You're the One That I Want

by Giovanna Fletcher

  Maddy was happy. I could see that as I looked at her on my screen that day. She was visibly glowing as she gazed at Robert.

  He made her happy.

  She wasn’t waiting for me.

  I wasn’t the guy for her.

  That was when I realized that I’d never allow myself to stand between them ever again. It was yet another affirmation that I was wrong to ever have spoken up and act on my feelings. They were always going to end up together. I should have known that from the start.

  ‘That all sounds magical,’ I said as Robert came to the end of whatever he was saying.

  ‘That’s not all, actually,’ he grinned. ‘I was wondering if you’d be my best man.’

  Mum had predicted it. I’d shunned the idea.

  I was speechless.

  I couldn’t think of anywhere better to go and ponder over a broken heart than Machu Picchu – a deserted city built for the Inca kings on the peak of a mountain.

  I was taking on that adventure with a mixture of people that the tour company had bundled together – a few travellers who’d been to almost all the same places as I had, an older couple from Canada who’d decided, after years of working hard, to stop and go see the world, and an English family with two sons who were a little younger than me. Our trek guide was a short tubby man called William, a local from Peru with limited English, meaning that, although he was eager to please, it wasn’t always possible to get the information we craved. For instance, I’d heard many different theories about why Machu Picchu was built and who for and had loads of questions about it – but each time I queried him I ended up more confused. From what I understood, Machu Picchu had been built in the fifteenth century for the Incas to live in, a sacred place built by the people to show their devotion to their kings.

  The walk getting there was mind-clearing enough. Even though our bags were carried by donkeys, it was still a struggle. The altitude made it difficult to walk more than five minutes before it swooped in and took your breath away, and when that wasn’t an issue our legs occasionally went stiff from the number of stairs we had to scramble our way up. The plus side was that it forced us to stop and take a look at the surroundings.

  I’d seen photos. I knew what Machu Picchu was going to look like, but as I climbed up the final uneven steps of the Inca trail and crossed through the Sun Gates to see it for the first time, I was overcome with emotion. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that made me feel that way, but I found myself having to walk away from the group to shed a few tears.

  It was the first time in over five months that I felt part of a group and not a lone traveller. Yes, there were moments when I’d spend a few days with people here and there – but being on the Inca Trail gave the group a sense of unity. We were travelling towards something and did our best to help each other get there. It made me miss home. Miss Robert and Maddy and being a part of our team.

  As I sat at the mountain’s peak, overlooking the vast number of buildings that had been erected by worshippers who died to make their Inca kings happy, I thought of my two best friends. It hurt that Maddy had distanced herself so much from me and that I was becoming more of a stranger to her than someone she confided in. It was my own fault that things had become that way, but I missed her. I missed having her as a best friend to chat to every day. And as for Robert, I’d always felt like I owed him so much for always being there for me, but instead of repaying him I betrayed him. In many ways I’d started to wish that I could take the last few years back – transport us back to the days of innocence, when everything was far less complicated.

  I was twenty-one when I drunkenly told Maddy I loved her. The way I acted following that showed my lack of maturity at the time. I should have talked to her and explained how I felt, not just acted out. I dread to think how I’d look back at the whole thing in my old age, with further years of worldly wisdom to draw upon. I wondered whether I’d cheer at myself for acting on impulse and seizing the moment, or reprimand myself for betraying a friend and acting so foolishly. I had a feeling it would be the latter.

  I’d already known there was no way that I was ever going to get the girl, but hearing that she was getting married, that she’d be forever out of my reach, hurt. She’d agreed to marry Robert. No matter how she felt about me, the fact she’d said ‘yes’ to being his wife told me everything I needed to know.

  I needed to forgive myself for the things I could not change, and move forward in the hope of salvaging the best friendship and love I’d ever known.

  I wanted my friends back.

  Paris served us well once and, as you are sitting here now you will know that it served us well a second time. I can’t tell you how honoured I am to be married to the most wonderful woman in the world. Kathryn and Greg, I promise I’ll take good care of her. And Maddy, I promise that from now on I will bring you home flowers for no reason at all, I will run you baths and I will tell you just how gorgeous you look.

  So please, join me in raising a glass to my beautiful wife. The Bride.

  Maddy

  Twenty-six years old …

  It’s quite impossible to move forward and tell yourself that you’re doing the right thing when everything seems to be making you question it. Weddings make you think for a start (and I’d been to two that year), as do love songs on the radio, romantic films or crazy dreams full of wacky scenarios and flashbacks – highly unhelpful. I thought of Ben a lot in the lead-up to my wedding. More than I should have.

  It upset me that he kept springing into my thoughts. I couldn’t understand why, when I was so happy, his face kept coming into focus to contest that.

  And I was happy. I was completely happy with my life with Robert. That’s something I can’t stress enough. He was my best friend, he made me laugh every day, he challenged me physically and mentally, he was my ultimate pillar of support, always there, always loving, always giving. There was no reason for me to look elsewhere or consider the possibility that we weren’t right together. We were, I knew we were, had done since day one.

  But what did Ben taking over my thoughts mean? That’s what I kept asking myself. Was it the Universe’s way of telling me to think wisely before getting married? Was it suggesting I was meant to choose Ben? Or was he simply on my mind because I’d put him there.

  A couple of months before my wedding, after driving myself slightly loopy, I decided to write an email to Ben, to get all my thoughts out in the hope that he’d be able to shed some light on the matter. I’m not entirely sure what I expected from him, but it helped to sit down and just blast out all my feelings. It helped me to organize them and see things more clearly.

  That email sat unsent in my drafts folder for weeks. I thought about sending it time and time again. I’d look at it and reword bits, making sure it made sense, and that it truly reflected how I felt. It did, but something stopped me from typing his name in the address bar and pressing the send button. I let it sit there for as long as I could.

  The night before my wedding I was in my old bedroom trying to sleep, but wasn’t having much luck. I had too much nervous energy bubbling away inside me. It didn’t help that my gorgeous wedding gown was hanging from the door of my wardrobe, demanding my attention – doing its best to tempt me out of bed and squeeze into it ahead of schedule.

  Lying in the bed from my childhood, I thought about everything that could possibly go wrong the following day – the normal bride worries – but I also thought about me and Robert, about how far we’d come since our first smile at nine years old, to our wedding day. Thinking of our future, I knew we’d have a lifetime of happiness together. I knew, for absolute certain, that it was what I wanted.

  Suddenly I decided I’d waited long enough.

  I needed Ben to know how I felt.

  I picked up my laptop from the floor and went into the draft folder of my emails.

  I typed in his email address.

  I clicked send.

  Ben

  Twenty-six years old …

/>   Ben,

  A few years ago I was told that, in order to stop my heart from being so torn, I had to choose my love story and stick to it. The thing is, I never really felt like I had a choice. You’d got with Alice and seemed perfectly happy, you never gave me cause to think otherwise. You also never fought for me or made me think that a future with you was a viable option. If I’m honest, it made me question if you’d ever really loved me at all. As a result I invested all my love and energy into Robert. I forgave him, and ended up loving him even more than I had before, because at that point I knew what it was like to be without him. I can’t say I regret the decision or the years we’ve spent together. I’m incredibly happy and loved. As we both know, Robert is a wonderful man.

  However, every now and then I think about you and what could have been. Not constantly, but it’s been tugging away at me enough to keep you in my thoughts more than perhaps you ought to have been. For a while I thought I was having doubts – that it was my heart’s way of saying it’s you I love and should be with, but I’ve come to conclude that that is not the case. I DO love you, you can be certain of that, but I don’t believe we’re meant to be together, I don’t think I’m meant to be with anyone. Instead that decision is one our hearts must make for themselves.

  I know you didn’t believe it when I told you I loved you all those years ago, but I honestly did, and still do. Completely and utterly. Just thinking of you makes me smile. I don’t want to go through life without you there supporting me, and nor do I want you to be without my support and love.

  Until now, I thought a part of me had been longing for you to come along and rescue me, but we both know I’m not in need of saving. Not in the slightest. There’s nothing to save me from. I’m in love with someone we both think is amazing. I’ll be full of happiness on the day of my wedding because I know that things are the way they should be.

  So it’s not because I don’t love you that I’m marrying someone else, and it’s not because you didn’t love me that you stopped fighting for me or pursuing things. Instead, it’s because we both have so much love for the one man who’s been keeping us apart. He is OUR rock, OUR best friend, OUR Robert. It’s not from a lack of love that we’ll forever be apart, but too much.

  You will always be in my heart and I know I’ll love you forever.

  Yours, Maddy

  xoxox

  Maddy

  Twenty-six years old …

  That was it.

  There was no going back.

  A surge of happiness bolted through me as I spotted him, staring back at me from the altar, looking simply divine. My wonderful man, Robert Miles – strong, reliable and loving. My best friend. I pursed my lips as my cheeks rose and tears sprang to my eyes at the very sight of him, looking more handsome than ever in his grey suit. His tall muscular frame visibly relaxed as his dazzling green eyes found mine, his luscious lips breaking into a smile that I couldn’t help but respond to.

  And then I stole a glance to the right of Robert, to see my other love, Ben Gilbert – kind, generous and able to make my heart melt with just one look. But he wasn’t looking back at me. Instead, he had his head bowed and was concentrating on the floor in front of him; all I could see was the back of his waxed brown hair – the smooth olive skin of his face and his chocolate-dipped eyes were turned away.

  His hesitance to look up struck a chord within me, momentarily making me wobble on my decision.

  Suddenly, something within me urged him to look at me. Part of me wanted him to stop the wedding, to show me exactly how much he cared. Wanted him to stop me from making a terrible mistake … but is that what I thought I was actually making? A terrible mistake?

  I loved Robert, but I loved Ben too. Both men had known me for seventeen years – each of them had seen me at my worst, picked me up when I’d been caught in despair, been my shoulders to cry on when I’d needed to sob. They were my rocks. Plural. Not singular.

  Yes, I’d made my decision. I’d accepted Robert’s proposal, I’d worn the big white dress and walked up the aisle – however, if Ben had spoken up, if he’d even coughed suggestively, then there’s a possibility I’d have stopped the wedding.

  Even at that point.

  But, as the service got underway, as the congregation was asked for any reasons why we should not have been joined in matrimony without a peep from Ben, it started to sink in that he was not about to start fighting.

  He was letting me go …

  I did not stop the service.

  I did not run off like the girls in films or books who decide at the last minute that their wavering hearts need to be with ‘the other guy’, who had been patiently waiting in the wings since forever. I did not have a moment of realization and ‘put things right’.

  There was nothing dramatic, no big outing of my scandal. Nothing. Just me, standing in front of Robert, telling him that he had my heart, that I would love, honour and obey him for the rest of my life. I declared my vows with love and determination, strength and clarity. Looking into Robert’s eyes and remembering everything we’d been through, how he had been there for me, stood by me, fought for me. All the while telling myself that I was doing the right thing. I was making the right choice – because there was no other choice.

  Never before has the term ‘bitter sweet’ been truer. I was marrying my best friend, the guy who made me laugh more than anything in the world, the one who I knew would do anything for me, but I was also saying goodbye to the possibility of the alternative love story – the one I had never and, from that point, would never, allow to have a proper chance.

  My love story had been chosen. It might not have been the one others might have picked, but it was the one I was more than happy to live with.

  Once the ceremony was complete and the register signed, we wandered hand in hand back through our gathered family and friends, smiling as they all cheered in delight, welcoming the newly formed Mr and Mrs Miles into the world.

  That evening, during an unexpected break before dinner and the speeches, I stood outside, catching some fresh air in a trance-like daydream. I looked out at the candles that were beautifully placed on the vast green that was encased by towering trees, the sort the three of us had spent our carefree childhood climbing.

  What a day it’s been, I thought to myself with a sigh.

  I’d been there for a few minutes when I heard footsteps coming towards me. My breath caught in my throat as I took a quick glance and realized who was walking in my direction.

  Ben.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, his voice low and quiet.

  I nodded in reply and turned back to the view.

  He stood next to me.

  Side by side we watched the candles’ flames dance and flicker, matching the twinkling of the starry sky above.

  Without saying anything more, he took my hand in his and I instantly knew what was coming – those infamous three little squeezes, those longed-for three little unvoiced words, in the way he’d told me since he was just eleven years old.

  One.

  A bolt surged through me.

  Two.

  My lip wobbled.

  Three.

  My tears started to fall.

  ‘I always will,’ he leaned in and whispered, before slowly releasing my hand, turning around and walking away.

  Ben

  Twenty-seven years old …

  I.

  LOVE.

  YOU.

  That was what I’d wanted to say in those three little squeezes.

  I knew I meant it.

  I really did …

  Being in that setting, with the emphasis of the occasion one of love and happiness, it was hard to escape the intense desire that took hold of me – making it impossible to ignore. I had an overwhelming urge to open my mouth and say the words out loud, but I couldn’t. Instead I found another way to express what I was undoubtedly sure I felt. The words pulsed through my body and out of my hands into hers, the one I loved inexplicably.


  Of course, it would be easy to brush the whole thing off and insist it was a crush, a silly little case of puppy love, but it wasn’t. It was far more than that.

  From the moment I saw Maddy she’d captured me. She had me completely gripped. I was fascinated with everything about her – the way she looked with her fire-like hair and flushed cheeks, the way her heart-shaped lips spoke with a softness and warmth, and the way she appeared so vulnerable as she exposed her caring heart. I adored her – it was that simple.

  With Maddy in my life I felt whole. She added a magical sparkle that I’d never wanted to live without. And so I told her, with those three little squeezes. I had no agenda, no hidden plan or desire for anything to change between us – my only thought was to relieve myself of those feelings by communicating them in the only way I felt I could.