Page 35 of Still the One

“I know.” Mac doesn’t have to explain to me why she never became a single mother. I admire her for it because she gave up on her biggest dream, on the dream she’d had since she was a teenager, for the sake of the kid she never had. “I’m so sorry that didn’t work out for you.”

“I know it’s ludicrous to blame you for that, but I did for a long time. Because you fucked up all the plans I had for my thirties.”

“I’m sorry.” I swore to myself that this wouldn’t turn into an endless sorry fest again, but it can’t be helped. Because I regret my choices so much, but even more than that, I regret the consequences of my reckless decisions on Mac’s life.

Chapter 19

Mac

“You being sorry doesn’t change anything,” I say. “It never did.” I wipe away my tears and do a reasonable job of pretending I didn’t just cry.

“I know.” Jamie finishes her drink. We sure knocked those back. I wonder if there’s any booze left in that cocktail shaker. But I didn’t come here to get tipsy and reminisce. I came here to have a twenty-year overdue conversation. Although twenty years ago I didn’t know how my life after Jamie would turn out. “Shall we sit?” She gestures at the lounge area on the other side of the room. “Do you want another drink?”

“Just some water, please.” As Jamie heads to the fridge, I cast one last glance at her picture wall. My gaze lands on a picture of us. We looked so happy. We were happy, which made it so hard to understand why she left. It’s also the reason I never really got over her. It would have been easier if we hadn’t been such a good couple or if we’d had a bunch of unresolved issues going on between us, but our relationship wasn’t rocky. It was solid and strong. And then Cherry came along and messed it all up and I had to ask myself the same question over and over again: if some woman could turn up out of the blue and break us up, how strong were we really? Is there even such a thing as an unbreakable bond? Was it all just an illusion? But if it was, why did it hurt so damn much?

I step away from the wall and walk to the lounge. Already exhausted, I sink onto the couch—I didn’t get much sleep last night. I kept thinking about all the things I wanted to say to Jamie today but, truth be told, it wasn’t just words running through my head. Many times more than I’d like to admit, I thought about Jamie’s nipples in my mouth. Her hands on my skin. Her tongue between my legs.

“Here you go.” Jamie hands me a glass of water. She takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

“I know it’s an unfair question but…” My cheeks flush just thinking about it. “What was it like to sleep with Cherry? It must have been absolutely spectacular if you decided to leave me, and our life, after having sex with her?” It’s petty and mean, but I also didn’t come here to make friends with Jamie again. I’m here for answers to the most difficult questions.

“Mac, come on.” Jamie makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “I don’t remember that.”

She’s copping out. “How can you not remember?” I sure remember what it was like between Jamie and me—glorious, loving, and utterly satisfying. “If it informed the most important decision of your life?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell me truth. You owe me that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you all over again.”

“You won’t hurt me, Jamie. You can’t hurt me anymore,” I lie.

“I’ve chosen not to remember and I prefer not to talk about that.” Jamie’s voice is unexpectedly firm.

“How can we talk about us, about our break-up and the reason for it—about fucking Cherry—if you don’t want to tell me what was so damn special about doing it with her?”

“Because it’s beside the point.”

“The hell it fucking is.” I bang my glass of water onto the coffee table with a little more force than I had anticipated. “It’s the point exactly.”

“Mac, please, don’t torture yourself like that.”

Jamie’s right. What’s the purpose of me either hearing her say how utterly amazing it was to be with Cherry—something I already know—or have her tell me lies. It’s just me punishing Jamie, making her pay for what she took from me. It’s why I can’t bear to be in the same room as her, but I’m here despite that. Despite wanting her to leave my home last night, I came here today. Because there’s also the other side of the coin. The reason I can’t stand it. Because she’s still enchanting to me in some ways. There are still parts of her I want to know, or get to know all over again. There are the times we had, and maybe my memory has played that trick on me where it has painted everything in a soft, pink shade of gentle happiness and I only remember the good times, before the final, ultimate bad spell. And there’s the fact that I slept with her in Hawaii—and that it was utterly spectacular to be with Jamie again after all this time.

So, of course I’m here. I’m just not entirely sure what I’m here for. I breathe in deeply and try to calm the nerves tearing through me, that uncomfortable sensation that is the opposite of how I used to feel when I was with Jamie who, for ten amazing years, was my home, my rock, her strong arms always there to catch me.

I glance at Jamie. She was never a glamour-puss. Her jeans often had dough stuck to them, and she never splashed out on expensive clothes because flour gets everywhere when you’re a baker. But I vividly remember how she looked in that tuxedo at Sandra’s wedding. How well she wore that. How she fitted snugly in my arms when we danced, as though we never stopped dancing together after we broke up. How my body reacted to her touch, as though it remembered everything, and had stored up all the reactions to her touch it was denied for twenty long years.

We might not be very good at talking about the hurt between us, but, that night in Maui, we excelled at other things. It was so much easier to simply surrender to her touch instead of having another painful conversation—to let our bodies do the talking.

Maybe that is the real reason I’m here. Although that’s even harder to admit to myself. But all I have to do is look at her. I don’t feel disgust when I rake my gaze over Jamie’s body. It’s not just pain that bubbles to the surface.

It’s no wonder I don’t want to talk anymore.

“Okay,” I say. My throat is swollen from the crying I did earlier. “Maybe I should go.” There’s no point in me staying if I don’t want to talk anymore. I might end up doing something I shouldn’t again.

“Mac.” Jamie’s voice is pleading. “You’re here now. Don’t go yet. Please.”

---