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“Oh, you made it, you made it!” she cries out and hugs her daughter before grabbing me. She cups my cheeks, flattening my hair against my face.
“It’s so good to see you! How was your flight?”
Harvey is silent and commanding. He's dressed in an equally expensive suit, his graying hair combed to the side and slicked down with oil. He looks like he belongs in a boardroom, not in front of a chic hotel in the tropics.
He never looks comfortable outside his office.
?After a curt nod hello to me and a stiff hug for Stacey, he mumbles something to his PR Manager and she approaches the paparazzi who won't go away. She tries to reason with them while we follow Laura into the hotel. Stacey worried for nothing—her mother is in a great mood. She gushes about how perfect everything is so far.
My room is on the same floor as Stacey’s and the other bridesmaids who are flying in later today.
I have a whole suite, and it's beautiful. Plush beige carpets stretch wall to wall and full-length French windows look out over a breathtaking ocean view. The living room has a wet bar, an intimate circle of couches, and a fireplace that I'm sure in this heat no one ever uses. The bedroom is as large as my entire apartment back in LA, with a large poster bed in the center and more couches. The bathroom has a waterfall shower in it and a jet bath.
I walk to the bed and pick up the box of chocolates and the letter I had delivered to every room the guests are staying in for the wedding. Most of the guests bring their significant others, and I set up the delivery in such a way that it celebrates togetherness for them, too.
I didn’t think it would bother me, since I sent out the gifts myself, but it does. I’m in this glorious suite alone, sharing the big bed with no one, and I’m suddenly painfully aware of how single I am.
When I pick up my phone, I scroll to Charlie’s number. We haven’t spoken since I asked him to move out. It wasn’t one big thing that broke us up—it was all the little things. He’d fought me on it.
“Who breaks up with someone about putting their wet towel on the bed?” he asked.
I packed for him, his blond hair still wet after his shower, the shirt clinging to his back where he didn’t dry himself properly before getting dressed.
“It’s not about the towel. It’s about all the little things that aren’t working for me.”
“You have to accept the cons with the pros; isn’t that what you always tell me about everything?” He was angry. I didn’t blame him. Being dumped sucked.
“The pros don’t outweigh the cons anymore, Charlie,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He argued with me. He kept trying, all the way out of the door and to the cab downstairs, where I carried his bag for him and put it in the trunk.
“You’re going to regret it, Jenna,” he said. “One day, you’re going to end up alone because you’re not willing to accept people for who they are.”
I didn’t answer him. I folded my arms over my chest, and eventually, he had to go. He climbed into the cab, and I didn’t wait to see if he looked back.
I shake myself out of the memory, unwrap both chocolates, and pop them into my mouth. I'm not going to text him. This is what I chose. I'll find my happy ending; I just have to keep looking for the right guy and stop dating duds because I'm hoping they'll magically change.
When you kiss a frog, sadly, it stays a frog.
I need to accept that I might be alone for a while. Besides, I have friends who are there for me. It can be enough.
You're not willing to accept people for who they are. His voice keeps replaying in my mind. It's been more than a year, but I can't stop thinking about it.
I've been told my standards are too high. A lot of people have told me I'm still single because I won't accept flaws. But I can't accept less than what I'm willing to offer. It's how I see things, and someone out there has to understand. I can't be the only person in the world who thinks that way.
I don’t need a man. What I need is to build my company into something that can sustain me, and while I don’t have anyone to answer to, no one demanding slices of my time, I can do just that. Then, one day, when it’s all running smoothly, I can rethink my priorities.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep telling myself that this is exactly what I wanted, and if I keep doing it for long enough, I’ll be happy with where I am.
Isn’t that what they say about relationships? You have to be happy single before you can be happy with someone else.
Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’m finding a space where I’m happy being alone, and then one day, when Mr. Right arrives at my door, I’ll be ready for him.
I throw away the chocolate wrappers and walk out of the room to find something to do that won’t remind me how alone I am.
