What He's Been Missing

“Yeah . . . decompress. I’m sure that’s what it is.”

After a little alcohol and food, it didn’t take long for Ian and me to go back to who we were. We were all politics and disagreement. The first pitcher of beer was followed by a second and then a long sigh where we just smiled at each other. I realized how much I had missed my friend and wondered what I’d been afraid of.

Then he brought it up: “So how’s Xavier?”

“Good,” I said like I was on an interview. “He’s at my place working. He Skypes his business meetings. Welcome to 2011!”

“Fancy. So—how did you two get together?”

“Wow! I didn’t expect you to ask me that.”

“Why? I mean, I’m cool with it and stuff. You and I are just friends. I just want you to be happy.”

“Really? I thought it would be awkward . . . since . . . you know . . . what happened.”

“You thought I’d be mad?” Ian asked.

“No. It’s not like you tried to get with me.” Right then, just right then, I remembered everything Ian had ever done in my life that could be confused with him trying to get with me: the foot massages, posting up at my place, making me tea, coming to the rescue, holding my hand, kissing me on the lips. Maybe he hadn’t tried, but looking at him, I was thinking he sure made it easy for me to get it twisted.

“Sometimes, I regret that I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Joking!” Ian laughed. “That’s the old beer bitch talking! I’m happy for you, Rach! If you think Xavier is the right man for you, go for it. I’m sure Mr. All About Me will make a great husband.”

“Husband? And what is that supposed to mean, ‘If I think’?”

“My boy don’t have the best track record,” Ian pointed out.

“He’s different now.”

“I’m sure he is. Listen, I’m cool. In fact, why don’t you two come by and visit Scarlet and me sometime? It’ll be great.”

“You think so?”

“Yup.”

Ian and I toasted to the promise and agreed that we’d try our best to keep our Wednesday lunch dates alive. The next week, I had to call off lunch, though. Xavier wanted me to join him at a meeting regarding this woman’s paintings. Ian texted me two times during the meeting.

On a humid summer night, in a plantation house in the North Georgia Mountains, Mrs. Dawn George became Mrs. Alexander Justin Holmes. At first, they were a little let down that I’d wanted them to move up the date from New Year’s, but when I told them how colorful and vibrant and full of life the mountains that cradled the plantation would be in August, they perked up. And it was the best decision possible. Dawn’s twins were all over the property, chasing lightning bugs and picking the flowers we used to decorate the bridal suite.

Neither one of them cried when they said their vows. They held hands with the twins in front of one of the lakes on the property and spoke like they were lying in bed together, promising that their love would never end.

There were only sixty guests. No one from entertainment. Only one professional photographer taking black and whites. It was quiet and beautiful.

At the wedding reception, under a tent beside a field of strawberries, R. J., Daw

n’s son, led the Soul Train line and asked Krista to dance with him—I think he was in love.

Xavier surprised me and showed up right before it was over to drive me home. I’d ridden up with Krista and was planning on coming back that night, but he said he missed me too much to wait for me to return.

After Dawn threw her bouquet, she and A. J. said good night to their guests so they could enjoy their wedding night alone in a cottage at the back of the plantation. Xavier and I ended up being the last two people on the dance floor. My feet were hurting, so I took off my shoes and danced to Anita Baker singing about being caught up in the rapture of love. It was so appropriate, because I was caught up in the rapture of him . . . until he let me go and we did a two-step that led to him stepping on my pinky toe.

“Ouch!” I hollered.

Xavier had to carry me to the car and we argued about his sloppy misstep all the way back into the city. I was calling him Vanilla Ice and joked that I might have to cut him for messing with my pinky toe.

When we got back to my place, he insisted on carrying me into the building like I was a little baby.