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Saturday, June 10—Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
I pick up the bottle of complimentary champagne from the floor and take a swig. I’m with Amelia in her honeymoon suite in Mexico, and we’ve been sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed drinking champagne since we got here.
“He’s married,” I say, staring into space. “Jake’s married. I can’t believe it.”
“I’m not married.” Amelia takes the bottle from me and gulps down the bubbly as if it were water. “Gosh, I’m such a cliché,” she adds when she’s done drinking. “How pathetic, going on my honeymoon with my best friend after I was dumped at the altar.”
“Ah, well. Technically, you left him at the altar. And at least, in this case, your best friend’s just as heartbroken as you are.”
“Were you really going to bust Jake’s wedding?”
“Yeah, I would have. You know, if I hadn’t met…”
“My ex-fiancé’s mistress.” Amelia finishes the phrase for me.
“Yeah, her. You really had no clue something was up with William? Not an inkling?”
“To be honest, this past year I’ve been so busy planning the wedding I wouldn’t have noticed a pink elephant sitting in my living room, bellowing. You know what the worst part is?”
“You’ll have to change your Facebook relationship status to ‘it’s complicated’?”
“No.” She chortles. “To tell the truth, I’m more disappointed my perfect wedding got ruined. I’m more depressed I’m no longer a bride. It’s more saddening than not being William’s wife. I keep thinking no one will see the butterflies released.”
“Butterflies?”
“Yeah. I had this cute mint-colored birdcage filled with all-colored butterflies, and they were supposed to open the cage when we cut the cake and all the butterflies would’ve soared in the air above us and it would’ve been beautiful.”
“It would have,” I say pensively. “But a wedding isn’t really about the butterflies. Not unless they’re in your stomach.”
“No. I guess not.”
“Are you in love with William?”
“I don’t know how to answer. I’ve always taken my being in love with William as a given. I haven’t asked myself that question in a very long time, and now I’m too angry and too drunk to give you a reliable answer. How about you? Are you sure you’re still in love with Jake?”
“Want to know what the worst part is for me?”
“You got a Brazilian wax and no one’s going to see it?”
“No.” I smile despite myself. “That I can answer your question in the blink of an eye with no need to think. I’m in love with Jake. I always have been.”
“Oh, Gemma, I’m so sorry. You should’ve gone to San Francisco to stop him.”
“And what, send you a text? Hi, Ames, I just met your soon-to-be-husband’s mistress. Please don’t marry him. Talk to you soon. Love, Gemma?”
“You could’ve called.”
“Amelia, I love you, but you’re getting annoying. I could never have told you over the phone William was having an affair. You would’ve done the same for me, so cut the crap. Plus, I’m not even sure what Jake would’ve said.”
“You think he would’ve stopped the wedding?”
“I’ve no idea, honestly.” I take the bottle from Amelia, drink, and pass it back to her. “I last saw him three years ago, and I told him to go to hell, never picking up the phone again to answer one of his calls or messages. Chances are he hates my guts.”
“Jake doesn’t hate your guts.”
“Well, even if he doesn’t hate me, he probably doesn’t love me anymore. He wouldn’t be marrying someone else otherwise. Crashing his wedding would’ve gone down in history as one crazy-Gemma moment. If I went there pouring my heart out on his wedding day, he would’ve told me something like…” I do an impression of Jake’s voice: “‘Nice to see you, Gemma, glad to see you’re okay. Now, would you mind? I’m getting married here.’”
“Gosh, Gemma, that’s exactly how Jake speaks.”
It stings that I remember his voice and lilt so well.
“Anyway, if I’d gone to San Francisco, I would’ve become an anecdote for Jake and his wife to tell their grandkids.” I keep speaking in mock voices. “‘Grandpa Jake, do you remember that time your crazy ex-girlfriend tried to stop you from marrying Nana? What was her name?’
“‘Gemma,’ someone would say.
“‘Right, Gemma, what happened to her, anyway?’
“‘She got even crazier with old age and now she lives alone with her ten cats.’” I conclude my recital. “So yeah, having to crash your wedding saved me from making the most embarrassing move of my life. I should probably thank you, not the other way around.”
Amelia laughs her head off.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are. You are literally the only person who could make me laugh on a day like this.”
“You can have a spot in my crazy cat house.”
Amelia chortles a little longer before she’s suddenly serious again.
“Gemma?”
“Mmm?”
“How are you, seriously?”
“It’s as if street workers jack-hammered my chest to dig my heart out.”
“That good, uh?”
“I’m having palpitations. The thought of having lost Jake forever is giving me a panic attack. I need to stop thinking about it.” I take the bottle back and drown my sorrows in Dom Pérignon.
“See, I’m not having palpitations about William,” Amelia says. “Just homicidal instincts…”
“Well, Jake didn’t cheat on me.”
“Is she beautiful?”
I don’t need to ask who ‘she’ is. “She had nothing on you, believe me. Plus, she was as wretched as you are. William pulled a number on her too. Up until two weeks ago, she thought she was dating the perfect guy, not an engaged, cheating scum. And if it’s any consolation, she’s jealous you’re a blonde.”
“Why? How does she know? What color is her hair?”
“She’s a redhead, and she stalked you on Facebook.”
“Give me my phone.” Amelia leans over me and grabs it from the floor. “I want to stalk her on Facebook. What was her name again?”
“Give me the phone; you’re not stalking her.”
“Why not? She stalked me first.”
“It wouldn’t do you any good.”
“Why?” Amelia narrows her eyes at me. “Is she so beautiful it’d kill me?”
“No, she’s not, but it’s no good, anyway. Don’t torture yourself.”
“As if you didn’t stalk Jake’s fiancée.”
“Wife. And no, I didn’t.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Not even a peek?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because when I thought I was going to crash his wedding, I didn’t want to give her a face, and now—well, it’d only make me cry. Imagine if she looks like Courtney Thorne-Smith in Ally McBeal. It’d drive me crazy to know Jake married lawyer Barbie.”
“Oh.”
“Why are you oh-ing me? Don’t you oh me. Have you looked her up?”
“No… yes. Just a little.”
“Does she look like lawyer Barbie?”
“No, not really.”
“You’re lying. Give me your phone, now! I want to see her.”
“No, it’s not a good idea.” Amelia raises her arms above her head and out of my reach. I’m too drunk to stand up and snatch the phone from her.
“Let’s make a pact,” Amelia proposes when I stop struggling.
“What pact?”
“I’ll bear the looks of lawyer Barbie for you if you’ll bear the looks of flight attendant Barbie for me. And we promise to never look them up. Never, ever. Deal?”
“Deal. I need this pact to keep my sanity.”
“Gemma?”
“Yes?”
“I’m scared.” She looks me in the eyes. “I haven’t been on my own in forever. What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’re going to be heartbroken for a while. Then you’re going to start dating again and have the time of your life. Until one day, you’ll meet your real soul mate and you’ll live happily ever after.”
“What a load of crap. You hate dating!”
“It’s more of a love-hate relationship.”
Amelia stares at her left hand. “I used to be so annoyingly smug with my one carat resting cozily on my finger.” She shakes her head. “How am I going to show my face at work? I’ll be the office joke.”
“Hey, come on. No one’s going to laugh at you.”
“Oh, they will, especially all the single ladies I used to look down on.”
“Did you look down on me too?”
“Gemma, I hate to be the one breaking it to you, but you’re hardly a single lady.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning men fall for you left and right like flies. It’s always you pushing them away.”
“And we finally understand why. No one measured up to Jake. No one ever will. I’m doomed.”
“Don’t worry. You’re going to be heartbroken for a while. Then you’re going to start dating again and have the time of your life. Until one day, you’ll meet your real soul mate and you’ll live happily ever after.”
I punch her on the shoulder. “That speech was for you… it doesn’t apply to me.”
“Why?”
“I’ve already met my soul mate, and I let him go. Here come the palpitations again; please, can we change the subject?”
“It gives me palpitations that I’ll need a new house,” Amelia sighs.
My mood instantly brightens. “Oh, that’s true. You’ll have to move out. It’s perfect!”
“What do you mean, it’s perfect? With the rates in London, I won’t be able to afford a house on my own. I’m going to need roommates again. I don’t want roommates! I was supposed to be starting my adult life with my husband, not looking for flat shares.”
“Yes, you’re going to have a roommate, and it’s going to be awesome!”
“Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m asking you to move in with me. Naomi’s sublease expires in two weeks and I’m kicking her out. I was going to live alone, but having you as a roommate is going to be so much fun!”
“Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Oh my gosh, and you have two bathrooms! I love you.”
“Me too.”
“Oh.”
“Not the oh again. What’s going on?”
“My furniture. I’d just finished redecorating the house, and it was so beautiful. And now we’ll have to sell it. My home,” she wails. “Is it bad I’m more heartbroken over my new furniture than over losing William?”
“Since you can buy all the new furniture you want, I’d say it’s not bad at all. Come on, we’re going to have a blast living together.”
“Thank goodness you’re here. You saved me today, and I know how much it cost you. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Shut up, you’re making me cry. Come here.” I hug Amelia and she hugs me back. We cling to each other like never before. Because right now, each other’s all we have.