As I thought back, it had been another warning sign I clearly hadn’t wanted to see. So much so that I’d blocked it out until now—the bikini unlocking the memory. I toss the bathing suit aside and pack a simple black one-piece instead, not wanting to relive that moment, the one where he might have told me he couldn’t go to Maui at all, if I’d been paying a little more attention. If listening to him had been more important than how many pairs of shoes I could shove into my suitcase.
First thing tomorrow morning, we’d be driving up the winding road toward the city at the top of the mountain where we first fell in love, the large green pine trees whirling by, the expansive canyons overwhelming, and hopefully the silence in the car wouldn’t be deafening. In the past few days, our conversations had been limited, us becoming more like ships passing in the night as our work schedules became increasingly demanding so we could each take the two weeks off for the wedding and honeymoon. Max’s devotion to work didn’t concern me—last time around, he’d spent the same amount of hours in the office and Courtney wasn’t working there. And even though she was now a fellow employee, I got the sense that she’d been in training most of the time and they only saw each other occasionally in the halls or the parking lot, that I had maybe let my imagination get the best of me. But it did concern me that when I did see Max—passing each other as one of us stepped out of the shower and the other into it, or in the kitchen as we’d silently eaten from our Styrofoam take-out containers—our exchanges felt stilted. I felt out of the loop in his life, wishing he’d give me more details about his days, more information about how he was feeling. As I’d complained about how Magda now wanted me to find a replacement for Courtney, he’d moved his head up and down as if he was listening but offered nothing more. I worried that he was keeping everything bottled because he was scared that if he uttered even one word, every thought he was having would cascade out of his mouth. Including his doubts about me. So I hadn’t pushed, hoping that our trip to Big Bear would organically inspire us to talk the way we used to—and maybe remind him of who we used to be together.
? ? ?
“Kate, when will you have candidates for me to meet?” Magda’s piercing voice barks through the phone later that day while I’m nestled in my office, listening to my relaxation playlist on my iPod. I hold the receiver away from my ear as she hollers about how bad this gap in our executive staff is going to make our firm look to our clients.
The truth was, I hadn’t found anyone who even halfway compared to Courtney. Her work ethic, the blend of humor and heart she injected into her pitches, and her innate awareness of what clients wanted were incomparable. I hated to admit it, but I missed her. Not the part of her that wanted to take Max from me, but the part that made my work life easier. I stare at the résumés on my desk, the endless stream of people who would kill for this job, none of them coming close to having the experience or talent Courtney does. “Are you sure you don’t want to rehire Courtney?” I hear myself asking.
“No fucking way!” Magda cries.
“Okay, then,” I say evenly. “I’ll keep looking.”
“Try LinkedIn,” she screams as she hangs up the phone.
“Gee, thanks for the hot tip,” I say into the dial tone.
I stare out the window and wonder what my life would be like if I’d just accepted that Max wasn’t the man I was supposed to marry. There were so many things I’d never know. Like if I’d still be working at the agency with Courtney or if one of us would’ve quit because the tension between us would’ve been insurmountable. Or if Max and Courtney would’ve ended up in a relationship or quickly discovered that once their secret feelings were revealed, the excitement was gone. And there was also no way of knowing if I would’ve been miserable without Max, or, after experiencing some time alone, would’ve discovered I was happier without him. But I’d never find out if that was the case because, for whatever reason, I was given a second chance. And it’s this opportunity that has been the sliver of hope I’ve been clinging to—that tiny ray of light shining through the crack that reminds me there is still a chance. That the universe has made a mistake and is trying to right itself.
My phone buzzes with a notification. Callie Trenton from college has commented on my oddly shaped wedding gift picture. It’s definitely a cake pop maker! They’re all the rage! I click over to her page and there’s a series of pictures from her latest family vacation to the Bahamas. As I scroll through her album, I feel that twinge of jealousy in my chest and it slowly builds until I finally have to close out of Facebook completely.
“She’s only posting the best parts of her life,” Jules says adamantly when I call her and tell her about the pictures—the last was of her swollen belly, revealing that she’s expecting her third baby.
“She has a lot of ‘best parts,’ ” I remark.
“How old are her kids again? I can’t remember,” Jules asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You practically stalk this woman’s page and you can’t even ballpark it? Come on!”
“Okay—maybe they’re eight and ten?”