Page 27 of Still the One

“I’d still like to meet Jamie.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because even though you broke up twenty years ago, she is the woman who has shaped the course of your life the most. The woman who has made you into the person you have become. The woman you promptly ended up in bed with the second you laid eyes on her again. I think it’s high time I met Jamie.”

I’d like to think I’m the woman who has shaped the course of my life the most. “I just told you I don’t want to see her again.”

“I guess this is my way of suggesting that you might want to reconsider that.” Leila puts her glass to the side. “You slept with her, Mac. I know that’s a big deal. You don’t sleep around.”

“Jamie’s not just anyone.”

“Obviously.” She pats my knee. “Think about it.” She grins at me. “You can have us all over for dinner at that swanky penthouse of yours.”

“But I hate cooking,” I stammer.

“This is New York. You don’t have to cook at your own dinner party. There are thousands of caterers.” She keeps on grinning. “Argument rejected. Try again.”

She’s trying to get me to say that I really, really, really don’t want to see Jamie again, but I can’t say that. Leila’s right. I did sleep with Jamie, just like that, after all that time.

“It’s not the worst idea.” I drum my fingertips on the arm rest of the couch. “Don’t you have to check with Izzy?”

“I’ll text her right now.” Leila reaches for her phone. “Actually, I’ll call her. I can’t explain all this via text.” She grins at me.

Leila is the very personification of how Jamie screwed up my life. It was easy enough to fall for her. She’s smart, accomplished, and absolutely gorgeous. Her only flaw was that she wasn’t Jamie Sullivan. When I met Leila, years had gone by since Jamie left me, and I still couldn’t open myself up to her completely. I couldn’t fully let her in because what if she left me out of the blue as well? What if we became really serious about our relationship and truly committed to one another, only for her to pull the rug from under my life? These were all very real possibilities and I never managed to exist in a new relationship without that chip on my shoulder. Because if Jamie could do it, the best person I’d ever met, the woman I trusted the most, then so could anyone else.

Leila calls Izzy right in front of me. I try to tune out their loved-up chitchat, but it’s not possible. I don’t begrudge anyone their luck in romance, nor do I feel sorry for myself that I never found it again. Because Leila does have a point that if I’d really wanted to, I would have found a way to love again. I only had to hear the exact same thing from the therapist I saw every single week throughout my thirties. I’m almost fifty now and the only conclusion I can draw is that Jamie broke something in me that never managed to heal. Whether that’s through my own doing or because of the severity of the fracture, I may never know. It’s probably a bit of both.

Or, maybe, it’s as simple as me never wanting to be with anyone but Jamie. As ludicrous as it sounds, I’ve entertained the thought more than once. Maybe, for me, there was only one person who could be the love of my life, and I lost her to someone else. But if that were really the case, surely my heart would have started opening up again when Jamie and Cherry broke up. When I heard that she wanted to make amends with me. But instead of jumping for joy, my heart shrank even farther at the prospect of seeing her again.

“Mac.” Leila waves at me, her phone pressed against her ear. “You can vouch for this Alan? We only have your word to go on that he isn’t some homicidal maniac.”

“I can.” I only spent a few days with Alan and I can’t really vouch for anything, but I knew him years ago, and he’s one of Jamie and Sandra’s best friends—and I trust their judgements. “He also has a wonderful husband. Charles. You’ll love them. They’re excellent company.” Thank goodness Alan and Charles were at that wedding. I’m not sure how I would have faced Jamie alone. Them meeting Isabel Adler can be my thank-you for being there, for defusing the tension and adding a light note to what otherwise could have been a difficult situation.

Leila and Izzy say their goodbyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” Leila says.

“Sounds more like you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“How about we both get something out of it?” Leila rises. “Isn’t that the very definition of a deal?” She smiles down at me. “Let’s eat. The tahdig will be ready.”

Chapter 16

Jamie

We were still in Maui when Alan got the text from Mac. His eyes nearly fell out of his head reading it. He had to show his phone screen to Charles several times to reconfirm before he could actually believe it. It was only after he processed the shock that he said, “Oh, and James, you’re invited too.” Then I had my own shock to process. But here I am, another week later, a bottle of excellent wine in my hand—I considered it too weird to bring a loaf of my own bread—in a cab outside of Mac’s building.

“We’re here, Ma’am,” the cab driver says again.

“Sorry. Yes.” I swipe my card to pay, take a deep breath, and get out. My head’s all over the place. I should have texted Mac before coming, but I was so afraid that something I said might get my invitation to this soiree rescinded, I decided to stay quiet as a mouse.

Ever since we graduated, Mac and I have been Brooklyn girls. For her daily commute, Mac would be much better off living in Manhattan, but she clearly hasn’t been able to leave Brooklyn. Or maybe she did, for a while, and came back. There’s so much I don’t know. There’s so much I didn’t get to ask because we spent the little time we had in Maui decidedly not talking—and I wouldn’t take back a second of that.

Mac lives in a swanky building with a doorman, who opens the door for me and greets me abundantly, as if I’ve been a guest of Mac’s all my life. He knows my name and calls the elevator for me.

On the ride to the penthouse, I wish I’d arranged with Alan and Charles to arrive together, but there was no talking sensibly to Alan after he received the invitation. I’m nervous enough as it is, but I’m also meeting Isabel Adler tonight and god knows what she’ll be like. Although I can safely assume Alan will take up most of her time and attention.

It’s ten past seven when the elevator doors open, straight into Mac’s penthouse. Someone who is not Mac greets me and escorts me into the living area. I clumsily hand the man the bottle of wine I brought.

Mac hired staff for a six-person dinner party? Another reminder that there’s so much I no longer know about her, although I will never forget how much she hated cooking. For a college athlete, she ate the most abominable junk food. Anything worked, as long as she didn’t have to prepare it herself. I used to joke that her signature move wasn’t dribbling the ball past an opponent, but pushing buttons on the microwave.

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