Chapter Twenty-Four

July 2013

Fourth of July was never one of Mandy's favorite holidays. It came in the middle of the summer, it was always too hot, there was really never much to do before fireworks went off, and even after that, it was just over. It seemed like a silly reason for people to get together and barbecue. They could've done that any day.

This year Mandy was stuck at an event with a bunch of Edmund's coworkers. They didn't have to work, and yet they chose to spend the day together talking about work. Yep. Mandy just did not get Fourth of July parties at all.

June gloom had lasted a little longer, and while the sun did its job making Mandy sweat, the haze of the day hadn't completely burned off yet, giving a little protection from the sun's rays. The venue was lovely, near the water with a view of the marina, where they would all board a boat later to watch fireworks. Until then, however, a large fountain sat in the middle of the courtyard and, with an occasional breeze, blew cool droplets in Mandy's direction. If it wouldn't have elicited stares, she considered for a moment taking off her heels and soaking her feet. She couldn't believe she allowed Edmund to talk her into such footwear to begin with.

"They make your legs look amazing," he had said that morning when Mandy was getting dressed. It felt as though she hadn't seen him for weeks, with his late hours at the office and early mornings in the gym, so the compliment hit much harder than it normally might have. "Plus, I need to make a good impression, and you're an extension of me." And then he kissed her neck in that special place that made her knees weak, so she complied with his request.

Now, as she leaned against a high-top table under a billowing blue canopy, she regretted that decision. Where was Edmund? He had gone to get them drinks a while ago and hadn't come back yet. She didn't want to leave and miss him, and she didn't really know anyone well enough to feel comfortable wandering around on her own. Even in her summer dress, Mandy felt woefully underdressed. Most of the women donned either linen pantsuits or pencil skirts. It was Fourth of July, and a party, and it was like a million degrees out, but only Mandy seemed to be uncomfortably aware of each of these factors.

"Who schedules a work party on a holiday?" A man who didn't get the dress-much-too-formally-for-an-outdoor-summer-event memo sidled up to the high-top Mandy leaned on and set his sweating beer can down. "Oh, sorry. Do you mind?" He gestured to the table.

"No. It's fine." Mandy shifted from one foot to the other.

"You don't work for Hartsfield Baldwin, do you?" the man asked. His tan skin glistened in the summer sun. His khaki shorts and light blue polo looked freshly pressed. And he was tall, taller than Edmund, but just as fit. Likely a swimmer, with the way his body narrowed at his hips, but he was broad across the shoulders.

"I don't," Mandy confirmed.

"Yeah, you look way too normal…I mean that in a good way. Like down to earth, not…" As if on cue, a trio walked past the table, two men and a woman wearing navy suits. "I'm sweating my balls off in this. Sorry." He pushed his sun-lightened brown hair off his forehead.

Mandy chuckled. "It's fine. I'm sweating my tits off."

"Exactly." The man raised his beer to cheers with Mandy. "No drink?"

"I was waiting—"

"Excuse me." The man raised his arm and a waiter scurried over. "We need some cold drinks over here. Can you help us?"

"Of course. What can I get for you?" the waiter, who looked just as uncomfortable in black slacks and a white button-up, asked. Did Hartsfield Baldwin ask for them to dress so formally, or was that their normal uniform?

The man turned to Mandy, and then so did the waiter. What the hell. It was a party, after all. "Pi?a colada."

"Make it two," the man said. "Good choice." He nodded at Mandy as the waiter rushed off.

"It sounds refreshing," Mandy said. "And if you can't go on vacation…"

"Let the vacation come to you. I like it." He chugged the last of his beer, crushed the can in his hand, and set it down. "I'm Khalan, by the way."

"Amanda." She stuck out a hand. Edmund preferred she used her full name—said it sounded more professional—and she didn't want to fight about it.

Khalan shook it. "Well, Amanda. What brings a girl like you to an event like this?"

"I'm here with Edmund Prince. Or I came with him, but I have no idea where he went."

Khalan nodded like this made sense. "Making his rounds, I'm sure. But he'll be back soon."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch." Khalan shrugged, but the way he did it made Mandy sense there was more to it. Like maybe he knew Edmund rather well.

The waiter came back and placed two pi?a coladas on the table—each a lovely pale yellow with a slice of pineapple perched on the rims of the glasses.

"To sweating our balls and tits off." Khalan raised his glass, and Mandy clicked hers against it. The sweet blended drink immediately seemed to cool her down by ten degrees as soon as it hit her lips. It really was like a vacation in her mouth.

"Oh, that's good," he said.

"So good," Mandy confirmed.

"So besides knowing how to pick the perfect beverage, what is it that you do?"

Mandy took another sip, and before she could answer, Edmund appeared just as Khalan had suggested he would.

"Keeping my girl company, are you?" Edmund clapped a hand on Khalan's shoulder. It was the type of gesture Mandy was never sure the meaning of. Was it friendly or a subtle way for men to try to assert their dominance over each other? Either way, it always seemed rather ridiculous.

Khalan took a relaxed sip of his cocktail. "Well, someone has to since it seems you left her out here to fend for herself."

While it was annoying they were talking like she wasn't there, it was nice that someone stood up for Mandy. She had been lonely, and hot, and thirsty, and Edmund returned without the beverage he had set out for. "Yes, Khalan was nice enough to order me this." Mandy raised her glass in a remember-you-were-supposed-to-get-me-some-kind-of-refreshment? way.

Edmund flinched—which momentarily made Mandy think he felt bad for forgetting about her, but then he said, "That was very kind of you, Mr. Jain."

Now that Mandy looked at him, Khalan did seem a little older than Edmund perhaps, but not by much. Why did Edmund address him so formally? What was Mandy missing?

"No reason to thank me. Without Amanda here, this party was seeming rather dull."

Edmund grinned like he was in on a secret. "She does know how to have a good time."

Thankfully neither seemed to glance in Mandy's direction. Her cheeks blazed hotter than the day's rising temperatures. She took a big swallow of her cocktail to cool them down.

"She was just about to tell me what it is she does when she isn't at work functions on a national holiday."

"Right now, I'm consulting for a marketing firm, but really I'm an artist—"

"What Amanda means is that her job allows great artistic freedom. She can do things on the computer I've never seen before. You know that billboard off Thirty-Second? That's her work."

On one hand it felt like Edmund was bragging about Mandy's work, and yet on the other, it felt like he was ashamed of her. Why mention the billboard but not that she was also a painter—even if it had been a while since she'd picked up a brush—that her passion was on the canvas, not on the computer?

Khalan chuckled heartily. "Oh, that's a good one."

"Thank you," was all Mandy could muster. Her gut twisted tighter than a package of dried ramen. The ad campaign was getting attention, sure, and it wasn't that she looked down on those who did that type of work, but for her it was just a means to an end—a way to support her true passion. And the way people talked about the billboard like it was some great accomplishment, when in reality it was just an ad for shitty yogurt. There weren't many people that could claim "artist" as a profession, and Mandy hadn't given up on the idea completely. Not that she was naive, she was just hopeful, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Edmund then brought the conversation back to work. He constantly talked about work. Why not, just for one day—even with all his coworkers around—talk about something else? Wasn't this event supposed to be fun? Wasn't it about "getting to know each other" or whatever it said on the invitation?

Khalan looked as disappointed as Mandy felt by the shift of conversation. Maybe Edmund didn't realize Khalan didn't want to be talking about work on his day off. Edmund was clearly attempting to make a good impression and failing miserably at it. But this was what Mandy was there for, right? To make sure Edmund looked good to important people. That was why she was in those god-awfully uncomfortable heels, right? Khalan seemed to be looking for his escape, when Mandy touched his arm.

"You know what would go great with these?" She held up her drink. "Hot wings."

Edmund chuckled nervously, but Khalan smiled.

"But, like, really hot ones…" he said.

"The kind that make your nose run," Mandy finished.

"Exactly." Khalan took another drink of his cocktail.

"I think there are chicken skewers." Edmund shifted his attention to the hors d'oeuvres table that had a large fountain of cheese with crackers and fruit that sat under glass domes. There had been a few waiters who passed by with trays, but by the time they got to Mandy's table, they were mostly empty.

"It's not the same," Mandy said.

"I'll go see what I can rustle up." Khalan grabbed his cocktail and excused himself.

He had barely gotten out of earshot when Edmund wrapped his hand around Mandy's arm. "You're embarrassing me. Mr. Jain doesn't care about hot wings." He released her arm, but the place he had held her pulsed.

"No, Khalan didn't want to talk about portfolios. I was trying to save you there."

"Well, do me a favor and don't do me any more favors. I have to work with these people. And they don't want to see you shoving your face full of messy chicken wings." Edmund was stressed, that's why he was being a complete ass, but it didn't make it okay.

"Oh, I won't." Mandy grabbed her purse and took off her shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving. God knows I wouldn't want to embarrass you more."

"And you think leaving in the middle of my work party is making a good impression?"

"Tell them I had a graphic design emergency. Tell them whatever you want. I don't care." She slammed the rest of her cocktail and walked away before Edmund could say anything else.

She hadn't wanted to come to this party to begin with, but she had. For Edmund. Because she was always doing things for Edmund. Mandy didn't even know where she was going or how she would get there. She had driven with Edmund because he liked his car more than hers, but she had to get away. She was hot, and hungry, and damn it, she wanted some chicken wings.

Being this close to the water had its perks. First, she stopped in the yacht club's shop and bought a pair of overpriced flip-flops and a bottle of ice-cold water. They were worth every penny if it meant she didn't have to wear her heels anymore, and the water refreshed her in a way even the pi?a colada couldn't. Part of her still felt a teeny-tiny bit bad for leaving Edmund, but it wasn't enough to make her go back. So Mandy did what she always did in situations like this.

She pulled out her cell.

The cantina was surprisingly busy, but Mandy found a seat at the bar and ordered a margarita on the rocks with extra salt, and something called Mexican egg rolls. They weren't spicy chicken wings, but they were fried and sounded as ridiculous as Edmund made her feel for wanting them, which was perfect for Mandy.

There was something about crunchy chips and spicy salsa that soothed Mandy's soul. It wasn't the chilaquiles Isa's mom or Abuela would make when she had been feeling down, but it had the same kind of effect with the banda music playing softly over the chatter of other patrons. Chips and salsa had been one of the only Mexican foods Mandy could find in Europe when she'd sought the same kind of consoling she needed today.

Those days seemed so long ago now. Days she had to get through without Isa. Where everything was new and yet it all still seemed to remind Mandy of her.

And just like that, Isa was there.

"What's going on?" she asked as she pulled up a stool next to Mandy and helped herself to some chips. "What are those?"

"They're called Mexican egg rolls."

Isa cocked a brow, just the one, her way of saying WTF without having to say it. "Sounds disgusting." She picked one up and took a bite.

The bartender made their way over and placed a napkin down in front of Isa. "What can I get you?"

Isa pointed to Mandy's cocktail. "One of those, and another order of these." She pointed to the egg rolls.

"Coming up." The bartender walked away.

Mandy shook her head and smiled.

"What? I'm going to need to eat like five more to make any kind of decision about them." She popped the rest of the egg roll into her mouth.

"They're weird, right?"

"So weird," Isa said around a mouthful.

The bartender made their way back with Isa's margarita and another basket of chips.

Mandy picked up her glass. "Fuck the Fourth of July."

"Fuck it." Isa clicked her glass against Mandy's.

Thank god Isa was there. She had come home for an impromptu visit before starting her residency back on the East Coast. If she ended up getting a job out there, Mandy didn't know what she would do. It had taken time, but Isa was back in her life, a part of her world, and she never wanted to be estranged from her best friend again—one out of ten, would not recommend. It was hard enough with her being so far away and their hangouts done over the phone. From time to time, they would both put on their sweats and baseball hats and go out running errands on the phone together—they would call it an "ugly day," and if anyone tried to talk to either of them, the trick was to pretend they didn't know them. But when Isa was in town, things were so much easier. And their "ugly days" could be spent on the couch, or tucked into the corner of some café, or out together—while they ignored everyone else.

Mandy's phone chimed. She already knew who it was but checked it anyway.

Edmund: I'm sorry. I was a dick. Let me make it up to you.

It was better than the ones he sent before, but Mandy was still upset, so she switched the phone off and shoved it into her purse.

"You want to talk about it, or you want to drink?" Isa asked, nibbling on her second egg roll.

"Drink now, talk later."

And that's what they did. The conversation stayed light and casual as they each sipped their oversized margaritas and ended up sharing an order of fajitas. It was the kind of meal that wasn't anything special, and yet that was what made it perfect.

"All I'm saying is that Sophie would disagree with you." Mandy popped the last part of her egg roll into her mouth. They had really grown on her, especially after the second margarita.

"What's there to disagree with? I wear them on my legs. They are the definition of pants." Isa held up her leg, showing off her leggings. "Plus, they're more comfortable than jeans, and bonus, if I fall asleep in them, that's okay too."

It was nice that Mandy could bring up Sophie without having it be a thing. Without worrying that it reminded Isa of why they broke up. Plus, Isa would really like Sophie. One day they should all hang out together.

"Feel them." Isa grabbed Mandy's hand and put it on her thigh.

"Oh, that is soft."

"Exactly."

"But…if you can sleep in them, doesn't that make them pajamas?"

"I sleep in T-shirts, and that doesn't mean I can't wear them out in public." Isa had a point, and Mandy could admit the pants looked really cute on Isa. (Or was that the margarita talking?) Mandy needed to stop thinking about Isa's body right now—with the alcohol, her mind was slipping into dangerous places.

"You win. Leggings are pants. Next subject." Mandy grabbed her ice water and took a long swig.

Isa narrowed her eyes at Mandy, but then her look morphed into satisfaction. "Organic tampons. Are you using them?"

Mandy almost spit out her water—not at the absurdity but just at how funny the question caught her off guard. "Do you always think about vaginas?"

"Every day." Isa was specializing in obstetrics.

"I just grab whatever's on sale." Mandy shrugged.

"Amanda!"

"Marisa!"

"Have I taught you nothing?"

"You've taught me a lot of things." More things than Mandy ever wanted to know, actually. "I promise to do better."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"I expect nothing less."

As Mandy sat there atop that barstool, licking salt from her fingers, she realized she didn't need fancy parties at yacht clubs, or canapés or petits fours, and she definitely didn't need parties where she had to wear heels, and get dressed up just to impress a bunch of people who would likely forget her name by tomorrow anyway. She was utterly content with flip-flops and fried appetizers you ate with your fingers, and just being herself.

Had she ever truly been herself with Edmund? Did he even know who she was?

They had dated for so long, Mandy could barely remember a time without him, but were those memories from before better than anything in her present? When was the last time she fell asleep on the couch and stayed there all night, leaving the bowl of ice cream she'd just eaten on the coffee table, where it got all dried and petrified by morning? Or the last time she didn't wash her hair for an entire week because she had spent so much time working on her art?

She needed to do that again. Well, not the not-washing-her-hair-for-a-week thing. But paint. Get so wrapped up in her projects that the world around her would fade away. Mandy needed to remember who she was.

"Let's get out of here," Mandy announced to Isa, then motioned to the bartender for their check.

One thing about the Fourth of July was that many places were closed, but that didn't matter so much, because art was everywhere if you knew where to look. Mandy and Isa took a drive to one of their favorite beachside locations, where an enormous amount of chalk art could always be found. The holiday did make parking more challenging, but luckily being extra familiar with the area helped. And while the number of people who were out that day was more than usual, the number of artists scratching away on the concrete did not disappoint.

Some guys banged on their drums—or banged on things meant to be drums—but the sound was amazing. They were creating music with everyday items—buckets, cans, even a two-liter bottle full of beans—just like the people on the ground were making art with their hands.

"Dance with me." Isa pulled Mandy aside and threw her hands in the air. Dance like no one was watching—that had been their thing, something they hadn't done in far too long. Hell, Mandy couldn't remember the last time they had danced. And even though there were plenty of people watching, it didn't matter.

She grabbed Isa's hands, and they spun in circles, throwing their heads back and laughing. Mandy hadn't laughed that hard in a really long time. They likely looked ridiculous, but it didn't matter. Their charisma must've been contagious, because soon a nice crowd had joined in on the fun.

Sweat trickled down Mandy's face, but this was exactly what she needed. To let loose and have fun. To refill her creative well. To reignite her passion. She wasn't just the girl who made the pretty ads; Mandy was an artist. She had a point of view. She had something to say. And while maybe her voice had been quieted over the past couple of years, it wasn't gone.

And with Isa by her side, Mandy felt inspired for the first time in a long time.

She almost felt like she could take on the world. Almost.

After pulling Isa off the impromptu dance floor, they wandered down the path next to the beach as skateboarders, rollerbladers, and bicyclists passed by.

"He said that I was embarrassing him." Mandy was finally ready to talk about it. "He left me all alone, and this guy started talking to me. What was I supposed to do, ignore him? How was I supposed to know he was like the boss or something?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. That's the thing. It was a perfectly normal conversation. I mentioned chicken wings, and Edmund's head practically exploded."

Isa stifled a laugh. "Sorry. I mean, could you imagine Edmund eating a chicken wing? With his fingers?"

Okay, that image was funny. Edmund would likely try to use a knife and fork if he attempted to eat one at all. "It's just, why does it matter if I eat chicken wings, or talk about eating chicken wings?"

"It doesn't."

"Sometimes I wonder if Edmund even knows me at all." Mandy had never said those words out loud before.

"Well, have you shown him who you are?"

"Are you saying it's my fault?"

"No, that's not it. You just always do this thing where you lose yourself in every relationship you've had. You become a different person." Isa was right, and Mandy hated to admit that. The only time she had ever been 100 percent herself was with Isa—that is, until the very end, and well, look how great that turned out.

Mandy stopped in front of a bench and sat, exhausted from either walking or the conversation, she wasn't sure. "I don't mean to."

"I know you don't," Isa said, but did she really mean it? Mandy never told her about why things went down between them the way they did. Isa had stopped asking, but it was unlikely she forgot—Mandy still thought about it all the time. "It's just, maybe it's time to be the real you. And if he doesn't love that, love you for who you are, then at least you'll know."

It sounded so simple. So why did it feel so impossible? If things didn't work out with Edmund, then what? Where would that leave her? Just a girl with another failed relationship. Mandy was so tired of that. Tired of dating. Tired of trying people on to see if they were the right fit. People weren't shoes. Shouldn't people bend a little for each other? Mandy never meant to change who she was for the person she was with. It always started innocently enough. She just wanted to make them happy. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? But was she the only one? Were they not trying to make her happy in return? Was that where the problem lay?

Why did it feel like no one would be able to love Mandy just the way she was?

Well, there was one person.

She took Isa's hand. Maybe to ground herself. Maybe to try to get that feeling back that they once had so long ago. When they used to hold hands and tell each other all their secrets and kiss when Abuela wasn't looking. And while Mandy's hand felt so at home in Isa's, it wasn't the same. Mandy had ruined that, and there was no hope she'd ever get it back.

Her gaze shifted from their hands up to Isa's face. Isa stared back. Was she thinking the same thing? Could Isa have been trying to tell Mandy this whole time it was her she should be with? Mandy glanced at Isa's lips and leaned in ever so slightly.

"No," was all Isa said, and she let go of Mandy's hand—but Mandy understood what she was really saying. No, it will never happen with us again. No, I can't ever trust you with my heart. No, you are ruining everything. No. No. No.

I'm sorry were the words Mandy wanted to say, but she was tired of saying them, and they wouldn't make a difference. She'd gone and fucked things up again. Just when they were okay. Mandy was surprised Isa didn't get up and leave, but Isa was her ride, and no matter how mad she was at Mandy, Isa would never abandon her—never do what Mandy did.

The air between them shifted—from a comfortable silence to tense and thick. Part of Mandy wanted to leave, but the other had a sick feeling this would be the last time Isa and she would be alone again, so Mandy didn't move even when a hollow emptiness filled her insides and she started to tremble—was it from the breeze coming off the water? Or maybe her trembling was something else entirely.

With the sun now hidden beyond the horizon, fireworks lit up the sky with a distant boom .

"Ooooh…" Isa cooed next to her. She always did love fireworks.

Mandy settled in. They weren't in the best position to see the show, but it wasn't bad either. Silently they watched as the sky filled with smoke and colors erupted against the dark backdrop.

All too soon after the finale and Isa and Mandy had gone their separate ways, Mandy slid into bed next to Edmund.

"Baby…" He rolled over smelling of whatever he had been drinking, and started kissing Mandy's neck. "I'm sorry. I was such an ass. I promise I won't do it again."

She could stop him. She could tell him everything she was feeling. But he was drunk and saying all the right things, and the bed was warm, and Mandy didn't want to be alone, so she let him run his hand under her nightshirt and then much lower.