“… like at your wedding, Cassie.”

Double-take and back to my hosts… and the nicely-laid table Clarissa had arranged for my welcome-home dinner. “Come again?”

“The snowball fight we had outside the church?”

I remembered the snowball fight. I didn’t remember Clarissa at my wedding though. Was she even invited?

She clasped her hands together. “I loved your wedding. It was so romantic, like in The Notebook.”

I choked on the beer I’d just gulped down. I coughed again while tapping my chest. Clarissa handed me another napkin, a dry one, to clean my chin. Classy! I doubt the girls spat beer on themselves in any of those mushy stories.

“Your gran used to love that book, remember?” That was Woodie asking.

“That she did.” And I used to pretend I hated it by sticking my fingers in my mouth and fake puking. It used to drive Gran up the wall, me and my un-ladylike manners.

“More cheesecake?” Clarissa asked. The curls of her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders. She was slimmer than she used to be… with the exception of her boobs, of course. To tell the truth, I’d always been a tiny bit jealous of her breasts. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone.

“Yes, thank you. I’m impressed you made it yourself.” I handed her my empty plate for another helping. What was it with all those women with crazy good baking skills?

I got my very generous slice of cheesecake.

“She woke up before dawn this morning to make it.” Woodie covered Clarissa’s hand with his, his eyes brimming with puppy love. “In case it didn’t work and she had to start again. She’s practiced baking that cake so many times I’ve gained twenty pounds.”

Had I missed something over the last six years when I drove past her and ignored Clarissa? Had she been holding out a hand to me all this time? Totally possible. I’d had my head so far up my own ass, chewing on self-pity, I’d seen nobody. Not even my best friend falling in love with a girl I was supposed to hate forever and ever.

Back in high school, Clarissa had practiced giving blow-jobs the same way she baked cheesecakes today: By virtue of repetition. Whatever she’d done then, the only one who’d been hurt had been her. At least, I’d hoped so! What I’d done right at that time, lying and taking life-changing decisions away from Josh, had hurt so many more people in much deeper ways, it couldn’t compare.

Was Josh right? Was I making the same mistakes all over again?

The question filled my mouth with a bitter taste that spoiled my appetite for the cheesecake. Later on, Woodie offered to walk me back to my half-dead Chevy. I was about to step on the porch of the small house my best friend had built on the edge of his parents’ farm, when I spun around nearly bumping into his bulky chest. Clarissa was already busy tidying the table.

“Clarissa, I’m happy—” I stammered, “I’m happy for the two of you, happy you found each other.”

She froze mid-way through carefully folding a napkin. Her mouth shaped into a weak smile and I swear tears twinkled in her eyes.

“Thank you, Cassie. It means so much to me that you approve of me being with Woodie.”

“I know, and I’m sorry it took me so long to understand.” Or to care.

“Better late than never,” Woodie threw that out as a joke, but I saw the satisfied smile he was trying to hide.

We walked back to my truck and he opened the door to the driver’s seat for me. “So Cassandra O’Malley is gonna live in Washington D.C?” he asked, playing up the last words. “No Nashville, no touring, no music anymore?”

“No music for now.”

“No regrets?”

I was about to answer “None whatsoever,” but I caught myself. “I’m not giving up, I’m only postponing.” The last days had turned me into a parrot, repeating the same shit over and over again. Was I trying to convince myself or what? “I can still write songs though.” And I told him about Sweet Second.

“That’s awesome, Cass. I’m impressed.”

I was proud of that song, but I had serious doubts I’d get to sing it on stage ever again, let alone in a recording studio. “So I guess the next time I see you will be on your Big Day?”

“Something like that… I’ve something to ask you.” Woodie started shuffling the dust on the yard. “I know Clarissa wasn’t the girl you’d like me to end up married to. She went a bit wild in high school … She screwed up—”

My hand flew to Woodie’s buffed-up forearm “I screwed up far worse than Clarissa. All the ugly things I said about her over the years, I should swallow them back like a nest of vipers. I had no right to treat her like I did.”

Woodie patted my hand. “That’s real nice to hear. That’s why maybe you could, I mean, if you can come to Steep Hill with all the things happening with Lucas, maybe you know—”

“Spit it out, Woodie!”

“Would you be my best man?”

I gasped.

“I mean, my best girl, or whatever you call it.”

I forced my chin to move back up again. “I didn’t expect—I mean, I’ve been so horrible and selfish to you and Clarissa. Are you sure you want me—you know, at my wedding you were—”

“Spit it out, Cassie!”

“Well, you were Josh’s best man so I’d understand if you asked him to be yours.”

“Josh and I, we were best friends in high school, but high school was a long time ago. We’ve done a lot of growing up, since then, you and me, so I want you to be the one standing next to me when I say ‘I do.’”

I felt my eyebrows arch and Woodie started to backpedal. “Obviously, you won’t be the one standing next to me, right next to me, Clarissa will be, but you’ll be on the other side.”

“I get it, Wood.” I squeezed his arm. “I’d be honored.”

I kissed his chubby cheek. I hoped he’d keep looking like the cutest teddy bear I’d ever seen.

“I’ll let you get back to your fiancée.” I hopped inside my truck and landed on a spring that was sticking up from the bench seat. Ouch! My Chevy was a danger even to my butt.

Woodie laid his hand on the frame of the opened window of the truck and leaned against it. “Clarissa thought Lucas could be a ring bearer. Maybe you’ll have him back before Christmas?”

I clasped my hands tighter over the steering wheel. “Maybe.”

Woodie stepped back and I switched on the engine. I shouted a silent ‘Thank you’ when it started. I waved at my friend and shifted the truck into reverse. I was half way down the driveway when I popped my head out of the window and shouted, “Wood, cut the sleigh!”

The sound of his laughter warmed my heart on the drive back to the farm. I forced myself to focus on the road ahead of me because my mind kept running away with images of Josh, Lucas and me at Woodie’s wedding. It was getting all kind of syrupy.

I drove past Josh’s family house. It hadn’t changed over the years: freshly-painted with a deck made for lazy, star-gazing nights. It wasn’t the same in all the meaningful ways it used to be though. There wasn’t a family living there anymore, just a divorced woman alone. Jack MacBride had never been the devoted father and husband he made himself out to be in front of the whole town.

Without planning it, I turned the Chevy into the alleyway. I could see the light filtering though the curtains of the living room. I stopped the truck and the creaking of the brakes echoed throughout the silence outside. If anyone was already asleep, well, they were awake now. Guilt shifted away when Josh mom’s light figure stepped out from the shadows on the porch.

I gathered all my courage and got out of the truck. The coming conversation was long overdue.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

In a couple of strides I was locked in Miranda’s arms, breathing in her familiar scent of sweet tea.

With my head snuggled in the hollow of her neck, I mumbled. “I should have come and talked to you as soon as I came back two days ago. I should have come and talked to you so long ago. I was ashamed. I was a coward—”