The party calmed down once the initial frenzy had passed.

Only a dozen or so couples remained on the dance floor, colourful dresses and dark suits moving in rhythm with the music.

John knew this calmness wouldn’t last. As soon as the bride and groom finished talking with the rest of the guests, the party would liven up once again. Meanwhile, he’d stay at the bar, nursing his second glass of bourbon.

As he raised his glass to his lips, he heard his name and turned around to see a woman in a simple yet beautiful dress staring straight at him.

“Hello, Emma,” John said with a smile.

“It’s been a while,” she replied with a smile of her own. He missed seeing them.

“We don’t get a chance to see each other as often anymore.” John set down the glass down and took a good look at her.

Emma wore a silver, sleeveless dress which accentuated every part of her body while remaining within the boundaries of good taste. Not that he’d tell her that.

“It’s still a shame that it took the wedding of our best friend for us to see each other.” She walked towards the bar, sitting on the stool next to him, and asked the bartender for a drink.

“The wedding could’ve happened sooner, but you know Anne. She had to wait for a perfect proposal.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “Should’ve done it herself.”

“You have no sense of romance,” she deadpanned before accepting the martini from the bartender.

“The ceremony was beautiful, though, I’ll give them that. And the open bar was a great idea.”
 
Emma’s soft laugh was a nice reaction, it’d been some time since he last heard her laugh.

A memory flashed through his mind. He saw the much younger faces of his friends and himself at a wedding much like this one, cheering and laughing without a care in the world.

“You know, it seems like it was yesterday when Anne and you were fighting over the bouquet in your aunt’s wedding.”

“Which wedding?” she replied, and it was his turn to laugh.

A few seconds later, though, their amusement died down. John looked into the amber liquid before taking another swig while Emma traced the edge of her cup with her finger.

“I didn’t see you at the bouquet toss,” John said, immediately regretting not finishing his drink in silence.

Emma regarded him with a look of annoyance, but before he could take back his words, she spoke, “I don’t see the point right now…”

Her words lingered in the air, weighing him down with the burden of words left unsaid. As they had many times before, three words dancing on the tip of his tongue, almost pushing themselves to come out. He washed them down with the rest of his bourbon.

Before either of them could say anything else, the band started on another piece: a lively waltz which they both recognised.

Their eyes met, and in them he found that same shimmering he found the first time he looked at her. Part of him wanted to believe he saw them glint with a light of expectancy.

She bit her lip before she downed what was left of her martini and looked at him once more.

“Hey, John.”

For a moment gone too fast for his liking, he saw in her eyes the young girl he met and hit it off during his freshman year in college.

“Would you like to dance?”

Doubt crossed her face for a second, but that was enough. He saw in her the girl who cried for nights on end. The girl who could never bring himself to hate him, and would always give him another chance.

Emma must have seen something similar in his face, for the small smile she had mustered dissipated into a frown. “It’s never going to be the same, is it?” She said, and despite her calm tone, he knew she felt disappointed.

“No,” John said, the words feeling like gravel as they came out of his throat, “And they probably never will.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

Those three words once again threatened to come out, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Goodbye, John.”

He watched her walk away, when those three words finally escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, Emma,” John whispered before ordering his next bourbon.