Page 64 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
ME: I wasn’t being mean. Didn’t you see my smiley emoticon?
PAX: With you, Tabs, that could mean about anything.
ME: True. LOL.
PAX: As long as I’m being inappropriate in texting you, I’m going one step further—
ME: I would expect nothing less.
PAX: And say you are going to make a helluva beautiful bride, babe.
ME: Thank you, Pax. That means a lot.
PAX: Also, G expects me to be his plus-one at your wedding, unless he finds someone prettier. Which won’t happen. So just a heads-up, I’ll be there.
ME: You okay with that?
The three dots appear, then go away. Appear and go away two more times before he responds.
PAX: There’s a part of me that will never be okay seeing you with someone else. I’m not going to lie. But all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. If he makes you happy, I’m good with that.
That stops me. It’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting he might still have feelings for me. Not that we’ve spoken much over the years or anything. I know that there’s a part of me that will always love Pax, I can’t help it. The feelings will always be there. And to know that he just wants me to be happy is huge. Like we’ve reached that point where we don’t just want to hurt one another. Where we actually want there to be good where the other is concerned. That’s a big step. Because, of course, I only want what’s best for him as well.
PAX: The minute that’s not the case, he’ll have to answer to me. Deal?
ME: Deal.
PAX: Take care, Tabs.
ME: You too, Pax.
I set my phone aside and reflect on our conversation just now as well as what happened during the filming ofKeeping Tabs. I’m not stupid, there’s a part of me that knows we completely allowed the producers to interfere with and manipulate our reactions to one another. And I’m sure that’s a big part of what led to the divorce. Was I reallythatupset about a fictitious zombie fight? Probably not.
But if there is one thing that was always consistent in my relationship with Pax, it was my inability to control my emotions. I couldn’t hold anything in. If I felt it, I expressed it. In some ways, that’s incredibly freeing. And in other ways, it’s self-destructive. That flailing feeling that happens when you aren’t able to keep a tight lid on yourself and your emotions. Do I feel more in control of my life and myself with Hunter? Absolutely.
I wonder what it will be like to have Pax in attendance when Hunter and I marry. Will I feel weird? Self-conscious? Will we dance at the reception? If so, will it remind me that he and I never had a reception dance of our own? It’s hard when feelings from the past start to mess with your head in the present. Part of you knows that they have no bearing on your life now—that’s the intellectual part. But the emotional part gets confused, because feelings are just that.
My phone dings again and I wonder if it’s Pax.
But it’s Angela, letting me know that everything is set and she’s excited too.
And see, there goes the emotional part, getting confused. I have no right or reason to wonder if it’s Pax texting me. He has no reason to text me, I have no reason to expect it. No good can come of it. It’s destructive, to both myself and my relationship with Hunter. It’s just because we are fighting today and I feel insecure about it. There’s no other reason to feel comforted by Pax’s words.
No other reason at all.
18
Pax
“All I’m saying is, you got me roped into attending this wedding, which is what got me roped into going to this bachelor party tonight. So, you are going with me to both. Unless I find a nice date to the wedding. Then I’ll gladly dump your ass for someone prettier.”
“Dude, I do not want to go to Nipplecock’s bachelor party. Can you imagine how completely dull it’s going to be? And then, if it’s not dull and he does something disrespectful toward Tabatha, it’s going to piss me off. I can’t win, man.”
Gregor shrugs in response.
We approach the second hole beer table and get our glasses filled, drinking it while we wait for the guys in front of us to finish. I’m doing some sort of charity golf game with him and each hole has a different craft beer with a beautiful girl serving it. It’s my kind of golfing because if I play shitty—which I will—I can blame it on the beer. I golf about as well as a I bowl. Unfortunately, so does Gregor. In fact, come to think of it, I don’t know of a sport that he’snotgood at.
“Hey.” I hit him on his big-ass bicep to get his attention. He turns to me, and I continue, “Is there a sport you can’t play?”
