One of my reviewers for Chapter 24 mentioned that the chapter made her think of a Dar Williams song called "My Friends". I have to agree – it really is a perfect song to set the tone for Jack's interactions with his friends in Seattle. It's on the blog, and is even more appropriate, I think, for Chapter 25, which I now leave with you.

-o-

Jack

When Edward and Jasper arrive for dinner, Jasper immediately sets the salad he's carrying on the counter and pulls me into his arms. For a long time he doesn't release me, and I find myself smirking over his shoulder at Edward, who is watching him with an indulgent half-smile. Even when Jasper releases my body, he holds my face in his hands. "Jack," he murmurs, his face filled with compassion. "I'm so glad you decided to come home after all."

"Thanks, Jay," I tell him. "I'm glad too. But remind me to talk to you later about your decision-making process when it comes to giving your assistant time off." He shrugs before to the equally unrepentant Kathleen, who raises her hand to high-five him. "You two are a force of nature," I add.

Edward steps forward to grasp my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jack. But it's good to see you," he tells me earnestly. I thank him with just a nod and a weak smile, and a slightly awkward silence follows.

Naturally, it's broken by Kathleen, the eternal hostess. "Well, Jasper, let's get this stuff put together and we can all chat over dinner," she suggests, before turning to Ashton. "Hon, you want to start the barbecue?"

The conversation during dinner is very light, consisting mainly of catching up on the things that have been going on with our friends since I left, as well as telling them what life is like in Chicago. I mention Mike and how, despite getting off to a rocky start, he has become a good friend. Kathleen and Jasper relate the latest in their ongoing adventures with an especially obtuse individual they work with, and even I find myself joining in the laughter around the table. Several times I find one of my friends watching me, assessing – not Kathleen, because she really already knows where my head is – but particularly Edward and Jasper, and yes, Ashton too. I know there are more conversations to be had with him – with all of them – before the weekend is over; especially knowing how important it is to draw Ashton back in, reassure him that he will always be the first best friend I made as an adult.

Even after we've finished eating and Edward and Ashton have cleared the dishes – at least getting them as far as the sink – we remain sitting at the table, drinking wine and picking at a light dessert of fresh fruit. It is now that our conversation becomes serious, and I broach the subject myself. "So...I guess you're wondering what happened."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Jack," Edward says, hastily adding, "Of course, we're here to listen if you do."

"I know you are," I tell him gratefully. "I know I haven't really been open about it...it's hard when I'm so far away...and god, I'm sick of having serious conversations over the telephone." I rub my eyes wearily, realizing the truth of my words only as they form on my lips. "Sorry; I do love you guys, and I know I haven't been a good friend to any of you since I moved."

"Well, we're all in one room now," Jasper reminds me, in a voice so soft it's almost a whisper. "Do you want to tell us?"

I look around the table at the loving and sympathetic faces of my friends, and begin. I start at the very beginning, when I met Jacey in Austin in October; meeting up with him in Chicago in January; the visit in March and Karl and the arrangement and even the fucking jade tendril. I don't tell them about bottoming because, well, there are limits; and I just don't discuss my sex life, not even with the people I'm closest to in the world. Nevertheless, I see Edward eyeing me with what I can only call a speculative look, and it reminds me of the circumstances under which he and Jasper first got together (unfortunately, not all my friends have the same filter when it comes to talking about their own sex lives. And by friends, I mean Jasper). I have observed that Edward is very astute in that way, and I can't help wondering if, knowing I'm a top, he's figured out that I bottomed for the first time and that it was for Jacey.

However, he says nothing about it, certainly knowing I wouldn't confirm or deny it; asking a question like that isn't his style, anyway.

Continuing to tell my friends about my relationship with Jacey, I move on to my trip to Austin. I notice Ashton's face darken slightly when I mention Mike. "Mike went with you to Austin?" he asks. Though he fights to keep his voice steady and casual, I can see something akin to envy in his eyes.

"No," I reply. "He got sent by his work at the last minute, for a conference. It was a complete coincidence that he was there at all, let alone the same weekend." I move on, telling them about the moments when Jacey's mood would shift, when he said as he was falling asleep that he didn't deserve me, and the night he got upset with me before we went to the club. I suppose it's odd that it's been two weeks since he left me and this is the first time I've actually talked through the whole process; I haven't even had these conversations with myself, because looking back has been so painful. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, it's all very clear: he was already involved. It doesn't matter that, in my head, I already knew this. This moment is the first time I've really allowed my heart to feel the impact - that when I was loving him in Austin, part of his heart was somewhere else.

I pour a third glass of wine, ignoring the glances my friends exchange with each other, before I tell them about the conversation I had with Jacey the next day. I can see the looks of shock on their faces as I tell them that, while Jacey was begging me to be more open with him, he was hiding an emotional involvement with someone else. Ashton's hand, resting on the table, tightens into a clench; Kathleen covers it with her own until he relaxes.

I openly admit to them my own contribution to our downfall, declining an exclusive relationship with him. I can see by their expressions they agree that I should have grabbed on with both hands when I had the chance. "But Jack," Kathleen adds, "you were honest about your reason for not wanting to be exclusive, and it was only for sex. Jacey was looking for a license to continue a physical relationship with someone to whom he was forming – or already had formed – an emotional attachment."

"I know," I nod miserably. "I wasn't honest, though, about wanting him to come to Chicago for the summer. I did want him to, but I thought it'd be too hard to let him go back to Austin when it was over. If I'd asked him to live with me for the summer, he never would have met..." I stop, suddenly sick to death of having to refer to him as "the guy". "Fuck!" I huff in frustration. "I don't even know his name." I rest my elbows on the surface of the table and bury my face in my hands. I hear the sound of my empty wine glass being taken away, and though I expect it to return with a refill, it is instead a glass with water that appears before me.

"And that was pretty much it till he showed up at your door a couple weeks ago, right?" Kathleen, already knowing this part, gently attempts to ease the story-telling process for me.

"Yeah," I mumble. "And then, the next day...told me he loves me, but that he's in love with another guy, that the other guy asked him to be exclusive and that he said yes. Oh, uh...that was after he'd asked me the night before to make love to him."

There is just no way to relate that that makes it sound less horrible than it is. The silence that ensues is pure shock, and in spite of everything, it makes me cringe a bit. I know the people who love me are now forming an extremely harsh opinion of Jacey, one that they might not have held if it was just a matter of a breakup. I find myself very torn about that night with Jacey, the last night I made love to him. Intellectually I know that it was wrong of him to come see me with the intention of ending our relationship, but sleep with me before he told me. If he'd first told me and then asked for one last night together, I think I might have said yes, and I might not have regretted it too much later on. Then again, I might have said no outright, if I'd allowed myself to think about the fact that we would be cheating on the new guy in his life. There's no way to know for sure, now, what would have happened. By not telling me the truth, he took away my choice; and I'm struggling with feeling angry with him for that, versus being glad we had one last night together and it was such a beautiful one.

My friends don't seem to face the same struggle. "He slept with you...knowing he was going to break up with you afterward...?" Jasper repeats, incredulous. I simply nod, my hands still covering my eyes.

"And told him he loved him as he was breaking up with him," Ashton adds, still stuck on this point from our earlier conversation.

Between the flight, the fact that my body is two hours ahead of everyone else, the wine and the sheer stress of trying to keep my shit together during the past two weeks, my emotional control is threadbare. I'm simply unable to hold it back anymore. Behind my hands, tears well in my eyes. When they spill over and make an appearance low on my face, my friends suddenly break out of their inertia, spontaneously moving closer to surround and comfort me. Jasper on one side, Kathleen on the other, they each put an arm over my shoulders; Ashton reaches in front of Kath to tuck a facial tissue into my hand; Edward gets up from his chair across the table and coming around to put his hand on my shoulder. In this safe atmosphere, I let the emotions wash from me as freely as I did the afternoon after Jacey left my apartment.

When the storm has passed, when I'm calm again and my friends have mostly retreated to their own places, Kathleen says quietly, "You need to talk to him."

Jasper turns to her, aghast, and is about to protest when Kathleen cuts him off. "Let me explain. When he broke up with you, he told you what he needed to say. Did you say the things you wanted to say? Did you even have time to really think, to formulate any real questions, before he was out the door?"

"No," I admit. "I asked him...about his flight, I think. I did ask him if his new boyfriend knew Jacey was going to sleep with me."

"Good for you," Edward finally speaks up. "What did he say?"

I close my eyes against the unpleasantness of the memory. "He didn't, actually. He started to cry. I took that as a no."

"Fucker," Jasper exclaims. I'm not surprised at his outburst; he's an emotional guy. I am surprised – though perhaps I shouldn't be – at the reaction from my other friends.

Edward says, "Kas, don't," at the same time as Ashton murmurs, "Easy, now." Jasper looks with surprise at both of them, before Ashton explains. "You're talking about someone Jack loves," he reminds Jasper kindly.

Chastened, Jasper looks down at the table. I shoot Ashton a grateful glance before I lean into Jasper. "I understand," I whisper. "Thank you." He meets my eyes, abashed but relieved.

"Anyway," Kathleen continues, "I believe you need closure, Jackie. Maybe you're not ready to do it yet, but I think it's important – vital, even – for you to get some answers. Find out why he did it and why he didn't tell you. Learn the guy's name, for Pete's sake. You deserve that. It's the only way you'll be able to move on."

What she says makes sense, only...

"If I do that – talk to him and get closure – then it'll really be over," I admit helplessly.

"Yeah," is her reply; and though her tone is kind, the meaning is clear: it is over.

"Or," Ashton adds, "maybe you'll find out that he regrets ending it with you, that he wants you back."

I can't even allow myself to hope that could be the case. Rather than replying to Ashton, I simply reach for my glass of water and down it in several long swallows. Setting it down, I change the subject. "You know what...it's been a long day. I'm wiped out."

"Of course, Jackie," Kath replies. "It's ten o'clock, and you're two hours ahead."

"Yeah. Plus I slept on the couch last night, because there was a woman in my bed."

"There is so much wrong with that sentence," Ashton mutters.

"Sounds like a perfectly healthy response to me." Edward grins at Jasper, extending his hand to him. "Let's go home and check our bed for women, Kas. We might have to sleep on the couch."

-o-

The next day dawns sunny and warm, as promised by the weather forecast. I have an hour or so by myself before Kathleen and Ash get up, and I spend it with a coffee and the newspaper. By the time they're up and we've all had breakfast and are ready for the day, it's close to eleven.

As Kathleen mentioned yesterday, they've planned a trip to Golden Gardens, a park on the west side of the peninsula, on Puget Sound. On a day like today – when it's actually warm and sunny – it will be busy, loaded with people taking advantage of the summer weather. The wind blows steadily there, so there are always people sailing and kite-surfing. Kite-surfing is a sport Ashton has taken up, already being a surfer. As I enjoy surfing too – having been taught by Ashton, the summer after our freshman year in college – he wants me to try kite-surfing today. I have to chuckle that the first time this summer I'll be at a beach is in Seattle, of all places - one of the rainiest places in the country.

We get to the beach around noon and find that Rachel, Luke and Liz are just taking their stuff out of the back of Luke's car. Parking near them, we pull out our cooler and beach gear, and together we walk to the beach and find a place to set up. Shortly after we have our towels and blankets spread out, claiming our patch of beach, Kath's cell phone rings. It's Lily, calling to say that they aren't going to make it till later this afternoon. They're going to wait until after Sarah's nap, then join us for dinner and the evening bonfire. Edward and Jasper will be along later as well. Edward's sister Alice has organized a charity event for the private children's services agency where she works; and they're both volunteering at it today.

The afternoon is relaxed and pleasant, with enough people in our group that I don't feel like anyone is really focused on me. I try out kite-surfing, which is a challenge; but once I get the hang of it and find myself racing across the surface of the water, I find it exhilarating. When I finally come back to the beach and flop down on my towel, my legs and arms feel like jelly. I'm in good shape, but holding them in a near-constant state of contraction for a couple hours is brutal. I'll be sore as hell tomorrow; but I've enjoyed it so much that I don't regret it at all.

As I catch my breath and let the sun's rays warm me, Rachel, beside me, sets her book aside and stretches out. Lying on her stomach as I am, her eyes are directly opposite mine, and we chuckle at each other for a moment before she opens an easy, relaxed conversation between us. Only once does she allude to my failed relationship, asking me if I'm okay. I answer her honestly – that I'm not quite, yet, but I will be – and after a sympathetic smile, she leaves it at that. I'm a little sorry we've never gotten to know each other better, because I find her so easy to be around. When her boyfriend Luke collapses on the other side of her, dripping wet, her attention is diverted; but I enjoy listening to them parry back and forth. They have similar personalities and are both in industries where creativity is vital, but their jobs have them approaching creativity from opposite directions - Luke is an art critic and Rachel is a chef. I don't know Luke well, since he started hanging around with us just last fall, when Edward and he struck up a friendship. That friendship led to him and Rachel being introduced, and it was very soon after that we became aware they were an item. I can see he and Rachel have a good relationship and both thrive on challenging each other.

By the time the rest of our friends join us, we're about to start the barbecue. Liz and I volunteer to grill the hamburgers and veggie burgers; and it gives me a chance to find out how she's doing. Liz is very low-key, the most relaxed person I've ever met outside California. She has been through a series of short-lived relationships since I've met her – and they seem to suit her very well. She doesn't do monogamy, and is open with her partners about it; and she seems to thrive in that lifestyle. I know for a fact that she's never had an acrimonious breakup; somehow her former partners all have only good things to say about her.

As we cook the food, she asks me if I went to Chicago's Pride parade; and it isn't until she mentions it that I remember that it was to take place last weekend. I didn't think of it at all. I admit to her, "I guess I wasn't feeling particularly proud about anything last weekend, Liz."

"Ours was last weekend, too, as you know," she continues after a sympathetic smile. "Rained like a son of a bitch; and half the women there weren't wearing a bra – myself included – and just a tank top or a tight t-shirt. You know their rules about no nudity; but it's not like the organizers could do anything about it – we were wearing clothes." Her eyes glaze over dreamily, and she stares out over Puget Sound as she recalls the sight. "It was a great fuckin' day."

I laugh out loud, and she grins broadly, not a hint of self-consciousness or sheepishness about her. "It's good to hear you laugh, Jack," she smiles, before turning to the nearby spread of blankets, where our friends have set up the rest of dinner. "Hey, everyone else is here," she adds.

"Just in time, too, because these are done," I reply, starting to lift the burgers onto a divided platter.

I greet Gareth and Lily, and try to pry a hello out of Sarah, who refuses to have anything to do with me. Later on, though, when dinner is over and we're sitting around the bonfire, she realizes which side her bread is buttered on. I've brought some vegan marshmallows to toast over the coals. Sarah has an uncanny knack for showing up beside me just as I'm about to pull the golden-brown cube-shaped confections off the skewer. Her parents don't allow her too many of them, but the fact that I've shared seems to be enough to put me in her good books – at the very least it earns me a broad smile from the little girl who has her mom's crazy array of dark curls and her dad's blue eyes.

When I'm not toasting marshmallows for the toddler set, I enjoy simply listening to my friends' conversations around the fire; I join in here and there, but mostly I relax. Far from my initial reservations that I wouldn't be much fun in a group, instead I find my spirits lifted by them. It's been months since I was among a large group of people who have more than a passing acquaintance with me, and it just feels good.

Settled back into a deep chair, I don't realize my eyes have closed until I feel a hand on my arm. "Hey, sleepyhead." I open my eyes to find Kathleen bending over me. "Looks like you're ready for bed."

"Can always count on Jack for a wild night," Rachel says dryly. "Vegan marshmallows and asleep before ten."

"Hey, I didn't see you out there kite-surfing today, princess," I retort. "I imagine that trashy romance novel you were so engrossed in was top quality, too." Our repartee sets off a small flurry of teasing insults being volleyed around the group like a beach ball, and I lean over to Rachel and whisper, "Now see what you've done?"

"Yeah," she grins. "I should have brought popcorn."

-o-

Sunday is a quiet day, and Ashton and I spend it together. We don't do a great deal, as both of us are a bit sore from yesterday's kite-surfing. Kathleen is in and out of the house throughout the day and I have the sense that she's purposely letting us have 'alone time'. Here and there Ash asks me a question, things I can tell he's been working up to asking since they're of a personal nature. I find myself answering them with very little hesitation; and I realize that, for the first time in years, my relationship with Ashton is free of regret. I don't have to edit what I'm going to say to make sure I don't accidentally spill the beans on how I feel about him. The effortless quality of our friendship has returned; and any weirdness that could have lingered after our serious talk the other night, hasn't, to my very great relief.

We watch a baseball game in the afternoon – Red Sox at the Mariners – then the three of us go out for dinner at a restaurant at Pike's Place. After dinner, since we aren't far from the main ferry terminal, Kathleen suggests a ride over to Bainbridge Island and back. Since the evening is beautiful and warm, it's a perfect idea. I didn't often have to use the ferries when I lived here, but the view of the city skyline is beautiful, especially looking back at the lights at night.

It's a good day, and I do enjoy spending it with my friends. But that night, when I've gone to bed and the house is dark and quiet, I can no longer ignore the feelings of regret I've been trying to repress since I arrived here. No matter what I do – having dinner out or being at the beach or riding the ferry or just hanging out at Ashton and Kathleen's place – there's always, in the back of my mind, the knowledge that Jacey should have been here for this. I thought I'd be showing him all the things I love about Seattle; I thought he'd be meeting my friends and, I hoped, forming the basis for lifelong friendships with them. Before the breakup I let myself imagine these things; I could see them so clearly.

As I toss and turn, I consider Kathleen's suggestion about getting in touch with Jacey. I want to – I'm almost desperate to talk to him, in fact – but I'm so torn. Should I let him see how devastated I've been? If I let him see it, would it change anything? And if, as Ashton suggested, Jacey did decide he wanted me back...do I want him back?

The fact is, I am not just sad, and I'm not just missing Jacey and grieving for our relationship. I'm hurt. I'm angry, too, but mostly hurt. Jacey betrayed me. He made a major omission when he told me he'd slept with someone from camp, because he was also developing feelings for that person. In combination with his pleas for me to be open with him, omitting the truth of his other relationship became a blatant lie. I can't believe he embarked upon that dalliance with the intent to fall in love; he's still Jacey, and everything I've knew about Jacey until he broke up with me tells me that he is something who would always have the best intentions. All the same, I can't ignore how badly he dealt with it, not talking to me about it at all until it was a crisis, one that he decided had to spell the end of our relationship.

I love him; but to use his own words, Is love enough? Isn't a relationship more than just love? I'm new to relationships and even I know that's true. A relationship can't sustain itself without complete trust, and the trust I had in Jacey was shattered along with my heart. If he told me tomorrow that things were over with the guy, my heart's instinct would be to wrap him up in my arms gratefully. In my head, though, I know it'd be a mistake to simply allow him to return to his former place in my heart, no questions asked.

My thoughts chase themselves round and round my brain for an hour or more. Even as I consider it, all the while I know this: although it's good to prepare myself to respond to whatever might come up in a conversation with Jacey, the entire line of thinking is likely pointless. He made his choice; I have no reason to think he has reconsidered. I'm most likely to find awkwardness and a reluctance to talk to me, as I intrude on his new life. I'll probably have to persevere in asking my questions; in fact, I will need to write them down beforehand, in case I become flustered once I start to talk to him. No matter what his reaction, though, I recognize the wisdom in Kathleen's advice: if I don't do this, I'll drive myself nuts obsessing about it.

My decision made, the next step is to set a deadline to call him; if I don't, I'll procrastinate endlessly. I know he's off this weekend; if he's kept the same schedule he arranged for our trip, he doesn't have to return to camp till Tuesday night – he was to have flown back to Austin Tuesday morning if he was here with me. Tuesday is too soon for me, though; I believe my flight back to Chicago would be a good period of quiet and relative solitude during which I can think about what I want to say to him. He'll be at camp for for the next week and a half; but now that I know he has had at least enough time in the evenings to, you know, fall in love, I'm less inclined to believe that he wouldn't be able to talk to me some evening. I'll send him an email Wednesday night with a request to call me when he has a few hours' break – he must get one once in a while. It wouldn't hurt, I reflect, to tell him why I want to talk to him: that I have a few things I need to say; to get closure; that I deserve that much. Appealing to the conscience I know he has, should at least get him to call me.

By the time I've worked through it enough to be able to let my mind rest, it's after midnight. Fortunately, tomorrow is the Fourth of July and the biggest thing on my agenda is the Cullens' barbecue, followed by fireworks. I'm looking forward to the nighttime display; and I do not drift off to sleep thinking of how I'd pictured kissing Jacey till the light that danced before his eyes rivalled the dazzling eruptions in the skies overhead.

No, I do not.