Page 72 of The Replay

"Hear, hear!" Bear exclaims.

Saint gives Ames a quick kiss. "I hope you enjoy every second of it, Divina."

"That's very sweet," Mariana whispers at my side.

It doesn't sound like she's talking to me, as much as just thinking out loud. Saint and Ames sit in one of the sofas nearest to the screen, and the video starts playing. An instrumental melody fills the space, with different shots of Ames and food introducing the show.

Saint brings Ames close to him with an arm around her shoulders, and gives her a kiss on the temple.

"Yeah," I say in the same tone. "They're very sweet together."

The opening credits end, and Ames grins wide to the camera from behind a working countertop. She introduces herself and the show, but it's hard to listen when everyone is applauding and whooping in encouragement.

We're still applauding when Mariana adds more. "Amazing how they fit five sofas in this space."

We keep our voices low. Her ample hips cushion against mine, with her thick thighs parallel to mine. Our arms press together, and I lift the one next to her and put it on the back of the couch. It could be a move, if I wanted her closer, but I push it back so I don't touch her. Lest she thinks I'm trying the same thing Saint just did with Ames. I'm not. I'm just trying to make space for us.

"I think it works," I say. "Even if it's a squeeze up here on the terrace. No one seems to mind."

"No. Look at them." She smirks. "They're all cuddling."

She's right. Every single couple on the terrace is touching in some way, leaning toward each other, exuding affection. Meanwhile, Mariana and I keep as much of a respectful distance as we can manage in the tight space.

"Your presence on the screen is lovely," Evie says to Ames. "I feel like I'm sitting right there with you cooking."

"You're stealing every shot, Ames," Mariana exclaims.

My couch partner keeps a perfect position on her side. Her hands rest on her lap, glass between her fingers. It pushes her breasts together, and I shouldn't be looking, but the gooseflesh breaking on her skin draws my eyes despite myself.

In another life, I could lend her the heat of my body. I could have brought her close, nuzzled into her hair, and asked her if she wanted my sweater. None of that can happen tonight.

"Do you want a blanket?" I ask.

If she covers herself I don't have to see her cold, or have this need to fix it coursing through me.

"No, I'll be fine." Her volume is only for me again. "Thanks."

I want to insist, but I don't. She knows what she needs, and I need to stop trying to step in and take care of her. It's been a long time since I had that privilege, and I promised I'd stop. Elevator and video call slip ups notwithstanding. I'm in the process of letting go.

Like the universe conspires to make me think of love while I have Mariana within reach, Ames talks about it in her show. On the screen, words of connection and bonding call us in. In my mind, I have to block them. The part that could engage with it hid from me as soon as Mariana was gone, and even more so after that call, never to be found again. Like without this woman sitting by my side, there's no point in attempting any of that. Convinced that Mariana is the only one who holds the key into that part of my heart.

Fuck. I'm slipping.

We're doing that a lot, aren't we? Slipping.

She said that to me only a few days ago.

I gaze out the transparent sections on the tent and watch the rain fall on the city. Shit, I'm being a bad friend. I'm more focused on how to survive Mariana's proximity and what it's doing to me, than on my friend's brand new show. It'sjust… seeing my friends gaze at their person with devotion triggers a wave of loneliness I did not expect. It courses through me like the tides, and I'm not sure how to swim in it.

I interlock my fingers behind my head and sigh. Pain and longing direct the emotional stage inside of me. When I loved Mariana, this feeling was unknown to me. But it blooms now, full of spikes and overwhelming, when she leans a little closer to me.

My heart beats fast. In another world, she did it on purpose. In another timeline, I bring her to me and put my arm around her. I kiss the crown of her hair, with the same ease my friends kiss their partners.

Worst of all is that I'd be happy to just hold her hand.

Enough. It's fine. I'm just in my feelings because I'm getting such a quiet look at my friends and the person they love. And maybe having quick sex with Mariana brought back the good things we used to have together. It shouldn't be that big of a deal. Just because she watches the show with a wistful look that echoes the emotions in my chest, and her profile makes my breath hitch, and I'm missing her while she sits next to me, it doesn't mean we can rewind and replay what we had.

This pain is just a sliver of what the heartbreak was like, when she left and then when she hung up on me. If I'm not careful, I'm bound to end up back there a third time.