Chapter 28 Are We Friends?
Are We Friends?
— T WO M ONTHS TO A MELIE’S W EDDING —
“You know, someday you’ll have to tell me how in the world you tracked down my dress, though I never said where it was, and convinced the shop to open at nine at night just so you could give me life advice.”
“I’ll tell you when you tell me the name of that damn bakery. That coffee cake—”
“Just shut up.”
He chuckles, the laughter quickly dwindling as we get out of the car and walk toward my building.
“You’ll have to let me reimburse you for it too,” I add. We go through the gate and take the short pathway to the porch. I know for a fact how expensive that dress is, and it’s got too many zeros to be a gift.
“It’s my wedding gift to you.”
I stop and give him a reprimanding look. “No, it is not .”
“Early Christmas gift, then.” He smirks, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his jeans. “I’m stupidly gorgeous, disarmingly funny, and disgustingly rich.” Moving past me, he adds, “The whole package.”
I sigh, following him to the door. “You forgot deceivingly humble.”
“That too.”
“I’m not comfortable with you giving me such an expensive gift, Ian.”
“All right. You can pay me back.” He halts at the door. “Drinks are on you on the next friendly date.”
Thinking of the way he looked at me back at the bridal shop—of the way he looks at me in most moments—I stare down at the flagstone slabs of the patio. When I meet his gaze, there’s a patient smile on his face, as if he doesn’t mind my silence at all. As if he’d be okay with just turning around, walking to his car, and driving away, though we both know that’s not all he wants, is it?
“Are we… friends, Ian?”
His lips part, his eyes roaming over my face for a few seconds before focusing on mine. “Yes. By my definition of it, we’re friends.”
“Let me guess. You’ve got an unpopular opinion about friendship.”
He chuckles, taking a slow step forward. “I don’t know if it’s unpopular, but here it comes. A friend is someone who doesn’t judge you. Who maybe can’t make things better but will try and, if all else fails, will just sit in silence with you. Someone you can count on; someone who is happy when you are. A friend is someone who makes you laugh a little harder and smile a whole lot more.” With another step, he stands before me. “You are that to me. Am I that to you?”
“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “You are.”
“Then we’re friends.”
I swallow; the word “friends” so inadequately describes me and Ian that I can’t help but pout.
“You know what I think, Amelie?” he asks before taking a deep breath. “I think friendship is at the base of the best love stories.” He smiles as he looks into the distance. “Maybe not all love stories start with friendship, but eventually the ones that last are the relationships in which your partner becomes your best friend too.”
“I love that.”
“Is Frank your best friend?”
Frank is probably the person who knows me best—or, rather, knew me best. Although objectively ridiculous, it feels as if Ian took that spot in only four months. But even if Frank were on the podium… no. I don’t think I’d ever call him my best friend. After our engagement, I certainly wouldn’t.
“He—he asked me to have an open relationship until the wedding,” I confess.
I’m not sure why I’m coming clean now, but as soon as I do, I feel better. I always thought it would feel humiliating, but it’s not. It’s liberating. Cathartic. Now someone else knows, and I don’t have to carry all this weight by myself.
Ian leans against the door, not nearly as surprised as I’d expected him to be. “Hmm.”
“Ian?” I ask. Once he stares at me with a tight-lipped smile, my shoulders go weak. “You already knew.”
“Well… I wasn’t sure of it at first, but ‘a paradigm shift’?” He smiles sadly. “You weren’t as mysterious as you thought. Then, at the Quinns’ wedding, you said he wanted to have some new experiences. That’s when I knew.”
Lip quivering, I look away. I might be overreacting, might be making no sense at all, but it feels like a betrayal. Ian knew all along. “So that’s why you stuck around.”
“What?”
I meet his gaze, my lips pressed tightly so that they won’t tremble. “You were waiting for me to tell you so that you could—”
“Amelie,” he says, stopping me. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he shakes his head. “Being your friend has been the best part of the last four months. Actually, scratch that: it’s been the highlight of my life.” He looks thoughtful, and I just know he’s not done. “But don’t ask me to tell you there isn’t more. You know there is, and not only from my side.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
He shrugs. “I was waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me. We’ve always discussed pretty personal stuff, and you never said a word. I figured you didn’t want to.”
He’s right. I didn’t. And now I’m so relieved, I wish I’d told him before. “I guess… you’ve been my escape for the past four months,” I say with a crooked smile. “I didn’t really want to think about that when I was with you. And, well, I knew you’d have things to say.”
“I’ve got a whole catalog of things to say—a list so long, it would have to come out in three volumes.”
“Please, spare me,” I say, raising my hand. “I know how pathetic this all is without your input.”
“It’s not pathetic, Amelie.”
“Oh, but it is.” I run a hand through my hair. “I let Martha walk all over me; I let my dad manipulate me; I let Frank blackmail me into this with the promise of a marriage.”
“That’s what he said?” His eyebrows knit together. “That he’d marry you only if you accepted an open relationship?”
Not in so many words, but close enough.
When I nod, he peers through the glass doors into the building, as if he’s looking for Frank. Judging by his expression, it’s not to congratulate him on his idea. “So he offered you what you wanted, what’s most important to you—dangled it under your nose—then attached some absurd condition to it.” He sighs loudly. “That’s not manipulative at all.”
“As I said, pathetic.”
He turns to me, biting his lower lip as his blue-flecked eyes soften. “Why? Why did you agree to it?”
With a frown, I study his expression. It’s a legitimate question. Why did I do it? Why did I take everyone’s side but my own? “Because I loved my relationship with Frank and my friendship with Martha,” I whisper. I think of all the years together, of how every single one of my memories involves the two of them. All my important moments, all the good and bad. “Because it all crashed at the same time, and I can’t afford to lose everything.”
“See, that doesn’t sound pathetic to me. That sounds scary.”
Well, it is. Or was. And as I look at him, I realize it’s not that scary anymore, because even if everything else were to fall apart, I truly believe Ian would be there for me. He wouldn’t let me down. “You’re the only person in my life who’s there unconditionally,” I whisper. I take a step closer. “And I mean that literally. You haven’t attached any conditions to our friendship. To us.”
Smiling stiffly, he turns away, and a horrible weight settles on my stomach.
“Or not.”
“No, Amelie, I—” He turns back to me and runs both hands over his face, the only noise coming from the buzzing overhead neon light. “The way I feel about you, I… I couldn’t help it if I wanted to.”
My muscles stiffen, the rest of his thought weighing on me even before he expresses it. “Just get to the ‘but,’ Ian.”
He hesitates, his eyes scanning my face for a few moments. “If that’s all you want me to be, Amelie, that’s what I’ll be. Your friend who has feelings for you.”
My heartbeat accelerates as if it’s knocking from inside my chest, asking me to open the door, asking me to let it free. I can’t say I’m surprised Ian has feelings for me, but it’s the first time he’s said it openly.
“But I won’t do it for him.” He points at the door. “Because a friend would tell you this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. A friend would tell you there’s nothing wrong with open relationships unless they’re one-sided.”
“Ian…”
He shakes his head. “My condition is that you do the scary thing and break it off, Amelie. This sham of an engagement. My condition is that you stop choosing someone who isn’t choosing you back.”
Tears run down my cheeks, and I look downward in an attempt to hide it. When his arms wrap tightly around me, I bury my face in his sweater, grabbing it in my fists behind his back. I cry, and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, but I don’t want to either. It feels so good to let go. To let part of it wash away with my tears in the comfort Ian provides.
“You do this one thing. This huge, terrifying, necessary thing, and there will never be more conditions from me, Amelie. Never again. I’ll be in your life unconditionally.”
I swallow against his chest, my throat sticking so much that I can hardly breathe. Because it’s undeniable: I’m considering it. I’m considering his words with more than my heart. I’m thinking them through, picturing possibilities, alternatives, consequences. My rational brain is being won over by my emotions, and I’m letting it.
What if I did break the engagement? What if I never saw Frank again? Could I give up such a fundamental part of my life? Could I do it for Ian, and, even more importantly, could I do it for myself?
“What happens then?” I sniffle against his chest as he drops kisses on the top of my head. “If I break the engagement off… what will I do?”
His chest heaves against me. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“Frank and I bought this apartment. How’s that going to work? And how am I going to tell everyone the wedding is off? What will I say?” I restlessly shift against his chest, looking up at his face and begging for solutions. Begging for a magic fix. “How can I just turn my back on him? Everyone will hate me. Everyone will blame me and hate me.”
“Amelie, we’ll take it one step at a time.”
“No, Ian, no,” I wail as I push myself off his chest. “That’s not enough. You can’t tell me I should destroy everything—hurt every person in my life—and expect me to be okay not having a plan. What about us, huh? You say you have feelings for me, then you say if I want to, you’ll be my friend.” As anger mounts in my chest, I cross my arms. “But you never said you want to be with me, did you?”
His mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes are dewy, his forehead creased with worry, but he says nothing. And for the first time, Ian disappoints me too.
“Right. You’ve got plenty of answers when it comes to fixing my life, but what about yours?” I angrily wipe the tears off my face. “You don’t want a girlfriend. You might have feelings for me, but you don’t want me.”
When he reaches forward, I take a step back.
“I want to be with you, Amelie. Of course I do.”
“But?”
He shakes his head. “There is no ‘but.’?”
“But, Ian?” I insist. I know there’s something. I can see the doubt in his eyes, the insecurity, the dread.
“But I can’t promise you a wedding. A marriage.” His eyes sweeten. “It’s the one thing I can’t do, and I know it’s important to you, but you don’t need a marriage to know I won’t leave. I’ll prove it to you by choosing you every day.”
My eyes water again. “You’re asking me to stop making sacrifices for others, to put myself first, to indulge in that ‘Fuck it’ attitude you have about everything so that I can start all over again with you.”
“No.” Gingerly, he steps closer and takes a gentle hold of my chin. “That’s why I didn’t make this about us.” He slowly inhales and tucks some hair behind my ear. “Because it’s not about that. It’s about you. If Frank isn’t the man you love, then you shouldn’t be with him. And if getting married is so important to you, then…” His eyes half close, the shimmer in them telling me he’s holding back tears.
“…then I shouldn’t be with you either.”
For a while he says nothing. Just studies my face longingly. And for a while I wish he’d just close the distance between us and kiss me.
But the more he doesn’t, the less I want him to, until my hand finds his and pushes it off my chin. “I should go.”
“Amelie, wait.”
“No, Ian. No.” Tears spill down my cheeks uncontrollably, my nose so stuffy I can hardly breathe. And, God, it angers me because this might be the last time I see him, and I want to smell the fresh scent of clean clothes and man that’s uniquely Ian. “You can’t run after an engaged woman and be surprised that she wants to get married.”
“I know, Amelie. I know. But I can’t choose who I fall for, and marriage is just something I can’t… I can’t contemplate right now. Maybe one day—we could see if—”
“Just forget about it,” I mumble.
“Amelie, I want to be with you. I have feelings for you. Does that not count for anything?” he asks, following me as I prepare to go inside my apartment. “Do you really want a wedding with a jerk who doesn’t love you?”
“You came into my life and disrupted it for nothing, Ian,” I insist as I fumble with my keys.
“Really? I disrupted your life?” He gives me a dry look. “Not your fiancé sleeping with other women? Not your best friend stealing your wedding?”
“No. You. Because when I met you, I started to see what the alternative was, and it made it impossible to accept anything less.” Frustrated, I turn to him. “You say you don’t know love. Well, news flash, Ian: My mom left. My dad is a huge asshole. I’ve had no other relationship apart from Frank my whole life—” I break off with a sob. “And then I met you. And it feels like… like you taught me what love is.”
His eyes close, his throat working hard. “So did you.”
“And now you’re taking it away from me.” I shake my head. “Dangling it in front of my eyes, then attaching some absurd condition for me to get it. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“Amelie, whatever happens between us has nothing to do with the fact that you’re getting married to a man who doesn’t love you. Who you don’t love.”
“It changes everything .”
His fingers wrap around my arm, gently tugging me closer. There’s a stern but loving look on his face, the look of someone who’s not done fighting. Who’s not done trying. But I’m so done. I’m exhausted, defeated, and lost, and the one person I thought was my light through it all is just as stuck in the darkness as I am.
We hug silently for a long time. My chest spasms against his, but as his fingers thread through my hair, I’m slowly soothed. Until his lips brush the side of my head, and his arms lower around my back. Then he kisses my cheek, once, twice, the soft contact sending shivers down my spine.
Before tonight, I never thought I’d consider being with another man but Frank. Not for sex, not for more. But now? Pressed against Ian’s chest?
I pull back lightly, looking into his eyes. His lips are calling to me, and right now that’s as far as I want to plan. I want to kiss him. I want to feel everything he said, everything I know is true.
Tilting my head up, I rest my hands on his chest and rise up onto my toes, then lean forward until his breath mixes with mine.
“What the hell?”
We both flinch, backing away from each other before our lips so much as graze, and turn to Martha. She’s staring at me, wide-eyed, her face red and puffy. “Ma-Martha,” I breathe, my heartbeat spiking as I take a step back. “What are you—”
“Who is this?” she asks, aggressively walking closer as she points her finger at him.
Ian offers her his hand. “Nice to—”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Amelie? Frank leaves for six months and you cheat on him?”
“We—Ian is just a friend who—” I stutter. “Don’t make a scene. Frank knows.” I notice the tissue in her hand. “Wait, what’s going on? Why are you crying?”
She looks at Ian, her nostrils flaring, but her chin wobbles. “Trevor’s mom passed away. And of course now Trevor wants to postpone the wedding.”
Ian turns to me, eyes wide.
“Oh my God, M. What happened?”
“Don’t you dare change the topic.” She points at Ian and me. “You’re here with another man, Amelie. You were about to kiss! What the hell has gotten into you?”
Great idea, Amelie, asking Frank to keep this arrangement quiet. Leave it to me to look like the cheater in this damn situation.
Ian moves his hand up. “Martha, I assure you, nothing’s going on. Amelie and I—”
“Oh, you shut up!” she spits out. “What kind of man gets in between an engaged couple? Huh? Have you no respect?”
He smiles my way, unfazed by her screeching accusations. “Wait until she sees the wedding gift I got you. She’ll be crazy about me then.”
“What does he mean?”
“Just—” I groan, throwing Ian a glare. “Give us a second, M.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.” She crosses her arms, a challenging glare directed at Ian, who smirks down at her.
Grabbing his arm, I pull Ian back through the gate, but Martha follows us, muttering, “Like hell I’m giving you privacy.” I’d like to strangle her, but I ignore her and hurriedly walk Ian to his car.
His eyes lock with mine as he opens the door, and after throwing a look at Martha, he focuses on me again. I know there’s more he’d like to say, but his gaze tells me plenty. There’s a plea, a promise, a future in it. “I’ll call you. We can finish our conversation.”
Martha interjects again. “No, you—”
“Just shut up for a minute!” I shout just as Ian screams, “Will you fuck off?”
I’m pretty sure I’ve never screamed at Martha this way, or so her shocked expression suggests as she takes a step back.
Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention back to Ian, to his beautiful smile, his kind eyes. To the little strands of hair over his forehead, the shapely jaw I felt against my ear a minute ago.
He can’t call me because there’s nothing else to say. Because there’s something fundamentally incompatible between the two of us, and neither is willing to compromise.
Maybe if we’d met a few years back, things would have been different. But eight weeks away from my wedding, I can’t do anything. Surely I can’t do what he has suggested. I can’t leave Frank, throw the last fifteen years to the wind. Not when I’m so close to the finish line, not after the four months of pure hell I’ve been through. And not when I’d do that for nothing at all. Soon it’ll all be over, and things between Frank and me will slowly go back to the closest version of normalcy we’ll be able to achieve.
Any alternative is madness.
So I shake my head in a silent yet deadly rejection.
Ian’s shoulders slump, and the hurt in his face mirrors mine. He looks surprised, as if he held on to the belief I’d choose him until the very last moment, when I utterly shattered his heart. “Amelie, please, I—”
“No, Ian, no,” I say, the words coming out in a choked-up voice. “You’ve made your decision and I’ve made mine.”
For a few seconds he looks down with a slow nod, and when he lifts his head and his eyes look into mine once more, they’re colder than ice. “Goodbye, beautiful.”