Page 138 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
The question reminds me of one of the many reasons I do not like this girl—she doesn’t trust Noel, the most loyal person on the planet. “You should have a little more faith in him. He deserves it.”
She steps in my direction, her elfin hands clenched into fists. “It’s none of your business, Tressa.”
Noel lays a hand on her forearm but she pulls away. Tears glisten in her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know, Al. She just showed up. Nothing happened. I would never do anything to upset you.” He tugs loose a hand, eyes asking forgiveness. “You know I wouldn’t.”
The last time I’d seen them, he had done some really stupid shit, like let me crash at his place and forget to mention to Alice that he and I had history. I guess they worked all of that out. But he won’t ever upset her? It sounds nice, but damn. Years and years with no upset sounds like years and years of not being truly honest. To me.
Alice relents, stepping into his arms. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and a knife twists in my gut.
I clear my throat. “I’m going to go.”
They pull apart and stare at me. Alice’s face says, Get the hell out of here, and Noel’s eyes travel from my head to my feet, then climb back to my eyes, as though he’s memorizing me and this moment. He gives me a sad smile, and his fingers twitch like they want to reach for me. He doesn’t.
“Okay. Alice, take care of him. I hope you’ll be happy.” I know it will make me feel better in the future, but right now the only thing crashing through me is a searing, wrenching loss as I push out the words.
He’s gone, for good this time. My first love relegated to my past, where they end up most of the time, I guess.
It will be okay, I tell myself, each thought piercing me like a blade. Eventually.
As I leave, hiking back the way I came, I don’t turn around. I’m done with that.
Eight
Noel
THE REHEARSAL WENT off without a hitch, except for the fact that my legs ache after forcing them to stand still, to not run. Only close family and friends remain in the banquet hall, and for the moment, I’m alone. The guys are packing the car with the centerpieces and video equipment, and Alice smiles at her aunts and uncles, chattering near the door. She forgave me for last night, because she didn’t have a reason not to. She doesn’t really know Tressa, but she knows my ex–summer fling is unpredictable in a major way.
A smile plays across my lips. Tressa and I would have fought until two in the morning, then ended up tangled together, our mouths and bodies working things out. I sigh into myself. It’s so different with Alice. And even with Tressa now—talking to an honest, forthcoming version of her rocked me. How she’d said that she hoped Alice and I would be happy, every bit of her radiating sincerity. Th
e old Tressa would never have been selfless. I’d loved her then—like insane, borderline obsessively loved her—but she had never considered for one minute that what I wanted was as important as her freedom.
If I had met this Tressa, or if I’d been more patient, waited for her to emerge, would we be somewhere different? Would I be marrying someone else?
I shake my head, clearing the fruitless thoughts of what might have been, as Sammie slides into the seat next to me. We would never know.
Her blond bob shines in the restaurant’s soft lighting and concern soaks her eyes. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You can’t lie to me, Noel. We’ve been friends half our lives. I know you’re not okay. But I think it’s normal. People get nervous about their wedding even when girls they used to love don’t show up two days beforehand.” She stops, biting her lip and casting a glance at Alice.
“And?” The word barely escapes the tightness of my throat.
“And don’t let anyone tell you what makes you happy. Not your friends, not Alice, not Tressa. This is the rest of your life.”
She leans over and I let her hug me, even though it makes the frustrated tears harder to swallow. I don’t know what I want anymore, I realize as Sammie walks away, and that’s a terrifying feeling twelve hours before my wedding.
Alice wanders over, sliding her arms around my neck from behind and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You okay? You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you?”
“I’m fine, Al. Tired. How are you holding up?”
She sits on the table and starts talking, this girl who wants me and loves me and has never made me wonder about the truth of either of those things in the years we’ve been together. With Alice, I feel secure and warm, content. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I’d feel the same way for the rest of my life.
But fifteen minutes alone with Tressa blew my world to pieces. I thought it was good, the knowing. What every day will look like, where my life goes from here. Now, looking into an endless future of cookie-cutter hours, I don’t think I can do it.
ALICE IS A violent pendulum swing—Tressa was right about that. The instability of my relationship with Tressa had driven me to the familiar, and until she reminded me of how it feels to be in the presence of passion, I thought it was better.
