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Suddenly, it feels like my lungs are getting crushed.
Without thinking, I turn on my heel, weaving through the party and towards the ballroom’s big wooden doors. As I step out into the hotel lobby, my heart is pounding hard. Making my way over to the lifts, I lean against the wall, taking a few deep breaths.
I honestly didn’t expect that coming to the wedding would be so hard; but I also didn’t expect it to look like I’d stepped right back into my old wedding photographs. The last time I was here was the best night of my life. And now everything I worked so hard to achieve back then is gone.
It’s hard not to feel like I’ve lost something.
A hand touches my arm. I turn to see Amy looking up at me, her eyes wide. She must have followed me out here; she looks ridiculously out of place, standing in the atrium in her puffy white gown.
I force myself to smile at her. “Hi,” I say. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”
She snorts and waves me off. “Re-wearing the dress was a bad idea. I can barely breathe in this thing. And I already gave up on my heels.” She lifts the hem of her dress, showing me the pair of Converse hidden underneath.
“Well. It’s a lovely party. Thank you for the invite.”
“Thanks for coming. Since your best friend is now my brother-in-law, I thought it would be best for us to show there’s no bad blood between us. Might make family events less awkward.”
I nod.“How’s Emery High?”
“Same old, same old. I’ve been thinking of switching schools. You can only be the principal of one place for so many years before it gets mind-numbing.”
I nod, and we both stand silently for a moment, looking out over the lobby.
“So,” she says eventually. “Layla Thompson.”
“Yes.”
“How did you two meet again?”
“She lives in my building. Moved into the flat opposite mine a few years ago.”
“Right. And you’ve been seeing her all that time?” The disapproval is clear in her voice.
I close my eyes. “Are you going to tell me off? Trust me, I was hesitant, but she insisted that enough time has passed that it’s not creepy or pathetic to be dating an ex-student.”
“That’s not my issue.” She purses her lips. She’s wearing her favourite dusky-pink lipstick; Tender Rose, I think it’s called. At our wedding, I had to reapply it for her five times, because I kept kissing it off.
I grimace at the memory. I don’t miss Amy. I honestly don’t. But I miss myself, back then. I miss how optimistic and happy I was. I miss how utterly sure I was that the relationship would work out.
I don’t think I’ve been sure about anything since the divorce. It killed that part of me.
“What do you remember about her from school?” Amy asks carefully.
“Not a lot. She was smart and quiet. It was the year our divorce papers were going through, so…” I trail off. “I wasn’t fully present in classes.”
“Hm.” Amy tugs on her earring. “But you like her, don’t you?”
“More than I ever expected to,” I admit.
“I thought so.” She sighs heavily. “Look. I don’t want to ruin your day, or anything. But I have to tell you something.”
The tone of her voice is scarily sombre. “Yes?” When she doesn’t respond, alarm bells start ringing. “Amy, what is it?”
“I saw her kissing Josh earlier,” she says. “Behind the roses. I thought you’d want to know.”
My shoulders ease, relief flooding through me. “I see.”
She stares at me. Clearly, she was expecting a more dramatic response. “That’s it?” She asks, incredulous. “I see?”
