Page 23 of Still the One

“Let’s see if my memory is as good as I believe it to be.” I close my eyes so I can focus, then I rattle off her number.

“Color me impressed.” Jamie’s eyes have gone wide. “You remember my phone number!”

“I memorized it back then and I guess my memory is fully intact.” I want to say that I don’t remember the number specifically because it’s hers, but what’s the point of clarifying that? And I do actually remember. The things our brains choose to hold on to.

“In that case, I’ll look forward to your call.”

“We’ll see.” It’s all I can say because I don’t know if I want to have coffee with Jamie. Maybe it would be different if I hadn’t slept with her—and if it hadn’t been so damn satisfying.

Chapter 14

Jamie

Instead of seeing the sights she claimed she so desperately wanted to see, Mac stayed in her room most of the morning, and was lounging by the pool for the better part of the afternoon. It’s coming up to dinner time and Alan and Charles, who did get an excellent night’s sleep, have their eye on a beach-side bistro as the venue for our saying-goodbye-to-Mac dinner.

I’d love to have Mac to myself tonight, and a good long while after, but I have no idea what she wants—and the ball’s firmly in her court. I made my intentions clear when I said I wanted to spend time with her and I’d like to meet up in New York. That’s all I can do.

I’m strolling on the beach when my phone beeps. It’s a message from a number that’s not stored in my phone.

Those gays are relentless about having dinner. ??

It must be from Mac. My heart skips a beat. My phone beeps again. A new message rolls in.

I can’t tell them my body can’t cope with a near-sleepless night any longer. Imagine the interrogation I’d be subjected to.

I text back:

Sorry-not-sorry for keeping you up all night. ??

Last night was like a dream. If I didn’t have these messages from Mac on my phone referring to it, and confirming it really happened, I’d be questioning my sanity. I actually slept with Mac. Alan might not be able to process this information, but he’s not alone.

When we woke, Mac didn’t hurry out of my room, saying it was all a big mistake. We even had breakfast together on the balcony. It was all so much more than I could ever have hoped for. Of course, I want more, because sleeping with her was sublime—both because we are former lovers and because there was an exciting novelty to it nonetheless. But I may very well want that now, in this dreamy location, surrounded by romantic wedding vibes, away from my normal life, but who knows how I will feel when my feet touch down on New York soil again?

Another message announces itself.

I’ll see you and the gays for dinner in an hour then.

If I asked Alan, he’d happily give me the chance to dine with Mac alone, but we promised not to tell him and Charles. Come to think of it, I wonder why. We’re all adults.

“Hey, lady!” One of the potheads from last night shouts at me. With two fingers, he makes a smoking gesture.

I wave him off. That was last night. That was before.

I clearly remember Mac’s words of this morning. “This isn’t a thing.” Maybe we should start by defining ‘thing’. Or maybe it can only be ambiguous. Because there’s so much history between us. So much pain, but also so much love. If only it hadn’t been so much fun, so thoroughly and utterly fantastic—despite me breaking down in her arms. But maybe that was exactly what I needed so I can finally wipe that slate clean. And even though I know very well the ball is in Mac’s court, maybe I can at least admit to myself that I would love to see her again in New York. That I’d love to do much more than go for coffee. That I’d like to take her on a date. Spend another night with her. That I’d like to make it very clear to her that seeing her only confirmed what I’ve known all along. That leaving her was a huge mistake and that I would give anything for another chance. To find out if we’re still so good together.

Part of me also knows it’s silly to think like this. We had one night together, which was based more on sentimental nostalgia than anything else. Although the sparks between us were undeniable—and the speed with which she came. Mac was into me, that much is sure. It was intimate and beautiful and maybe—but that could be my brain playing tricks on me—even a bit loving. Maybe a love like ours never fully goes away. Maybe parts of it linger in our hearts forever, like embers that can be stoked into a burning fire again. But I’m getting way ahead of myself. And we still have tonight. Who knows what will happen after dinner. If she gives me the slightest opening, I will make a move.

I have to.

I text back.

Please wear that red dress again.

I might as well start flirting already.

She answers immediately.

I’m not sure you can handle it.

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