by Lila James
“What?” Stewart whispered, looking up at Liz in shock. “Is that true?”
But Liz was focused on me, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Since we’re being so honest here, how about this: I knew Marcus didn’t want to marry you!” she shouted.
“What?” I echoed, staring at her in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”
“It was two days before your wedding. Marcus pulled me aside and asked me if you were having any doubts. I told him you were jittery, but aren’t we all jittery before weddings? He didn’t look convinced but it seemed to be enough.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.
“I was trying to spare your feelings at the time. But since you don’t seem to care about mine and you want total honesty, I decided to give it to you,” Liz snapped, dragging a shaky hand across her face to wipe away her tears.
I stood there, trembling and shell-shocked, as my self-righteous anger turned into pained disbelief. Jackson said something, but I didn’t hear the words.
If she had told me this, maybe the travesty of the whole “wedding” would have never occurred. Marcus and I would have talked it out beforehand, and I wouldn’t have been jilted. I could have been saved from a load of heartbreak. And my best friend, someone I thought I knew, didn’t think it was at all necessary to tell me. At some point I felt Jackson’s hand come to rest on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort.
“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” Liz said, not looking at me. “I’d like you out of here as soon as possible.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Is Honesty the Best Policy?
Is honesty the best policy? I pondered this question as I sat in a nearby coffee shop with Jackson at my side. I mean, the whole “honesty is the best policy” thing had been drilled into our collective conscience since grade school. But was it always best to know the whole truth? Was ignorance, in fact, bliss?
After our confrontation, Liz and Stewart had retreated into Liz’s room, where we heard their raised voices. Jackson had taken my hand and led me from the apartment, across the street to a coffee shop, where I sat in a daze. I still could not believe Liz knew all along that Marcus had had doubts about our wedding—and she hadn’t told me. My best friend. Or the person who I thought was my best friend. Trustworthy, reliable Liz. Liz had not only withheld the information through many a Doritos-and-wine phase but also decided to throw it in my face as a way to hurt me. I was starting to wonder if I ever really knew her at all.
“Adrian?” I looked up at Jackson’s concerned face. He reached up to my face and wiped away a stray tear. I hadn’t realized I was crying. “How about we call it a day? We can get back on it tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I said absently. “Gosh, wouldn’t it be entertaining to include all that just happened in the article? We can title it ‘Love: Here’s What Happens When It Goes Horribly Wrong.’”
Jackson smiled and reached across the small table to take my hand. It was just a gesture of comfort, yet I felt a small rush through my numbness at his touch.
“You don’t have to make jokes. None of that was pleasant. And I know you don’t like me talking about you and your ex-fiancé’s relationship, but—” Jackson began.
“I don’t.”
“I know,” Jackson conceded. “But if honesty is truly the most important thing about a relationship to you, then you really dodged a bullet with that guy. He couldn’t be straightforward with you. Maybe things turned out the way they were supposed to. I’ll leave you to think things over. OK?”
Jackson gave my hand a final squeeze as he started to get to his feet. I felt bereft at the absence of his touch, and I gave him an imploring look.
“Wait. Do you mind sitting with me for a little while?”
Jackson paused and I felt foolish. He was probably inwardly smirking at my emotional neediness right now.
“Never mind,” I said, feeling naked by my tears and obvious vulnerability. “If Just Katerina is waiting for you or something, I understand.”
“I’ll sit here with you as long as you want,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder as he sat back down.
“Thank you,” I whispered, fighting back a bevy of tears. “Ironic that I went on and on about honesty when I really wish I didn’t know anything right now.”
“The truth always comes out in the end. Isn’t it better to know now? If you hadn’t told Stewart about Liz, somehow her cheating on him would have come out. And if you had married Marcus, who knows if it would have been right?”
“But Stewart wouldn’t be hurting right now. I’d be a blissful newlywed.”
“Pretty soon, cracks would’ve started to appear,” Jackson said. “Trust me on this. Yes, ignorance is bliss. But for how long?”
I mused over what he said as Jackson ordered me a chai tea latte and we sat in companionable silence, something I hadn’t enjoyed with anyone since Marcus. The peaceful silence ended when Jackson told me he had to meet Katerina downtown for lunch.
“I can cancel it, if you want,” Jackson said when he saw the flash of disappointment in my eyes.
“No, no. I’m fine. Please. Go ahead. Thanks for sitting with me,” I murmured.
When we parted, Jackson gave me a brief hug that sent my entire body into an involuntary tailspin. He broke the embrace and walked away with a casual salute. I forced a smile and waved back. He’d never hugged me before. He must have thought I was an emotional wreck who needed comforting. I tried not to analyze my reaction to his casual embrace too much. Things in my life were haywire enough. And besides, I had a great rebound. Boyfriend. Douglas. Douglas.
I decided to take a walk around the city. There was no way I was returning to the soap opera of Liz’s apartment anytime soon. I had only been half-heartedly looking for apartments up to that point, perusing online ads at work when I was bored. I’d been too preoccupied with the craziness of my life post jilting to properly focus on hunting for an apartment. With the whole getting-over-Marcus thing, Mom dating a zygote, Liz’s secretiveness, Douglas, and working on the article with Jackson, looking for my own place had not been a priority. But Liz was right. The sooner I found my own place, the better.
As I headed down Lexington Avenue, I wondered if it really would have changed anything to know Marcus had gone to Liz with doubts. And if we had gotten married, was Jackson right? Would things start crumbling right away … or would they have taken twenty plus years to completely crumble, like my parents’ marriage?
Before I knew it, I found myself at Marcus’s work building. Without thinking, I entered the building and headed up to his floor. I stepped out of the elevator, and after a moment’s hesitation, I headed toward his office.
My timing was perfect because Marcus was heading out of his office with a gaggle of his coworkers (no sign of the gorgeous Amazon, I noted with relief) toward the elevators. My heart only lurched slightly when I saw him, as opposed to my reaction when he came to Liz’s apartment a couple of weeks ago. He saw me at the same time I saw him, and he froze. Once again, we gazed at each other like we were strangers.
A couple of his coworkers (who, with a grimace, I noted were at our “wedding”) recognized me and began to whisper among themselves. Marcus told them he’d catch up with them later and he approached me slowly, as if I were a caged tiger about to pounce.
“Adrian? Is everything OK?”
“Did you tell Liz you didn’t want to marry me two days before the wedding?” I asked, deciding to skip all the polite preliminaries and get right down to business.
Marcus heaved an exhausted sigh, closing his eyes. His body language screamed, “I don’t want to talk about this again, Jilted.” But I didn’t care. I did want total and complete honesty, however painful that would be.
“Can we not discuss this here?” Marcus asked in a low voice. “Can I meet you somewhere?”
“No. Trust me, I really don’t want to see you anymore. I just want an answer to my question.”
&n
bsp; “My office, then,” Marcus said, taking a quick glance around at several curious onlookers.
“Fine.”
In his office, Marcus closed the door behind me. I cast a hasty glance around the office, noting that all the pictures he previously had of us as a couple were gone. It was as if “we” never existed. But the absence of the photos didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.
Marcus walked to the other side of his desk and stood facing away from me, looking out his window. I knew he was avoiding my gaze, because his view consisted of a solid brick wall and a fire escape.
“I thought Liz would have some insight,” Marcus said. “You two have always been really close. I thought that if you expressed any doubts about the wedding, then—”
“You would have your out?” I whispered.
“No. I mean, I would have felt better about talking to you about my misgivings. And I wish I had. I really do. I’m going to regret what I did to you for the rest of my life. But if we got married, I think we would have both regretted it even more.”
“Good,” I said, expelling a breath. “Thanks. Nice to know that you were dreading our wedding days beforehand as opposed to fifteen minutes before walking down the aisle.”
“Adrian,” Marcus started, turning around and moving toward me.
“No. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come,” I stammered, backing up out of his reach. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
Marcus just stood there, looking helpless. I started to leave, but an even more painful thought occurred to me. I turned back around to face him.
“One more thing,” I said, forcing myself to look at him. “Since you were having so many doubts—about us—did you ever explore other options?”
“Explore other options?” Marcus echoed, sounding hollow, but his expression was mildly panicked.
“Yes. As in cheat on me.”
“Adrian, what’s the point in all this?” Marcus asked, lowering his eyes.
“I just want the truth. Please do what you couldn’t do when we were together. Be honest with me.”
There was a long, painful silence. I waited, literally holding my breath.
“I kissed someone,” Marcus admitted. “Maybe a month before the wedding. And no, it wasn’t Gabriella. I didn’t even meet her until after we broke up. She was a coworker; we were at a bar, and I was telling her how terrified I was about tying the knot.”
“Obviously,” I bit out.
“And we kissed. But that’s as far as it went, I swear. I regretted it, she transferred offices soon after, and I never saw her again.”
“That makes it so much better,” I snapped. “Did Liz know?”
“No. Of course not. Look, I know this sounds like a crappy excuse, but I was freaking out. And I couldn’t talk to you because I felt you withdrawing from me.”
“That’s convenient. Blame me for what you did,” I shouted before stopping myself. I was doing it again. Engaging in a pointless post-breakup fight. “I’m not going to do this. Jackson said I dodged a bullet by not marrying you. He was right.”
“Jackson? Another boyfriend?” Marcus demanded, having the nerve to look jealous.
“Yes,” I said with conviction, deciding not to correct him. “Goodbye Marcus. Thank you for your honesty—finally.”
I stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I always thought that slamming doors was childish (I had witnessed the act many times growing up amid the battleground of my parents’ marriage), but it felt so damn satisfying.
So there I had it: complete and total honesty. But as hurt as I was that he’d kissed someone else while we were engaged, I felt relieved that I knew. Marcus was becoming less the man I thought I loved and was going to marry, and more of a stranger I hardly knew.
Even though I was glad Liz hadn’t known about Marcus’s indiscretion, I managed to avoid the apartment all day, which was pretty easy (thank you, American Express!). After some much needed retail therapy, I stopped by Gristede’s to pick up a load of groceries for my dinner with Douglas.
When I arrived at his apartment, he answered the door looking rumpled and handsome. Overwhelmed by sudden emotion, I dropped all my bags, rushing into his arms to embrace him.
“What’s all this, love?” Douglas asked, taking a step back and looking down at me.
“This is a brand new slate, you and me,” I said. “No remnants of old relationships will screw up what we have.”
“OK,” Douglas slowly replied.
“Just promise me you will always be honest with me. No matter what. All right?” I asked, taking his hands and staring him down. Douglas looked uneasy, taking a step back.
“What’s going on, Adrian?”
With great reluctance, I told him about my blowup with Liz and my revelation about Marcus. He stiffened at the mention of Marcus.
“You went to see him?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t like that. I just had to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Ah,” Douglas said, but he didn’t look convinced. Time to change the subject, pronto.
“I’m going make you the meal of a lifetime,” I said, winking at him.
I did successfully make him a meal of chicken fettuccine with a massive salad, toasted French bread, and wine. I didn’t burn the kitchen down this time, but that was partially because Douglas came running into the kitchen from the living room and turned off the oven as I leaned against the far wall, taking a break with a glass of wine as I gazed out the window. Apparently, I’d preheated the oven a tad too high; the stove and the kitchen would have been incinerated in a matter of minutes had Douglas not intervened. Ahem. So the bread was a little burned and we had a little scare, but I considered the dinner a success.
After we ate, Douglas put on “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra and held out his hand to me. As I settled into his arms for a dance, my thoughts strayed to Jackson and the way I reacted to his embrace. The relaxation I felt in Douglas’s arms didn’t come close to that explosion of feelings I felt in Jackson’s arms. I shut my eyes, determined to shut out all thoughts of Jackson as we swayed to the music. And it would have been a romantic dance if my foot hadn’t caught on the rug and sent me tumbling to the ground.
“All right, love?” Douglas asked, looking amused as he helped me back up.
“I’m fine,” I said in my sexiest voice, leaning in to kiss him. Douglas bent his head down for his lips to capture mine, but he stopped himself.
“One thing first.”
“What?”
“I need you to assure me you’re not still in love with your ex-fiancé. I need you to promise me,” Douglas said, searching my eyes.
I placed my hands on the side of his face. I’d been thinking of Marcus less and less lately, and the recent revelation that he cheated on me while we were engaged hadn’t changed that. In fact, it helped push any thoughts of him further away.
“I am most definitely not in love with my ex-fiancé. I promise you.”
“Or anyone else?” Douglas persisted.
“Anyone else?” I echoed as Jackson briefly appeared in my mind. “No. Of course not.”
“Thank you. I can be a rather insecure bloke sometimes.”
I smiled, touching his cheek. But I hate to admit that I had to make a supreme effort to completely put Jackson out of my mind as Douglas leaned down to kiss me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Out with the Old, In with the New
I soon realized that breaking up with a friend was eerily similar to breaking up with a boyfriend. I would have to go through the same steps in order to move on. In my case, one of the first post-breakup steps was moving. Again.
I really hoped that Liz and I going our separate ways wouldn’t be a permanent break. I loved Liz. She’d been an integral part of my life since my college days.
But we definitely needed a break from each other. And considering that she was kicking me out, I really didn’t have a choice.
In fact
, when I came back from Douglas’s place the next morning, she had left out a list of highlighted apartment brokerage websites. Subtlety was never one of Liz’s strong points.
She came out of her room just as I started to head toward mine, and we both froze.
“I left some ads out.”
“I saw them, thanks,” I replied. “I’ll be out of here as soon as humanly possible.”
“Good,” Liz said, avoiding my gaze as she moved past me to head into the kitchen.
And so Liz and I were back to the silent tension act. Fun. I decided to spend as much time at the office as possible when I wasn’t meeting with Jackson to avoid Liz until I found the proverbial needle in the haystack … a decent yet affordable apartment in Manhattan.
At the office, I learned that I was a bit of an online celebrity. Jean stopped by my desk, giggling.
“What is it, Jean?”
“You’re an Internet superstar, honey,” Jean replied, hiccupping through his laughter.
“What are you talking about?”
Jean leaned over me and typed something into my Internet search bar. A YouTube video popped up. And there I was, wobbling in my weird ski outfit, plunging into Just Katerina. I stared at the video, horrified.
“Oh no.” I groaned. “Well, at least you can’t tell who it is—”
The words froze on my lips as my videotaped image looked around wildly, at one point looking directly into the camera, right before plunging into Katerina.
“No, that’s you all right.” Jean chortled. “You should write a piece on this.”
“I most certainly will not,” I snapped, looking at the number of views of the video with dismay. Ten thousand and counting. “This is terrible. Can I sue?”
“Oh, please. Don’t. This is entertainment. But I do have to ask, darling: What were you wearing?”
“I didn’t know I would be viewed by the world,” I said through gritted teeth as the video played again in slow motion.
“Obviously.”
I closed the browser, gathering my papers and stuffing them into my knapsack.
“Where are you going?”
