Page 14 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
“I know how much your family means to you, how much the firm means to you, and since you never play fair,” I teased, “you don’t have to worry about not succeeding.” The corner of his mouth lifted, but fell too quickly. I reached out then, just barely placing my hand over his. “In all seriousness, you’re not going to fail. Because that’s not who you are. And I think once your feet hit California, you’re going to buzz to life with the energy there and use that to drive you forward. And you’re going to drink too much and stay up too late but you’re also going to study hard and work harder and one day you’ll be back here, running the firm, with the wife and kids you’ve always wanted.” My throat felt thick at the mention of him building a family. “And I’m going to be sitting right here saying, ‘I told you so.’”
Jamie turned to me then, and I realized how close we were. Too close. I felt his breath on my lips, but my eyes never left his. He smelled like fall — not like pumpkin and freshly fallen leaves, but like fall in Florida — salty like the beach air, earthy like the palm trees, with a sweet spiciness that reminded me of the honey whiskey my dad always drank after Thanksgiving dinner.
“I hope you’re right,” he finally said, voice just above a whisper.
My heart was racing, my hand still touching his, and he moved his fingers beneath mine as if he were about to grab me in return. But I took my chance to put distance between us, sitting back in my seat with a grin and a wink. “Always am.”
Jamie turned on a new playlist after a while and we sat together, letting our minds race as we watched the waves gently roll in. It was too dark to really see them, but we could hear them, smell them, feel them. It was almost dawn by the time Jamie turned the Jeep back on to drive me home, and my eyelids were heavy when he pulled into the driveway.
“Can I ask you something?” Jamie asked as my hand found the door handle. I nodded. “What happened to Rory?”
I smiled, feeling the sleepiness tighten my skin. “My grandma came and stayed with us not too long after the bathroom incident and she and Rory fell in love. I suggested she take her, and I’d barely gotten the sentence out before Grandma was loading her up in the car.”
Jamie looked tired, too — his honey eyes rimmed with red. But he was smiling at me so genuinely, watching me so closely — like he always did.
“Can I ask you something now?” I whispered.
“You can always ask me anything.”
I hated the way those words both stung and exhilarated me, like a stiff shot of liquor.
“If Jenna wasn’t out of town, would you have texted her tonight instead?”
Jamie’s brows bent, and I hated the way my breath shallowed as I waited for him to speak. But when he finally did, I wished I’d never asked at all.
“Don’t make me answer that.”
His eyes were focused on mine, looking for my reaction, and I did my best not to have one. Nodding, my lips spread into a quick smile, but it slipped just as quickly as it’d appeared. “Goodnight, Jamie.”
With that, I opened the door and closed it as quietly as I could behind me before sneaking back into my room. The sun was already starting to rise and I knew I didn’t have much time to sleep, yet still, I couldn’t even shut my eyes. I just stared at my wall, knees tucked up and covers wrapped around me tightly.
Of course he would have called her if she were here. Jenna was his girlfriend, and I was just his friend. Which was fine, I reminded myself. It was more than fine. It was the way things were meant to be. Jenna and Jamie just made sense, and I was happy to be a part of the tricycle.
Everything was fine.
My eyes were fluttery, exhaustion seeping in, but just before I could doze off, my phone pinged from my bedside table. I tilted it up, my heart stopping at the text on the screen.
— Thanks for tonight… You’re my best friend, B. —
I stared at those last two words before my name, reading them together and then dissecting them until they blurred and I dropped my phone back to the nightstand, finally surrendering to sleep.
• • •
It was less than a month before the end of the school year when Jenna told me she was breaking up with Jamie.
“What?!” I exclaimed, a little too loudly, my burrito half-falling out of my mouth. I scrambled for my napkin, wiping at my mouth with wide eyes still locked in on Jenna’s unfazed face. “What are you talking about? Why? What happened?”
