Page 38 of Still the One

“You tell Izzy that she’s very lucky to have you.”

“I tell her every day, but sure, I’ll remind her.” Leila laughs and sometimes the joyous sound of someone’s laughter is all you need to snap you out of an infernal thought loop. It reminds me that there is so much more to my life, and to me, than this reunion with Jamie. “But Mac, do yourself a favor. Acknowledge that Jamie’s back in your life and treat her with respect, even though she didn’t always treat you like that.”

“Okay,” I say, before I hang up. It’s easy enough to say. Although I have treated her badly, it’s not so much respect for Jamie that I lack. It’s respect for myself.

A few days go by and all I can think of whenever I have a spare moment, and also when I don’t, is Jamie. Her face when I had my fingers inside her. Her simple and refreshingly direct honesty when she said she wanted to see me again. How I’ve been falling apart since Maui and how I’ve been taking it out on her by becoming this fickle mess of a person. But I don’t know how to be someone else when it comes to this, to her and what we used to be to each other. She has that effect on me now, although it’s not a good enough excuse for my behavior.

Most of all, I can’t believe I walked out of Jamie’s apartment with my body in such a desperate state of arousal. A couple of nights of tossing and turning have yielded the conclusion that I must have been terrified. Utterly frightened of how she might make me feel—and what it would mean.

I also remember Leila’s wise words. It’s impossible for me to pretend Jamie doesn’t exist. Everywhere I go, I think I see her. When I’m on camera, the entire audience might as well be made up of versions of her. When I turn a corner, part of me always hopes she’ll be waiting on the other side.

By Friday, I’ve driven myself to madness and I can’t take it anymore. I text her and I tell her the honest truth.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

It takes hours before she responds, but then she does.

Maybe because we have unfinished business.

She’s not even here, yet my cheeks flush, because I know what she means.

Do you want to come over tonight?

Only if you don’t kick me out before I’m ready to go.

I promise.

As I press send, I wonder if it’s a promise I can actually keep. But then I swear to myself that I will. Because of our history, it’s easy to assume I don’t owe her anything, but I do owe her that, in the here and now, which is where we are living.

Jamie texts back.

Okay

The three dots of doom keep flickering on my screen and I wait and wait for her next message to come through. When it finally does, a flush travels through my entire body.

Shall I bring The Thing?

Jamie is so deliciously audacious. That I would even remember what ‘The Thing’ is—but of course I do. And that she would just casually ask me like this, after how I left things last weekend. We’ve only exchanged a few texts but it’s as though I’m falling in love with her a little bit just because of them. Because of her.

My fingers are trembling as I answer.

Please do.

I don’t just let Jamie in. As soon as she walks through the door, I pin her against it and push myself against her. I kiss her for all the times that I couldn’t and all the times that I didn’t let myself. I kiss her to make up for being so volatile and capricious—as if that’s even possible. And I kiss her for what she brought in her bag. Every cell in my body tingles with anticipation.

“Is it really me you’re so happy to see? Or is it The Thing? Full disclosure: it’s not actually the original Thing, so to speak; just a more recently acquired substitute.” She grins at me and I melt some more.

“You,” I say.

“Can I say something first?” She clears her throat.

“Of course.” I straighten my clothes and get a hold of myself as much as I can.

“I have endless understanding for how confusing and complicated this is. For how destabilizing it is.” She looks me in the eye—she’s good at that. “I don’t know what this is either, Mac. All I know is that the urge to see you, to be with you, is infinitely bigger than the urge not to. But…” Oh fuck. There go the teeth. Straight into her bottom lip. Does she not remember how it used to drive me crazy? “You’re not the only one with feelings. I need you to know that.”

“I know.” It’s hard to return her gaze. I take her hand and fidget with her fingers. “I’m a mess and it’s probably going to take me a while to put myself together again, but meanwhile… maybe we can… have some fun.” Have some fun? What am I even saying? Not that it isn’t fun—some of it, at least—but it’s a ridiculous proposition to make to Jamie. As if things could ever be casual between us. As if we don’t carry the weight of our history on our shoulders.

“We always were big proponents of fun, you and me.” Jamie pulls me closer. “Take all the time you need and know that you can always be honest with me.”

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