What He's Been Missing

“Beautiful. Happy.”

“Really?” His eyes softened the way they usually did when he saw her.

“She loves you, Ian,” I said. “And you love her. And I’m just so—I came here to tell you that I’m so happy you didn’t lock me out today. That you let me be here for you. Like you’ve always been there for me.”

“I was really mad at you last night. You put me in a bad position. If it wasn’t for X, I don’t think I could’ve—”

“I know. I know. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I think I was just confused. Jealous. I don’t know . . . but whatever it was, afterward I did a lot of soul searching—and drinking—and I know my place now,” I said. “And it’s here with you . . . as your friend. You remember senior year at FAMU? The muscly Omega at the hotel?”

Ian cracked a half smile. “You called me at 3:00 AM. Tyson was about to catch your ass cheating.”

“I was terrified. I thought I was about to lose everything . . . and I eventually did.”

“Yeah. After they fought, the Omega told Tyson everything and he broke up with you the next day.”

“But I didn’t have to face it that night. Because you saved me,” I added.

“I parked my pickup at the window behind that beaten-down duplex and told you to jump.”

“And I was so scared. But you held out your arms, and I jumped.”

“You always make it sound so dramatic. The flat bed was like five feet down.” He turned to me with a full smile.

“It could’ve been a twofoot jump from the window—I was so shaken up, I would not have done it,” I said, “if it wasn’t for you being there for me.”

“So?” he pushed. “Why are you bringing up that old story?”

“Because you were there to support me. And that’s what I want to do for you right now. Just be there for you.”

“What you did was real fucked up,” Ian said sternly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so, so sorry. Please for—”

“But I still love you,” he said, before hugging me. He looked into my eyes and kissed me on the forehead. “It’s my wedding day, Rach,” he said grinning.

I wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, not bothering to catch my own tears.

There was a knock on the door and Ian’s father called to us, “Time to get going. Folks are lining up out here.”

“You ready?” I asked Ian.

“I was born ready, baby!” He did a boxer’s two-step and stretched his neck from side to side.

“All right, go ahead with your bad self!”

I rushed downstairs just in time to get in line to walk down the aisle.

Krista, in her headset and holding dutifully to her iPad, grabbed my hand and said in my ear, “You can do this.”

I crossed the threshold and held my breath, insisting that I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t breathe until it was over and Ian and Scarlet had said, “I do.”

I took slow steps, arm-in-arm with my escort, facing the flashing lights from cameras at every angle.

Ian was up ahead, standing like the man I’d always known, but more mature, seeming to be off on his own.

I wasn’t going to look into his eyes, but I did. Halfway down the aisle, I looked into his eyes and he was looking back at me and crying. But the tears weren’t for me. Before I knew it, I was standing in front and facing the back of the room.