Page 24 of Still the One

She’s totally right.

“I’m getting a vibe,” Alan says. “I’m not one to keep a vibe to myself. Something’s messing with the peaceful atmosphere at this table.” He pins his gaze on me, then on Mac. “Did you have a fight?” He purses his lips as though it’s a foregone conclusion—as though he’s solved the mystery of the distressed vibes already.

“No,” is all Mac says.

“You saw them on the dance floor last night, babe,” Charles reminds Alan. “That did not look like two people fighting to me. On the contrary.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Oh!” Alan’s jaw slackens. “Oh,” he repeats.

“I’m surprised you remember, Charles,” I try to change the subject. “You sure do love a glass of champagne, darling.”

“That doesn’t mean I lose my eyesight when I’ve had a few.” Charles slants his head, then nods. “Hm.”

“What?” Mac asks.

“It’s not our business, really.” Alan sounds as though a juicy piece of gossip is suddenly the last thing on his mind. “Is it, babe?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles confirms.

Right. My turn to see through this silly pantomime. Alan and Charles already know and they’re trying to draw us out. I glance over at Mac. She shrugs. Does she no longer care that Alan and Charles know? She’s leaving tomorrow so that could very well be the case.

“I mean,” Alan says, because he just can’t help himself. “If you think I have the emotional intelligence of a snail, go ahead and think so little of me. But I’ll have you know I can read a room like no other and, well…”

“I saw you.” Charles points at Mac. “Go into her room.” He points at me. “After we went upstairs last night.”

“When we called your room this morning, Mac,” Alan sounds almost accusatory, “you weren’t there.”

“None of that means anything,” I start to say.

“It’s okay, Jamie.” Mac puts a hand on my arm and her touch shoots through me like a bolt of lightning. “We’re among friends.” She draws her lips into a wide smile—her TV smile. Her hand remains on my arm, burning red-hot against my skin. “Jamie and I spent the night together and it was, um, lovely. You probably have a bunch of questions, but we’re not going to answer those, because it’s private.”

My brain is still stuck on Mac calling our night together lovely. I’d call it more something like extraordinary or magnificent, but I won’t complain.

“You can quiz Jamie all you want after I’ve left tomorrow,” Mac continues. “But for me, it’s private, and I’d appreciate if it didn’t leave this table.”

“Just so you know, Sandra was speculating when I ran into her earlier,” Charles says, “but she’s newly married so easily distracted.”

“She and Tyrone barely made it out of their room all day.” Alan pulls a face, which is funny, because of all the things to frown upon, he picks that.

“We did agree,” Charles says, “that if either one of us had married Tyrone yesterday, we wouldn’t have let him out of the room all day either.” He and Alan giggle like schoolgirls. I chuckle along because it’s all a bit silly and funny and awkward.

As dinner progresses, I find myself getting more and more nervous. Every inch of me wants to spend another night with Mac, but I don’t know how to go about it. Last night, she was the one who suggested we continue the conversation in her room. She was the one who instigated everything. I still don’t feel entitled to make a move on her, so the only choice I have is to wait for a hint. She hasn’t dropped any so far, and I’ve been very attentive to the tiniest of clues. She’s put her hand on my arm a few times, but that’s it—and it’s not enough.

As we settle the bill, a sadness creeps up on me because Mac could also decide that she never wants to see me again. If that’s what she wants, I have to respect that. Just like I did after Cherry and I broke up and it dawned on me what a terrible mistake I had made. My first instinct was to get back in touch with Mac and beg for her forgiveness but, by then, it was made perfectly clear to me by anyone I asked for advice that Mac didn’t want anything to do with me ever again and I’d better respect that choice.

On the short walk back to the hotel, Alan monopolizes Mac, making sure she has his number, and demanding hers. Her flight tomorrow is early and they’re saying goodbye tonight—goodbye for now, Alan keeps on repeating. Lucky him that he can do that. But he didn’t tear Mac’s heart to pieces. That was all me.

I wait until Mac has hugged Alan and Charles and promised to be in touch soon.

“Do you want to go for a stroll?” I ask her when we’re alone.

“Sure.” Mac doesn’t need an evening gown to look spectacular. She looks even better in shorts and a simple blouse. More like herself. Besides, everything looks good on her. Everything—I catch myself before I get too carried away.

We head to the beach and walk side by side in silence. A million thoughts race through my head and I can’t seem to land on one to start the conversation with.

“Let’s not go too far,” Mac says, after a while. “I have to pack and I leave for the airport at seven tomorrow morning.”

“Anything I can do to help?” I say, stupidly. Why is it suddenly so difficult for us to have a simple conversation? Or maybe last night was a fluke and this is how things really are.

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