It was nine o’clock.
On a Friday.
“This is pathetic,” I murmured, hopping off the bed and sliding into my sandals. I didn’t bother putting on makeup or changing, just grabbed my hotel key and purse and made my way downstairs.
I was suddenly craving whiskey.
• • •
Thank God for DoubleTree.
Those were the words I whispered under my breath as I munched on a free, hot cookie and drank Crown Royal black on the rocks at the hotel bar. I’d struck up a casual conversation with the bartender, Beuford, but for the most part I just sipped and snacked, watching the sports highlights on the television above the liquor bottles. I had no idea what any of it meant, the extent of my sports experience being the games I watched in high school and the four Pirate games I’d managed to make it to with the crew from work. Even then, I had no idea what was going on — I just cheered and booed along with everyone else.
It might have only been a touch less pathetic than lying in my hotel bed, but I felt good about my decision to mosey down to the bar. There were a few others around me, one man about my age at the end of the bar who was still dressed in business attire with a conference name tag hanging around his neck, two older couples conversing at a table behind me in the cushioned seating area, and from time to time, families would breeze past on their way out or to the pool. Just having the noise and other people around me made me feel better, and truthfully, it was about all the social interaction I could handle at that point.
The day had been hard.
I knew going into the weekend that it would be, but seeing Jamie with Angel had kicked me in the groin harder than I thought it would. It was easy to repeat the words to myself in a bathtub miles away — Jamie is getting married — but actually seeing him with his fiancé was a completely different story. It burned, it seared, it scarred.
Sighing, I took a long pull from my glass and ate the last of my cookie, brushing my fingers off just as the seat beside me was pulled out.
“That’s more like it,” Jamie said, and I paused mid-chew with the cookie still in my mouth. He eyed my glass, lowering down on the stool and waving a finger at the bartender. “I saw you nursing a glass of water at the rehearsal dinner.”
I dry-swallowed the rest of the cookie and lifted my glass. “Yeah well, I wasn’t in the mood to drink then.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m sure you could guess.”
The bartender placed a napkin in front of Jamie and he ordered his own Crown Black, poured neat, after confirming that’s what I had in my glass. He took the first sip and sighed.
“You know, I’d like to say I’m surprised to see you here, but I guess I shouldn’t be, huh?”
He shrugged. “You act like I don’t know you.” His hand was still wrapped loosely around his glass as he angled himself toward me. “I figured you’d get back here, realize it was early and you can’t sleep after all, and end up here. I didn’t know for sure,” he added. “But I guess tonight, luck was on my side.”
I picked up my glass and twirled it in my wrist, shifting the ice. “Guess so.”
Jamie was staring at me in that way he always did, and for the first time in my life I wished he’d stop. “You’re not okay, are you.” It was a question, but he said it as a statement. “With all of this, I mean.”
“I’m fine.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking up at the basketball highlights on the screen before facing me again. “You don’t have to do this, okay? You can leave, I can—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jamie,” I cut him off, forcing the most genuine smile I could muster. “What are you going to do? Refund me for the dress hanging in my room? For the flight here and back? Don’t be dumb. Plus, I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I love you,” my voice cut off a little at the end of that profession, but I smoothed it over. “I want to be here. It’s hard, and I’m always honest with you so I won’t deny that, but I don’t want to leave.”
It wasn’t a lie. Even if he told me I could leave and he’d pay me back for everything, I wouldn’t. It hurt to be here, but it would hurt worse not to be — to be miles away wondering what he looked like, how they were together, what song they danced to, what color the stupid cake was. It was a sick sort of torture in a way, but I wanted to be with him — even if I couldn’t be with him.
“Are you sure?” His brows bent and I reached out, squeezing his forearm.
“I’m sure.” His eyes fell to my hand, and I retracted it, grabbing my drink again. Being around Jamie without being able to touch him was like drinking decaf coffee. It didn’t satisfy. The buzz was within reach, yet completely unattainable at the same time. “Besides, you’ll pay me back. One day I’ll be the one getting married, and I’ll expect you to be there.”
He was still staring at his arm where my hand had been, and his jaw ticked a little then. He reached for his own drink, but his eyes stayed down. “I’m happy. I love her, B. I really do.”
The knife twisted low, but I swallowed back the gasp. “I know.”
“But I still love you, too.” He lifted his eyes to mine then. “I don’t know if that will ever change.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant, because I knew. I felt it in everything that I was. Jamie Shaw was a part of me, and he would be forever. “I hope it doesn’t.”
He smiled, tentatively reaching his hand out to touch my cheek. I leaned into his palm and we both exhaled together, laughing softly.
“Ugh,” Jamie said, thumbing my cheek bone before dropping his hand and shaking out his shoulders. “Okay, enough with the heavy. Catch me up on everything. How’s work? Still kicking ass? Randall planning your next promotion?”
The conversation was easy from there. I filled him in on my life and he did the same for his. I wasn’t shocked to hear his dad was already talking about Jamie’s plan to partner at the firm, and my heart swelled with pride before a hard pinch hit it at the thought that Jamie was exactly where he always wanted to be. He was working at the firm, getting married, on his way to kids. It was all happening. I wasn’t a part of it, and yet I was. We had always existed in the in-between, and I guessed we always would.
We laughed a lot that night, bullshitting and reminiscing on times past. He asked me if I had a boyfriend, in about seven creative ways, and I skirted the question each time, leaving whatever was happening between River and me completely off the table. We took what we needed from each other and that was all. The truth was, I didn’t have time for a boyfriend — and I was okay with walking alone for a while.
“I guess I should probably let you sleep,” Jamie said as I yawned, my third glass of whiskey now empty. He checked his watch and then studied me again, biting his lower lip. “You know, we should go surfing tomorrow.”
“What?”
He nodded. “I mean, why not? We don’t have any plans until the bachelor party tomorrow. The guys have to go pick up their tuxes after work and I’ll be bored out of my mind and probably make myself sick with nerves if I’m alone all day.”