My eyes zeroed in on the ring on her finger. He’d done it. He’d proposed, and she’d said yes. I expected to feel some kind of pain, maybe longing, but those feelings never came. There was discomfort, sure, but if anything, seeing the ring on her finger only caused generic emotions—the same ones I felt every time another friend changed their marital status on Facebook or announced they were pregnant. It was the unsettling shock of feeling like everyone around me was moving at a speed I just couldn’t match.
That was the first moment, standing there facing them with Max by my side, that I really started to question what I’d felt for Bliss. Shouldn’t this hurt more? Or was I too distracted by Max’s body next to mine?
I felt like I was standing on a precipice, seconds away from discovering a truth about myself that I didn’t particularly want to learn.
Max’s hand around my waist squeezed tighter, and I tore my eyes away from the ring on Bliss’s hand. I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “I see she said yes.”
Garrick beamed, a smile so bright and happy that it was painful to look at. “She did.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “To both of you. I’m really happy for you.”
Bliss bit her lip, then gave me a soft smile. Her eyes went a little glassy. Her voice was soft when she said, “Thank you. That means a lot.”
There was a beat. Another one of those moments when the winds shifted, time turned, and life started again in a new direction. I didn’t know about anyone else in the room, but I could tell Bliss felt it.
Maybe it was because we were both actors. Maybe it was just because of who we were. But I could see in her eyes that she knew, too. This was the end of a chapter.
We were moving in different directions, and every minute put us another mile apart. Regardless of what my feelings for Bliss had been, there was too much history between us to ever go back to how we were. I’d thought that if I could just get over the pain, then everything else would fall back into place. Well, the pain was gone, but the rift it had caused between us remained.
Funny how four years of friendship could be so completely devastated by one moment of more than friendship. Bliss was the one piece of my old life that I hadn’t had to say good-bye to when I moved to Philly. College had been like home to me, the big family that I’d never had. But that home didn’t exist anymore. And trying to hold on to it through Bliss wasn’t good for either of us.
All the memories and feelings that had connected Bliss and me had frayed until we were connected only by a flimsy, dying thread. It reminded me of an empty theatre after the play had ended, the audience had left, and the crew had cleaned up. The last one to leave turned out all the lights, and left a solitary ghost light in the otherwise darkened space. As we stood there, stiff and awkward, that last thread, that last light, gave way.
Bliss took an uneven breath, and pressed her lips together in a way that I knew meant she was trying not to cry. I took a page out of Max’s book and slowly inhaled and exhaled.
“Well, we should go clear our stuff from the stage,” Max said. “Cade, babe, do you think you could help? Our drummer had to leave.”
I blinked and looked away from Bliss. “Sure. Sure, I can do that.”
I looked at Garrick, then Bliss, and said, “It was good to see you both. Congratulations again.” I shook Garrick’s hand, and this time I gave Bliss a real hug. She pressed her cheek into my chest, and her arms squeezed tight around my middle. She mumbled something that sounded like “Burning out,” and then released me. She was blinking rapidly, but I could still see the tears gathering around the corners of her eyes.
“Good-bye, Bliss.”
I felt surprisingly numb, like a wound that had been cauterized. Maybe it would hurt more later. Or maybe I was just learning that even the good things from our pasts still only belonged in the past.
“Good-bye, Cade.”
Spencer walked the two of them out, and I was left alone with Max. I took a deep breath and sunk back onto the couch.
Max stood above me and said, “I don’t even know what the hell just happened, and I’m depressed.”
I laughed, which all things considered was far better than the variety of reactions I could have had. “It was depressing, wasn’t it?”
“You okay, Golden Boy?”
I lifted my chin to look at her, and took the hand that was dangling by her side. I pressed a quick kiss to the back of it, and then let it fall back to her side. “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to. And yes, I’m okay. Moving forward, right?”
“That is the goal, boyfriend.”
“We’re getting pretty good at pretending. Maybe you should be an actor, too.”
She laughed. “Not in a million years. I don’t like acknowledging my own emotions. Why would I want to pretend to have more just for a lousy paycheck?”
“You don’t seem to have any problem expressing emotions when you sing. You’re pretty damn great at it, actually.”
She looked away, uncomfortable, and said, “To each his own, I guess.”
Time for a subject change. I stood, and tried to stretch some of that heavy, melancholy feeling out of my limbs. “Let’s go pack up your stuff, Angry Girl.”
“Oh, you don’t have to help. I was just giving you an excuse . . .”
“Don’t be stupid. You know I’m going to help you.”