Chapter 25 – Ghosts

New York – Two weeks before wedding

“Nothing fancy,” he said into the phone. “No, we don't have time for anything like that. All I need is a simple cake...”

Lance's phone beeped at him to tell him he was running low on battery. He pulled it away from his ear and the battery icon blinked red at ten percent.

“I have to go...seriously, nothing fancy. Put the order in and that's it.”

He quickly hung up the phone before the girl on the other end could protest and try to sell him an even more expensive and time-consuming cake. He had already resisted the urge during the fifteen-minute phone call to stomp his foot and yell 'I just want a cake' at her.

He sighed and threw the phone down on the table, rolling his neck and then pressing the heels of his palms against his temples. He wasn't the kind of typical guy that didn't want anything to do with planning a wedding and let the woman do everything. He didn't take over everything but he was a hands-on guy and liked to know what was going on. He liked to think he had planned enough of a wedding before, even though it never happened, to know what he was doing.

For this particular wedding, however, he could say with confidence that he'd had enough of wedding planning. Every step of the way, it seemed he encountered a fight from someone – and usually it was over the deadline. It was almost as if there was no one left in the world that tried to plan a wedding in three weeks.

That's because you're the only one, moron, he told himself. When Stephanie had asked him why, in a slightly less-friendly way, he couldn't even give her an answer. “I don't know” was all he could say to her.

It wasn't good enough for her, and it hadn't been good enough for any of his other friends either. Most of his friends, especially the ones that had met Adeline, were finding excuses not to come to the wedding. Mackenzie had thought it would be a nice gesture to ask his two best female friends to be her bridesmaids.

I'll be busy that day, was all Jamie-Lynn's text response read. Joanna had gotten a little gutsier and had stood up to him instead. I won't be bridesmaid and I won't be attending. I'm protesting.

Joey's response was the one that hurt the most. He had asked his best friend to be his best man, as he had always intended to do.

I won't be your best man until you stop being a huge jackass.

He knew it hurt Joey to say that at least as much as it hurt Lance to hear it – after all, it was Joey. They had been best friends for years. They would do anything for one another. But apparently, even Joey had a line he wouldn't cross.

He knew they were right. Mackenzie was wrong for him; he had realized that in the year that they had been apart. As much as they didn't like his first ridiculous answer, he assumed they wouldn't accept the only other answer he had – that settling for second best was better than pining for something he could never have.

She had texted him earlier that day. He had been in the middle of scouring the phone book to start another day of finalizing things for the wedding when his phone had buzzed. He assumed it was his mom, or one of his friends sending another of their daily messages telling him he was making a stupid mistake. So when he picked it up and saw her name, he wasn't sure he was reading it right.

Congrats.

The single word might as well have pierced him straight through his heart. He took a breath before he started typing.

Thanks.

He sat the phone down and waited for his phone to buzz again. He hoped she would send another message back, maybe a you're welcome, and he could steel himself to ask her how she was doing. It didn't seem like enough time had passed to have the uncomfortable conversation you have with an ex when you see them, maybe in a grocery store or the coffee shop, and you asked them how they were doing. They usually responded by telling you they were fine and returning the favor. After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable exchange, someone always asked if the other was dating someone.

It had crossed his mind. He couldn't help but wonder what she had done after she went back to Los Angeles. He wondered if she had gone through with filing for divorce like she had planned. Maybe she had gone back and patched her life with her husband up. Maybe she hadn't and she was busy going out and meeting new men – new men that weren't him.

The thought drove him crazy. Crazy enough that the minute it had crossed his mind while thinking about her in that coffee shop, he almost bolted out the door without paying and drove straight to the airport. Then the thought had crossed his mind that he was being a bit obsessive, so he paid for his coffee and left.

He had realized he was also being hypocritical. He had been the first to make the move in that complicated chess game of the breakup. He was the jerk who was planning to get married, had gotten engaged only a week after he and Adeline had broken up. So far, Adeline had not come running back to beg him not to.

And she wasn't going to. He waited forever, and his phone didn't buzz again. He checked to see if it had ran out of battery and died before she sent it – but it was still on, despite the red blinking battery icon. There was no new message.

And that was why he wasn't going back. She had moved on, like he thought. He had broken her heart and his face would be the last one she would want to see.

That didn't stop her face from haunting every moment of his day.

“Dinner...is served,” he said, walking tiredly through the living room and setting the bag of take-out food on the coffee table before taking off his coat. “This has been a horrible day.”

He collapsed into the couch next to Adeline, and she leaned up from her seat to take a peek inside the bag. She sat her book beside her on the arm rest.

“Chinese again?” she asked with a smile.

“It was down the street,” he responded. “I really didn't want to go very far. I wanted to come home.”

“What happened?” she asked.

He sighed. “They turned down my idea.”

She clicked her tongue. “I'm so sorry.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. It was only an idea for a new kids' show that he was pitching to a friend's production company. It shouldn't have been a big deal, but he had spent so long on the idea and it had been so long since he had done something productive with his career, he couldn't help but feel like he had added another failure to his list.

“It was only an idea,” he said. “Another will come along. Hopefully a better one.”

“Well I have something that might make you feel better,” she said.

He watched her get up from the couch and walk into his kitchen and grab a bag from beside her purse. He smiled watching her smile as she removed the thin case from the bag.

“Movie night,” she said, handing him the DVD case.

“Paranormal Activity,” he said, smiling and raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“I could list all the reasons,” he said, “but it's only a 24-hour rental. We don't have time.”

“Oh ha ha,” she said, turning up her nose. “You think I can't handle a scary movie?”

“You're so jumpy that sometimes you can't handle the toaster in the morning.”

“You, sir, underestimate me,” she said, taking the case from his hands roughly.

He rolled his eyes in amusement as she put the movie in his DVD player. She came to sit with him and as he pressed the play button on the remote, she relaxed into him.

“Forget about them,” she said. She readjusted his arm so it was wrapped around her shoulders. “You have me now.”

A neighbor's door slamming from down the hall knocked him out of his daze with such force that he felt himself physically jump.

The flashbacks had been coming frequently. Whenever he let his mind wander, it was like she was back in his apartment – but it was only a ghost version of her, one that he couldn't touch.

He realized that the flashback version of him was a ghost as well. He could feel every emotion that he had once felt, but he couldn't go back and change anything that had happened in the past. He was only the onlooker, reliving every good moment they had ever shared together, only to drive home how much he was suffering without her.

“This is good,” she said, lifting the chopsticks full of noodles to her mouth to take another bite.

“Best in town, I think,” he said.

As she was about to put the food in her mouth, he leaned his head in to eat them off her utensils.

“Hey!” she yelled as he chewed. “You're stealing my food, jerk!”

He tried to keep from laughing as he finished chewing, looking at her betrayed facial expression.

“You're such an ass.” She dropped the empty chopsticks back into the takeout container and put it back on the table in front of them. “Just for that, I'm stealing your beef.”

When he made a choking noise, she looked back at him, seeing a smile on his face.

“What?”

“If Joey were here,” he said, struggling to keep from laughing, “there would be a dirty joke to gleam from that.”

She rolled her eyes as she picked up another container. “Pervert.”

“Yeah, but...you still love me,” he said as she leaned back into him.

They each finished the rest of their food in almost silence, finally getting interested in the movie. It was about three-quarters of the way into it before he realized it. She had gone from gently resting her head on his shoulder to shielding her eyes from the scariest parts with it. She had a tight grasp on his arm with both of her hands. He looked down at her to laugh at her frightened expression, but he saw something else.

He had come home in a horrible mood, and while she was hardly trying, she had almost instantly turned it around for him. Simply laying here with her on the couch, eating take-out, and watching a movie had turned his night around – and he wanted it every night from now on.

And that had been the exact moment he had realized that he wanted to marry her. He had no idea at what point it shifted for her – maybe it was that night, maybe it didn't happen until later, or maybe she had always felt that way.

Before he knew it, he had pulled out a bottle of vodka that he hadn't touched in weeks, in hopes it would help him get through the rest of the wedding plans he had to make that day. He didn't drink a lot, even when he went out with his friends. Being drunk wasn't a feeling he liked; he hated being a stumbling mess, making a fool out of himself, and saying things and not remembering them. But tonight was something he didn't want to remember.

At some point after a few hours and several shots, he picked up the phone and made two phone calls. But the plan to call around for a caterer had slipped away from him when he realized that he was alone in his bedroom, sitting on the floor against the wall with the bottle that he hadn't taken another drink out of for several minutes, with the phone to his ear.

“Hey, it's Addy,” her voice said.

He didn't even wait for the beep before he started talking.

“God, your voice,” he said, suddenly losing whatever self-control he had before he had dialed the numbers. “I haven't heard your voice in over a week.”

He paused, hearing nothing on the other end.

“Addy, I'm drunk right now – I think – but this is the first time I've had the guts to call you in...I don't know how long. I don't even know what to say right now. You're here and I'm there and...who let me have my cell phone while I was drinking?”

He took a deep breath to compose himself, already realizing that tomorrow when she opened her voicemail, she would hear this and he would look like an even bigger idiot. Maybe that was what he needed her to see – that he was as big of an idiot as he thought he was.

“You're there and I'm here,” he said, correcting his mistake carefully. “I wish you were in front of me, so I could say all of this to your face. I don't do this – I don't call girls drunk and spill my guts to their voicemail like this. And I don't cry – look at me, I'm crying.”

He chuckled at himself while wiping away a tear with his shirt sleeve.

“You can't look at me, I forgot. It feels like you can. It feels like you're always here, reminding me of what I was so stupid to let walk out of my life. I'm so stupid, Addy. It hurts.”

It was then that the alcohol took over. He was thankful that Mackenzie was out of town and none of his friends were at his apartment to see him, that he was completely alone when he burst into tears. Simply admitting out loud how bad it had been hurting him was enough.

“It hurts so bad and I'll never get over watching you walk out of my apartment the way you did,” he said. He wasn't even sure she would be able to understand what he was saying. “I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, sitting here with a bottle of vodka like some drunk that has completely lost himself.”

And that was exactly what he had managed to do – he had lost himself, even worse than he had lost himself over a year ago when another woman had walked out of his life. He didn't remember that hurting this bad.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I love you. I just had to tell you one more time...”

He would have gone on, but the phone was taken from his hand gently before an arm wrapped around his back.

“Come on,” Joey said quietly as he lifted him up off the floor and pressed the button on the phone to disconnect the call. He expected Lance to be able to stand on his own two feet, but quickly realized he was too far gone, so he held him steady with one arm while the other took the bottle from his hands and set it on the dresser.

His long-time friend didn't utter a word asking how he'd gotten in his apartment or when he had shown up. Instead, he simply collapsed into his shoulder and continued crying. It might have made Joey uncomfortable if the two of them hadn't been such good friends and if he didn't know that Lance was way past drunk. Joey had known that a moment like this was going to come eventually – he just had no idea that it would hit Lance this hard and would involve liquor and a badly planned phone call to Adeline.

Joey stood with Lance, letting him have his moment. When he got tired of standing, he helped him sit down on the bed. Eventually he stopped, and Joey remained quiet while he tried to gather his composure in a drunken stupor.

“The other guys never hear about any of this,” Lance finally said quietly.

“Not a single word,” Joey responded.