in his full Marine regalia and hat, smiling bigger than I’d ever seen. On his arm was a beautiful woman with curly brown hair pinned up, a white off-the-shoulder gown, also smiling huge. The caption read: Marine officer, Major Shawn Fowler of Raleigh, marries Charlotte native Natalie Renstein on October 3rd at Charlotte Methodist Church. The couple and their son reside on Okinawa Japan’s military base.
I felt some kind of way that day. My body went through all of the motions. Should I cry? I felt like I should, and for a second I was huffing on air like a good jag was about to happen, but then I settled and what was left behind was a fog of remorse, followed by the relief of closure. Part of me had been waiting, wondering if Shawn would come back into my life someday. But we weren’t meant to be. I guess they were, and good for them. I was only the slightest bit bitter at their big fucking smiles. One thing was for certain, though. I’d never be googling Shawn Fowler again.
Two days before Halloween it was my birthday and we were going out on the town: the Big Apple. It was finally boots and sweater weather, and we were feeling good as we got off the subway, laughing, feeling like we belonged on television with our cute selves kicking leaves as we went. Willa had switched flights with someone so she could make it since she usually got in late on Thursdays.
We went to a four-story nightclub because all I wanted to do was dance and listen to music so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. One hour into it, I was feeling good on the dance floor and eyeing the club for a kissing-target when I saw a familiar face. I stared at the man and as soon as our eyes met I realized who it was.
Dean! The first guy I’d met and spoken to on Sparks! His head tilted to the side and his eyes squinted as if trying to place me, and then his face lit up. I went straight over, weaving my way through the dancing bodies.
“Dean, right?”
“Yes! I’m trying to remember. You have a cool name. Don’t tell me…” He made a scrunched up thinking face and blurted, “Harlow!”
“Yes!” We both laughed, and I gave him a hug. His cologne was nice.
“It’s good to meet you,” I said.
“Your pictures don’t do you justice.” He pulled back to look me up and down. I waved an arm for him to stop. “You’ve been off the app for a while. Boyfriend?”
“No,” I said.
“Are you sure? Because that guy over there is giving me the death glare.”
Huh? I followed his gaze to the bar and my stomach did an ungraceful pirouette at the sight of Silas watching us. He raised a glass and nodded when I saw him. I stared stupidly because it was beyond bizarre to see Silas out in public like this. Even in the past six months since he’d been separated, he never hung out with us.
Out of nowhere, Holly was beside me with my arm in her hand. “Um, hey,” she said, darting a glance at Dean then over to Silas. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Silas!”
I frowned and said into her ear. “He’s going to think you’re trying to hook us up!”
She shook her head. “No, he won’t!”
I turned to Dean with a tight smile. “He’s a friend of mine—”
“A really protective friend,” Holly explained, and I nodded.
“So, I need to go say hi to him,” I said. Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded, probably realizing there was underlying drama. “Dean, this is Holly. Holly, Dean.”
I left the two of them to talk as I went to the bar to greet Silas. He watched me approaching, his face serious. It made me weirdly nervous.
“Hey,” I said. Damn, he looked yummy.
He peered out at the dance floor. “I didn’t mean to take you from your date.”
“He’s not my date,” I said. But my hopes of kissing anyone was pretty much smashed. I couldn’t get freaky with cute Dean or any other guy in front of Silas. We’d been doing really well as friends, but I’d be lying if I said our little episode in the shower was not always there between us like an unacknowledged elephant in the room. “What are you drinking?” I asked.
“Long Island Iced Tea.” He turned toward the bar and took another drink off the counter. “And