“Watch it, girl,” Amanda hollered. “He’s taken.”
“Anyway,” I continued, shaking my head, and directing my attention to the guests, “when they were dancing, I finally realized what makes their relationship so unique, so able to withstand any hardship that they’ll face in the future.” Silence settled over the room, and I took the moment to look over to Shane and Amanda, who had their arms around each other tightly.
“It’s what happens in the pauses,” I said quietly. “When you're dancing . . . it’s easy to let the choreography do the work because it tells you exactly where to go, exactly which steps to take. But it's the pauses that differentiate the good dancers from the great ones.” I looked down for a moment, deciding how to best say what I wanted to convey next. “When the music stops, great dancers make even those small, seemingly insignificant moments special.”
I wiped a few runaway tears from my cheek with my thumb, collecting myself before I spoke again. “And the same is true of life, I guess. When everything seems to come to a halt and you’re in between steps, you have to find a way to come together and make even the mundane moments memorable.” I turned to face Amanda and Shane, giving them a warm smile through my tears. “You both do that better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I raised my glass up to them, and the rest of the guests did the same. “Amanda and Shane, I wish you both many years filled with love, family, and unconditional happiness. But there’s one thing I won’t wish you. And that’s luck. Because I know you won’t need it,” I shrugged. “You're already great at the pauses. To Amanda and Shane, everybody.”
I took a sip of my champagne and held my arms out to hug Amanda, who had already begun to make her way toward me. “I love you,” I said. “Congratulations to you both.”
“I love you too, Lil.” She wrapped her arms around me tightly and sniffled. “And that speech was badass, by the way,” she said in an effort to lighten the mood as she pulled back. “Great at the pauses, huh?” she smirked. “That shit’s fucking genius.”
"Thanks," I laughed. "It's amazing what you can learn from So You Think You Can Dance."
Eventually, Adam made his way downstairs to congratulate Shane and Amanda. Then we took a slice of cake to share at one of the round booths on the second level. Alone, for the first time in a while, we fed each other small bites and chatted about the upcoming summer, our jobs, and how perfect the wedding had been. The entire night had been so Amanda and Shane. Sporty, but elegant. Comfortable, but still formal: the physical embodiment of their individual lives becoming one. It was so natural, so . . . effortless that I wondered how they did it.
Finally, it seemed that we’d discussed just about everything there was to talk about, and despite the loud music, a noticeable quiet hung between us. “Guess it’s almost over,” Adam finally said as he swallowed his last bit of cake.
I shifted the last few crumbs around on the plate before looking up into his clear green eyes. “Yeah,” I answered quietly. “I guess it is.”
***
“How many bathing suits do you think I’ll need?” Amanda slung the contents of her top drawer onto the bed, covering it with bikinis, underwear and bras.
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe three? You’ll be in Bermuda a week.” I moved a thong off my leg with my fingertip and tossed it toward the edge of the bed. “I can’t believe you still have stuff in the apartment. It seems like you’ve already moved pretty much everything to Shane’s.”
“I have. Well, everything except for my furniture and some leftover clothes. Oh, and that blender. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about it. It’s coming with me.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said sternly, pausing just long enough to see the irritation on Amanda’s face before I cracked a smile. “I bought you one of your own just like it. It’s in my room. Brand new, not yet tainted by kale.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet, Lil. What am I gonna do without you?” She threw a few more items into her suitcase haphazardly.
“Oh, I don’t know. Cry yourself to sleep every night to thoughts of me, talk to photographs of me and pretend that they’re real, spray your pillows with my perfume so my scent can comfort you—”