Page 9 of Still the One

Jamie turns to us. Her cheeks are dry. We haven’t exchanged many words since I stormed out of her room this morning, so it’s still awkward between us, despite the boys’ effort to diffuse things.

I send her a small smile.

“Are you okay?” she mouths. Even though I can’t actually hear the words, I understand, because even though I believed—I hoped—I had forgotten, I remember so much. I remember everything. I remember how she used to silently ask if I was okay like that, her big, kind eyes instantly reassuring me, because Jamie always had my back—until she didn’t.

I nod and look away because all of this shouldn’t still be so painful. I was supposed to be over this. I am over this. Maybe I should have let that conversation earlier actually happen, let my emotions run riot for an hour or so, in order to deal with this wedding better. Because Jamie and I were getting married. It was all planned. The invitations were ready to go out so people could save the date. June 14th 2003 was going to be the most beautiful day of my life so far. Turns out, it was one of the most horrible, rivaling the day she confessed she was madly in love with Cherry and she couldn’t possibly stay with me.

Why the hell is she wearing a tuxedo, anyway? It looks dashing on her, for sure, but she looks like she’s dressed for her own wedding instead of attending a friend’s.

“Come on.” Alan’s voice is surprisingly solemn. He curls an arm around my shoulders and Charles does the same to Jamie.

Alan holds me tight and for a woman who’s never had a need for a man’s arm around her, I’m thankful for the unexpected warmth of it. For the friendship he’s giving me right now. For the strength I can draw from it. I’d never have guessed I’d need it so badly.

Chapter 6

Jamie

Even though Mac was so cold with me earlier, I can’t for the life of me keep my eyes off her. She looks stunning in that red dress, with her hair slicked back like that. If Sandra were the kind of bride who cares about that sort of thing, she could accuse Mac of stealing her thunder, and she’d be right. Or maybe it’s just me suffering from this strange affliction that has my gaze drawn back to her every few seconds.

Alan and Charles are masters at keeping a conversation going, even when they’re seated between two exes and it’s all a bit tricky.

Mac is being plenty nice and civil. The past couple of hours, the four of us have burst into spontaneous laughter a few times, making me wonder whether that episode in my room this morning actually happened. But this is what Mac does for a living. She dons her glad rags and puts up a front. That’s what television is for.

“Which song do you think their first dance will be to?” Alan drums his fingertips against each other.

“I know what it’s going to be,” Mac says. “I introduced the song to Sandra and Tyrone.”

“You?” I ask. When we first got together in college, I was the one making cool mix tapes for Mac.

Mac nods slowly.

“Don’t keep us in suspense, darling.” Alan all but pokes her in the arm.

“I’m sworn to secrecy, so don’t even try to guess. The song’s not been released yet. No one here apart from San and Tyrone—and me—will have heard it.”

Alan’s eyes go wide. “Is it a brand-new Isabel Adler song?”

“Nope,” Mac says smugly. When did she become the person introducing her friends to new music? Did she develop a new interest after getting to know Isabel Adler via her ex, Leila?

I wish we could have a conversation long enough for me to catch up on her life of the past twenty years.

“But it’s so gorgeous and kind of meta and just absolutely right for the moment,” Mac says. “You’ll see.”

“You tease.” Alan gives Mac a look of mock disapproval.

“Surely it won’t be long now.” Mac blows Alan a kiss. I’m a little jealous of how quickly the two of them seem to have gone back to how they were before everything fell apart. It’s a million times easier when no romantic love—and heartbreak—was involved.

“I hope you brought your dancing shoes, darling,” Alan says to her. “Because you and I will be on that floor as soon as we’re allowed.” Mac and Alan were always the first two on any dance floor. For all her questionable taste in music—at the time—Mac was always the sexiest dancer. Come to think of it, I have no idea how I will react to seeing her on the dance floor, wearing that sensational dress. Despite knowing better, my heart skips a beat at the prospect. If only she didn’t look so damn magnificent.

“Can’t wait,” Mac says. Then the moment arrives and the DJ calls the newlyweds to the dance floor. Sandra stands there beaming like the tropical sun while Tyrone thanks us all again for coming. The thought hits me out of nowhere. That this could have been Mac and me twenty years ago. Our commitment ceremony would have been much less glamorous, but that could still have been me, thanking our loved ones for celebrating our love with us. I’m taken aback by the powerful sense of deflation running through me. It’s this wedding. It’s all this love around us. All these happy people with their plus-ones. Even Alan has found himself an absolute stunner of a man to marry. Whereas I left the woman I considered to be the one for me for a fling that didn’t even last a year. I threw away the greatest love I’ve ever known for what turned out to be not much more than a crush. A fleeting feeling followed by an avalanche of regret. Mac might not want to hear my apologies—and I can’t blame her for that—but that won’t stop me for being sorry for what I did. For what I squandered.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She has her gaze firmly fixed on Sandra and Tyrone, a gentle smile on her face. How can she still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? How is that even possible? She’s so self-assured and poised. She didn’t come close to breaking, not even a hint of a crack, when she was in my room today. Unless she fled at such speed to avoid it. The truth is that I don’t know much about Mac any longer. All I know is that she’s not the same woman I left twenty years ago. She can’t be.

Sandra and Tyrone have assumed their positions on the dance floor. The first bars of Mac’s mystery song play. Instantly, Alan clasps his hands to his chest—as though Isabel Adler herself has just descended from the heavens to serenade him personally. But it’s not an Isabel Adler song. Is it? Since her comeback, Isabel Adler has a whole new style of singing, much more subtle and pared back—much more to my own personal taste, to be honest. It is an Isabel Adler song, but it’s not her voice.

“Oh my god, kill me now,” Alan says on a dramatic sigh, his voice close to breaking. “My favorite song in the whole wide world.”

I recognize the words of Isabel Adler’s biggest hit, “Somewhere I’ve Never Been”, but the musical arrangement is completely different than the original as well as the phrasing of the lyrics, making it sound like a brand-new song.

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