It Was Never Just One Night

CHAPTER 2

Serena’s POV

"And then he got down on one knee right there, in the middle of the restaurant, and the waiter had been in on it the whole time, so the champagne appeared out of nowhere, and I just started ugly crying, Serena.

Like, thank goodness I wore a waterproof mascara. Mark was laughing but also crying, and everyone around us started clapping, and I wanted to die, but also I've never been happier in my entire life."

Allie grabbed my wrist across the table for the third time since we sat down.

I laughed. "I love that for you."

She leaned back in her chair with a dreamy sigh.

Her ring caught the light every time she moved her hand.

"Okay, so I'm thinking spring wedding. Maybe April. The light in April is insane."

"April is a good month," I said.

"Garden venue. Tented reception in case of rain. Mauve tones, not pink. Mauve, there's a difference. Throw in some pampas grass, you know the look."

I did know the look. I'd executed something similar three times in the past two years.

"Dinner menu, I want something that actually tastes delicious, none of that rubbery chicken that people always complain about but never send back. And the cake has to be lemon elderflower, three tiers. It should scream royal but make it approachable."

"Royal but approachable," I repeated with a smirk on my face. "That's definitely going in my notes."

She pointed at me. "Don't laugh. I'm serious."

"I'm not laughing."

I was smiling though, and it was real.

Allie's happiness was pure and contagious. I was glad she had Mark. She deserved it all…

But somewhere under the table, my hand had found the strap of my bag and wrapped around it.

Allie reached for her glass.

"Oh, and the first dance song. Mark wants something classic, but I told him classic doesn't have to mean boring, so we're negotiating. I think we land somewhere around Stevie Wonder, but I'm not closing the door on anything yet."

I nodded. I was listening.

I was also somewhere else entirely — a different restaurant, a different year, a conversation that had covered the same ground.

Garden or ballroom. Spring or fall. The kind of conversations I had with my ex, Elliot, before everything went crashing down.

I pressed my thumbnail into my palm under the table.

That was a long time ago. I was not going back there tonight.

I glanced at Allie as she set her glass down and looked at me the way she looked at me when she was done being distracted.

"Okay," she said. "Talk."

"I am talking."

"Serena!"

Her eyes lingered on my face.

"What?"

"You've got that thing happening behind your eyes. You've had it since you walked in.

I know you."

She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward.

"I'm fine. Tonight is about you."

"Tonight is about both of us. It's dinner, not a press conference." She held my gaze, patient in the way she'd been patient for months now. Allie never pushed hard. She just waited, and the waiting was worse.

"You never really told me what happened with Elliot. You said it was over, you went back to work, and then you just kept going."

My chest began to tighten.

"You know I'm always here," she said. "I've said it a hundred times, and I'll say it again now. I'm here whenever you're ready."

I looked at her, at this woman who had shown up for me in every way a person can show up, and I felt the tightening in my chest climb toward my throat.

I swallowed it back down.

I reached across and covered her hand with mine. "Al. I know. I know you are." I squeezed once.

"But tonight I want to sit here with you and eat this food. A normal, good night with my best friend who just got engaged."

Allie looked at me for a long moment.

Then she turned her hand over under mine and squeezed back.

"Okay," she said quietly.

I was glad she let it go. I would not have held it together much longer, and a public breakdown in a cocktail lounge on a Friday night would be beyond embarrassing.

"Now tell me about Stevie Wonder," I said.

She laughed. We ordered another round…

And one hour later, we said goodbye in the doorway of the cocktail lounge, wrapped in the kind of hug that lasts a second longer than necessary.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, babe," I said into her shoulder.

"You too, Serena. I want you to be truly happy."

She pulled back, looked at my face once more with those knowing eyes, then kissed my cheek and headed out toward the car Mark had sent for her.

I stood in the doorway and felt the warmth Allie carried leave with her.

I turned toward the host to ask for my blazer while opening Uber on my phone.

Then I paused.

My apartment was quiet and twenty minutes away. I had nothing on my calendar this weekend. I had planned it that way on purpose.

But the hollow feeling in my chest now felt heavier.

I put my phone back in my bag.

I turned around and walked back into the lounge.

On my way in, I passed a table near the entrance. Three men were decked in suits. They were deep in conversation, glasses half full, someone's portfolio deck open on a tablet. I didn't look twice.

The bar section sat apart from the dining room, less lit, with stools along a long marble counter and a row of bottles glowing amber and dark green against the mirrored back wall. The bartender was mid-conversation with a man at the far end.

I found an open stool and settled onto it.

As I set my bag on the counter, the bartender noticed me and started walking in my direction.

I wasn't even thirsty.

What I was, if I was being honest, was tired of carrying this heavy weight in my chest and sober enough to feel all of it. Allie had started the conversation, and I had shut it down before it could open all the way.

The bartender appeared in front of me.

"What can I get you?"

I didn't hesitate.

"Whatever you have that's good and strong."

He nodded, already reaching for a bottle.

I watched the bartender pour and told myself this was fine. A drink alone on a Friday night. Normal. Reasonable. Thousands of people did it.

The glass appeared in front of me.

I wrapped my hand around it and took the first sip.