“Well, that was the initial plan when I went off to college,” she explains, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “But I ended up switching to a psychology major in the second semester of freshman year. It was tough, but I also did a post-graduate program to set me up. I passed my licensing exam and worked under my mentor. She was incredibly encouraging when we spoke about going out on my own. And so here I am.” She shrugs nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal.
“That’s incredible,” I say, my voice filled with encouragement. “You should be proud of yourself.” As I talk, I reach for her hand, hoping to remind her of the connection weshare. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away. I let our hands linger for a few moments, stroking the top of her hand with the pad of my thumb, feeling the warmth.
Her eyes soften as she opens up to me, welcoming the conversation. Her openness encourages me, pushing me to ask, “What made you change your major?”
She shifts in her seat, and her gaze drifting to the side, avoiding mine. “You know, life changes,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with hurt. I can’t help but wonder if her thoughts have wandered back to us, to the way things ended so poorly, a decision I regret.
The end of that summer still haunts me; guilt wraps around my heart like a vise. If only I could go back and erase all the pain I caused her.
“It sure does, doesn’t it?” I reply in an attempt to keep the mood light. “Well, congratulations are definitely in order. Building a business is not for the faint of heart. It’s a lot of work.” I feel my chest swell with pride—we’re both building successful businesses.
As I think about what Faith and I have achieved over the past twelve years, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. I glance out at the ocean and wonder how I ever walked away from her. The thought of holding her again makes my heart squeeze tight in my chest. It’s a bittersweet reminder of what once was.
Pulling me from my thoughts, she says, “Enough about me. Wedding photographer, huh? How did you get into that?”
“Long story short, someone took a chance on me, and it worked out well. I started as an assistant, and my above-average work earned me a chance to prove myself. Thankfully, it didn’t backfire.”
“I’ve seen some of your work, and it blew me away.” She puts her hand on my forearm and says, “You are very talented.”
It’s like old times. Sharing our life and our goals brightens my day. Each story we exchange feels like a thread that’s weaving us closer together. My heart pounds rapidly, as if trying to leap out of my chest.
“Thank you, Faith. That means a lot coming from you. Never imagined photography would be my path, but I love it. I’ve built my business to suit my lifestyle. My business has exclusive photography for weddings at the resort, and it took years to build a relationship with the right people, but it was all worth it.”
“That’s amazing, Jude! I’m happy for you. You seem passionate about your work.” She flashes me one of her genuine smiles that reach her eyes.
Those words mean more coming from Faith than anyone else in my life. She always supported everything I did, no matter what. Max and Klara are friends of a lifetime. It’s different when the one you love with all your heart and soul supports you without question. I miss it. I miss her. I missus.
The boat glides slowly toward the dock. Passengers around us gather their belongings to get off. We follow, and I notice her movements are relaxed. We were laughing and sharing stories, feeling in sync with one another.
My mouth goes dry. I want to spend more time with her. “Faith, can we meet up later? Maybe after dinner.”
I watch as her brows furrow, and she looks at the ground and says, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
She’s clearly struggling. It’s like she wants to say yes, but something is keeping her from saying it.
“Please? I’d like to catch up some more,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck with a mixture of nervousness and hope.
She glances aside, nervously shifting her stance. “Talking to you and hearing about your life was nice. Is there really anything else to talk about?” Her voice carries a hint of hesitation, as if she’s weighing her options.
Her eyes hold a knowing look, implying much remains unsaid. Her expression softens slightly, a silent acknowledgment that maybe she needs this time just as much as I do.
“I have more to tell you, if you’ll let me. Please.” I reach over and gently touch her hand.
She stares into my eyes with what looks like a glint of hope. Then, she takes a long pause before she says, “Okay, since you asked nicely.”
“How about eight o’clock at the tiki bar?”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
SEVENTEEN
FAITH
I’m late! I jump out of the van and run. Kendall must be out of her mind. She’s been talking about this meeting for months.
I fly around the corner and come close to knocking over a couple. “Sorry!” I yell over my shoulder, as I keep pace to get to the meeting.
I don’t stop until I reach a door that says,Charlie, Wedding Planner. I take a couple of breaths before entering. I slide into a seat as everyone is sitting at the table with swatches of linen colors, books opened to flower arrangements, and a stack of what looks like wedding albums. I’m happy for her, but a part of me is sad for myself. The way Jude nonchalantly dropped the comment about girls having their weddings planned made my heart pound, my throat tighten, and I had to struggle to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. It feels selfish, I know, but I can’t help remembering how I once imagined walking down the aisle years ago. Yet here I am, sitting beside one of my best friends, celebrating her upcoming wedding. Is it possible to feel the weight of all the sadness for myself while genuinely happy for Kendall at the same time?
