“It sounds so silly now, but I thought a few months wouldn’t be that big of a deal, since we promised we’d spend the rest of our lives together.”

My heart sinks. I almost want to stop Celeste from telling the rest of her story. But I don’t, because I need to hear this. I need to hear her side of what happened eight years ago.

“When things finally got better around April,” Celeste continues, “I felt weird replying to messages you’d left me months ago on KakaoTalk. So I tried to DM you on Instagram instead, but I discovered you’d blocked me. I reached out to Kayla, and that’s how I found out about you and James. It… absolutely broke me.”

Tears spring to her eyes, as if the memory alone is too much to bear.

My gut twists. Every excruciating emotion ranging from sadness to remorse rushes inside me.

All things considered, I don’t regret jumping into a relationship with James. I wouldn’t be who I am—where I am—without the choices I made in the last eight years. If I hadn’t moved up to San Francisco, I would have never met Val or Kiara, two friends I can’t even imagine my life without now. I would have never met Evelyn or any of my coworkers at Horizon. But I do wish things between Celeste and me hadn’t happened the way they did.

I regret hurting the person that was once the love of my life.

“I’m so sorry, Celeste,” I reply, because that’s the only thing I manage to say out loud. It’s my turn to drink.

“Hey, everyone, we’re the Irish Fighters!” announces the Dave Grohl look-alike onstage. “We’re usually a Foo Fighters cover band, but in the spirit of the holiday season, we’ll be bringing you some good ole holiday music, along with some crowd favorites that you’ll probably recognize. So, sing along, be jolly, and get drunk! Happy holidays!”

Cheers erupt from all around us. Celeste wipes away her tears and relaxes her shoulders. She looks visibly grateful for the distraction.

I also try to relax and take another sip of my beer.

“Are we good now?” Celeste asks when the people around us settle down. Her gaze is softer now, even though it’s still a little tense. “Or at least, good enough for us to work together? I don’t know about you, but to me, it sounds like we both fucked up. I mean, our frontal lobes hadn’t even fully developed yet, so I guess it’s not surprising. I’m willing to put the past behind us if you are, since I know this project is important for both you and me. I’d hate for what happened eight years ago to get in the way of it.”