“Sybil, oh my gosh. Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath. I don’t need Nikki spiraling off the deep end with me. “I’m all right,” I tell her. “It’s justweird. It’s weird, right?”
I still can’t believe Jamie and I are both here, at this hotel, on the very same off-season weekend. The odds must be astronomical.
Actually, I suppose, in a way, theyareastronomical. Our universe is full of cosmic coincidences. The whole reason we’re able to experience the phenomenon of a solar eclipse is because the sun is four hundred times bigger than the moon, but also just so happens to be four hundred times farther away, making them appear the same size to us in the sky. Weird, unlikely things happen all the time. Without them, life on our planet wouldn’t even exist.
I wrote a science report all about this in tenth grade.
And yet, knowing these factoids doesn’t do much to lessen the blow of unexpectedly running into Jamie with second-day hair and a schmear of sunblock on my nose.
“Totally weird,” Nikki agrees. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Except, maybe not?”
“Explain.”
“Well… his cancellation vouchers were probably expiring around the same time, so…”
“Oh, right.”
I suppose that explains the coincidental timing. Maybe he got the same alert. Maybe he figured he’d kill two birds with one stone: meet up with some high-net-worth individuals for the firm (Jamie and his father were always jetting off to luxury locations to schmooze with potential investors) while also treating his new girlfriend to what was essentially a free Hawaiian vacation.
“I’m sorry this is so weird for you, Sybs,” Nikki says through the phone. “I hope it doesn’t ruin your trip.”
“It won’t,” I say with one hundred percent more conviction than I feel.
“So, you’re not going to… leave?” Nikki asks tentatively.
“Of course not.” I don’t admit to her that open on my phone right now is a Safari tab searching for flights back to LAX tonight. After running into Jamie, the urge to flee was strong, but it turns out that even my impulse to run can be schooled by hefty change fees. It would have cost me over a thousand dollars to return home early. My wallet won’t let me do that. And neither will my pride. I’m not going to go running with my tail between my legs just because Jamie is here.
“Good, that’s good,” Nikki says. “Also, I don’t know, but maybe things happen for a reason?”
“Reason? What do you mean?”
“I mean, you could, like, talk to him?” Nikki’s voice tips up at the end. “You guys never really talked.”
“Oh, trust me, we talked.” Memories of the ugly words exchanged behind a flower arch in a beautiful field in Malibu flood my mind.
“You fought, Sybil. That’s different,” Nikki says, as if hearing my thoughts. “And now, more time has gone by… you’ve done some great work in therapy. You’ve changed. Maybe he has too. Maybe you guys could—”
“Niks,” I cut her off. “I’m still me. And Jamie is still… Jamie.” I sigh. As much as I tried to deny it when we were together, the fact was, Jamie and I were like oil and water. (Me: glitter-infused, strawberry-scented body oil, him: distilled, ethically sourced alkaline water.)
We just didn’t work.
“It’s whatever,” I say to Nikki. “I probably won’t even run into them again. And if I do, I’ll be perfectly pleasant.”
“Them?” Nikki asks.
“Yeah, he’s here with a coworker from The Kauffman Group.Genevieve Something. She seems really lovely, actually… and also gorgeous. I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure they’re dating.”
Nikki groans into the phone.
“Yuuuup,” I say, popping the P, as I acknowledge the truly batshit scenario I’ve found myself in.
But it’s not just the fear of running into Jamie again that’s got me rattled… it’s all the memories that are getting unleashed in his wake. The cozy Saturday brunches at home and Sunday movie nights. The gallery openings and upscale dinners with his fancy business colleagues and the way that, no matter how big the crowd, he’d always lock eyes with me across a table or a room, and I’d just feel held, seen. Like he was there for me and only me. And, of course, the way he kissed me—every time, for as long as we were together, he kissed me like it was the first time. Tentative yet hungry. Like he couldn’t believe he had won me over somehow. How he could be the perfect gentleman that everyone in both our circles looked up to but still just the right amount naughty behind closed bedroom doors—or shower doors, or car doors, or that one time behind a stone wall on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea somewhere between Big Sur and Monterey…
“Okay, well, keep me posted,” Nikki says, interrupting my thoughts.
“I will. And oh, hey—when does shooting start?”
