," says Rachel, bringing out glasses for the wine Noah brought. There is vague music playing in the background, quiet enough to not overtake the conversation but loud enough to provide commentary on.
"It was our pleasure," replies Emily, her voice filled with what she hopes is warmth. She is still seething about having to come to the dinner. The conversation flows easily between the two couples. The pieces of quiet are stifled as easily as they come. Several hours into the conversation, Rachel is amazed at how wonderfully everything is flowing. The food is delicious, and Mark has stopped sulking, finally animated in conversation.
However, the conversation soon comes to a halt when Emily stops chewing, clearly uncomfortable with the newest bite she has taken. She brings her hand to her mouth, evidently queasy.
"I'm rather sorry, Rachel, but it seems as I'm no longer feeling well. Is it possible for me to lay down and rest for a little while?"
Rachel looks concerned, and immediately stands, sticking out her hand.
"Of course, Em. Come along, I'll show you the guest room."
The pair walk away, leaving a sullen Mark with Noah. Mark continues to take brief sips of his wine, casually observing Noah from the corner of his eye. He's at a loss at how to continue the conversation, not knowing the other man very well. He's heard the history between Rachel and her high school friend, knowing that the two dated briefly in high school and the relationship never panned out. He's kept a careful eye on Rachel when Noah re-appeared into her life, carefully scrutinizing the body language between the pair. He's never had any reason to believe that the relationship is more than platonic but still, it is rather necessary to keep an eye on the close male friend. After all, it is rather odd that Noah proposed to his girlfriend so soon after Rachel became engaged.
Soon enough, the silence grows awkward between the pair. Noah looks around the place, frantically searching for something to discuss. Slightly frowning, he realizes there is nothing available at his disposal.
"So, how do you like banking? Rachel tells me you received your MBA from NYU. Right where you met, actually." Upon hearing the words leave his mouth, Noah wants to hit himself in the forehead. He wonders why he couldn't choose something more, well, manly.
Mark looks at Noah as though he has suddenly sprouted three heads. He is careful to disguise his amusement with regards to the question.
"Banking is fine," he replies finally. "The way that it has been for the past several years. Sluggish growth. Are you familiar with the industry? What is it exactly you do again? Rachel has never been too clear with details relating to your profession."
Noah takes another sip of his drink, resolving to keep his calm. He tries to remember what it is specifically that he liked about the other man. Other than that Rachel liked him.
"Private. I doubt it would interest you."
Mark leans back in his chair. He puts his hands behind his head, a light smirk trailing the edges of his mouth.
"Try me."
Before Noah could respond, Rachel waltzes back into the room. Noah tries to hide his glee with her re-appearance. Had she spent any more time away, he believes he would have been likely to do something inappropriate, something along the lines of wiping Mark's smirk off his face.
"Welcome back, gorgeous. Is Emily feeling well?"
Rachel sits down in her chair, tying her hair in a loose ponytail. Normally, she feels flattered with regards to the term of endearment. She finds it rather unsettling this evening. She wonders if it correlates to Noah's presence at the table.
"She's taking a light nap. Hopefully, it's nothing more serious than needing some rest," she responds, looking between Noah and Mark. Both echo unreadable expressions. She continues to look back and forth between the two, possessing the feeling of interrupting something important. She wants to say something that would answer her question but she chooses to say nothing instead.
"What did you two discuss in my absence?"
The two men exchange glances, and both shrug at the same time.
"Nothing, Mark was just discussing his career with me. Rather fascinating," replies Noah. He looks around the room; the tension at the table clearly palpable.
Rachel attempts to continue the conversation, much of the dialogue spoken at the table is spoken by her. She discusses her new Broadway role, the lead in Spring Awakening. She had desired the part for quite a while, and received the script only a week earlier. She chats eagerly with regards to the script, sharing the information that she possesses.
Noah glances at his watch after some time has passed, taking note of the late hour.
"I'm going to go wake up Emily, it's rather late. We should be heading off. Thanks for a great evening."
Rachel waves her hand in disagreement. It would be in poor taste if she turned Noah away into the night at this late hour.
"Nonsense. It's fine, Noah. You can occupy the guest bedroom. You know, the same one where your fiancée currently sleeps in."
She leans onto Mark, wiping the tiredness out of her eyes. He puts his arm around her waist to steady her, careful to keep an eye on Noah's reaction to the gesture.
"I don't want to impose, I could just call a cab."
"Really, it's fine. What are guest bedrooms for?" asks Mark. He shoots Noah a tired smile, gripping Rachel closer, and Noah feels awkward under the weight of the stare. Mark is staring at him, almost as though he expects Noah to try something while spending the night. Noah wants to laugh at the absurd notion; as if him and Berry have ever been close with anything but platonic relations.
Noah stares, finally nodding. It is rather late, he thinks.
Rachel kisses Mark, Noah looking away. He's seen her kiss Mark a significant amount of times through the years he's known her, and it's never come to bother him before. He brushes the feeling aside, blaming it on the amount of alcohol consumed tonight.
Mark walks into the master bedroom, and Rachel grins up at Noah.
"Come on, we have to make a stop by the hallway closet to give you a bed spread and sheets. Emily already fell asleep in there, so I assume that she has some covering, but I don't know if she has a pillow or anything else for you."
He shrugs, beyond the point of caring at this late hour. He watches her take out several items from the closet, holding it out to him in her hands. He stares at her, and even tired, she looks beautiful.
He leans in, his eyes alarming close, and she can see the multicolored flecks of his eyes. Rachel thinks he's moved too close, he's close enough for her to lean in and kiss him. Briefly, she remembers he was a good kisser. She wonders if his technique would improve. He brushes a loose hair away, and grins lopsidedly. She means to tell him good night, but she continues to stare; they both stare. There is a faraway voice inside her head, whispering how ridiculous it be standing in the hallway with him at this time of hour, almost as though she doesn't want to leave.
She clears her throat uncomfortably. There is tension thickening around them. He takes the bedsheets from her, and walks into the spare bedroom without a glance behind her. Rachel leans her forehead against the door, her hand on her heart to steady her breathing.
That's never happened before, she thinks. She's never had that sort of reaction being in his presence. She shakes her head, smiling wryly. It's likely to be the alcohol playing with her mind. She'll know better not to consume as much next time.
She walks back to her room, peeling off her dress as she walks inside.
"Mark," she says quietly, whispering in the dark. "Tonight wasn't so bad, was it? I thought it went rather well.
"Mark," she says again. Crawling into bed, she realizes he's already fast asleep, disappointing her. She wonders why he's asleep; he never falls asleep this quickly, and often, he's the one keeping her awake. She counts his breaths, steady and sure.
He snores, not quite the answer she was expecting, and she turns back around. She's not quite sure why she attempted to wake him, not quite sure what she needed to say that was so important at close to one in the morning. She sighs, staring at her closet. She lays awake for a long time, staring into the shadows.