Page 17 of Still the One

I push myself as close to her as I can because I may never get the chance to feel her body against mine like this again. I can do that now. I can allow myself at least this. Even though we’re basically strangers now, it still feels a bit like coming home.

After a few moments, I realize we’re barely still dancing. Our feet hardly move and our hips only sway lightly. We’re holding each other in the middle of this dance floor, holding onto something we lost a long time ago. I don’t even know if the song has changed. It’s still slow and when I look up, I see other twosomes dancing together closely.

“I don’t want to let go,” Jamie whispers in my ear.

“I don’t want you to,” I reply. What the hell?

“We can’t stay like this forever.” Her breath is hot against my neck. “Once the music changes, this will not be a good look for us.”

“Do you, um, want to talk some more? In my room?” What am I doing by inviting her to my room? But it’s a logical consequence of this evening—of this day and this trip. The alternative is going to bed and tossing and turning all night long, pondering all the questions I wanted to ask her but didn’t get a chance to. Or wondering if it would have been fun to hang out with Jamie. Whether that was something I was capable of. Whether I’ve truly let go of the past and we can be a version of friends again.

“Very much so.” Jamie’s chin bumps against my shoulder. “Not to be funny about this, but it will look, um, a little weird if we both leave now after this dance.”

“Poor Alan won’t sleep a wink.”

“Sandra’s wedding night might be ruined.”

“I can do stealthy. For the sake of our friends.”

“Let’s give it a few more songs. Then I’ll say my goodbyes,” Jamie suggests.

The fact that we’re making this a secret rendezvous adds excitement to the whole thing. Unless Jamie thinks I invited her to my room for something other than continuing our conversation. That’s not what I meant.

I think.

I’m sure.

Chapter 10

Jamie

I can’t believe this is happening—or maybe there was only one way for this to go when Mac and I were finally in the same space again. Maybe it could only go how it always went between us. Because from the very first moment we met, more than thirty years ago, we’ve been drawn to each other. When I first clasped eyes on her in that dorm at NYU, I never wanted to look away again. And here we are, three decades later, with all that history between us, and I still only have eyes for her.

My intoxication is no longer an aftereffect of the weed I smoked earlier. It’s all due to dancing with her, talking to her, just being near her. And I know it’s all heightened by our circumstances. It all feels a little more intense than it might have if we’d bumped into each other back home—she’d probably have run a mile in the opposite direction.

“I’m exhausted.” I hug Alan and Charles goodnight. I’ve already said my goodbyes to the bride and groom. “It’s been a day and I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Alan gives me a quizzical look. All that champagne they drank might have caught up with his husband, however.

“Do you want me to tuck Charles in?” I ask.

“I don’t need tucking in, James,” Charles slurs. “Do you?”

“No, darling. Good night.” I kiss him quickly on the cheek. Then there’s only Mac to say a pro forma good night to. Unless she has changed her mind.

I put a hand on her bare shoulder. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” I say.

“And you.” Mac smiles at me as though changing her mind about inviting me up is the last thing she wants to do. “Sleep tight,” she says.

As I leave, I’m of half a mind to go to the beach and check if those kids with the weed are still there. It’s a silly idea, but I’m nervous. Mac’s invitation was ambiguous. I should have zero expectations, but it’s impossible. On top of that, it really has been a long day. We’ve both had to process so many emotions. I should be locking myself in my room to decompress and catch up on the sleep I didn’t get last night. But that’s not what I want to do at all.

I let the door fall shut behind me. I don’t know what to do with myself. Normally, I’d get undressed, but I still have a date. I still have to leave. I should have invited her to my room instead of agreeing to meet in hers. It would have been more practical. But I can’t be doing any of the inviting or the instigating. I need to give Mac the space to make her own decisions. That’s the only way it can be. How will I even know she’s in her room? Will she—

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Mac says.

She’s here? I quickly let her in. The first thing she does is rest her back against the door and kick her shoes off.

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