Caleb and I sat in separate rows—too far to chat without relocating—during our flight from Hong Kong to Vancouver. It was a bummer, as my mind rebelled against the contented solo life vibes I'd amassed over the past two years. Time abroad had offered pleasant distractions from my home drama, but as we crossed the Pacific, the weight of my actions returned. My departure from Canada to Asia hadn't been without its collateral damage. Namely my ex, Trevor.

Trevor was a good guy and a catch for the right person. Unfortunately, I was the wrong person, although I loved him back then. If you're looking for the asshole in the two exes reuniting at a wedding story, it's me. But I hadn't confirmed he'd be attending by reading his message, nor did I want to pay for the in-flight Wi-Fi to do so. So, I may have been freaking out for nothing. However, my brain wouldn't get on board with that idea.

Trevor and I had been friends for longer than we dated. Stuck in the same high school Spanish and French classes, we bonded sophomore year. He was quiet yet easygoing, and while we didn't hang out outside of class, we would partner up for group projects. Since he had a girlfriend who attended another school, it was easy to get along with him without romantic tension.

After graduation, we went our separate ways, but at 23, we ran into each other at the bar. I was celebrating my friend's birthday, and he'd gone with a co-worker who'd already ditched him. Since I'd had a few drinks, I abandoned my friends to run up to him, engulfing him in a teetering hug and squealed, "Trev!" over the loud, remixed pop song.

Classy, I know. Blame the Long Island iced teas.

"Audrey?"

His blue eyes widened as he pulled away and looked me up and down. I'd worn a black top that left my right shoulder exposed, ripped skinny jeans, and a pair of sandal heels that almost got me near average height. The key word being almost.

"Wow, it's good to see you." He smiled.

"You too, Trev. Look at this. You're all grown up!"

I ran my hand along his soft, new-to-me blonde beard. Drunk Audrey had problems respecting people's personal space, but he chuckled instead of pushing me away. Soon, my inebriated mind got the memo to step back.

"I would say the same, but you're still small enough to fold up and put in a suitcase."

I shook my head at the cringy memory threatening to appear. He stood only half a foot taller than me at most. "One video project from Spanish class I'll never live down. What's new with you?"

"I'm still playing hockey, work as window and door installer, and uh, I'm engaged." He spoke the last part with hesitation.

"Oh shit, congratulations."

Way to bring the enthusiasm, Audrey.

He bit his lip and held in a laugh. "Thanks."

My friends who knew Trevor came running from the bar to catch up. Despite being a guy who kept to himself, he was sweet enough to be almost universally well-liked in high school, at least by the people who knew who he was.

After a few minutes, they left to dance, and he and I found ourselves tucked in a quiet vinyl booth, minus the loud music.

"What's it like being engaged?" I asked.

He smiled as he played with his gold ring. "It was amazing when she said yes, and I had all these dreams about the wedding, but..." That smile faded.

As someone who didn't buy into the marriage industry, I waited for his response. "But what?"

He sighed and set his hand on his lap. "She keeps changing her mind about everything. Nothing's good enough—not the venue, the dress, the flowers...." He paused and chewed on his lip. "Honestly, some days I wonder if I'm good enough."

That downcast look of his tugged at my heart. I wasn't sure if other people had mental lists of nice, awesome people who they believed deserved all their dreams in life, but Trevor had a spot on mine. It sucked to hear his fiancée didn't value him.

"You're the best, Trev. She's lucky."

He nodded. "Thanks, Audrey. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"I am single, and I love it. I do what I want, when I want, with whoever I want."

That sounded way more edgy than I was. My statement mainly applied to working, hiking, and going out whenever I pleased. That and not being conflicted about my Sasquatch legs over winter. I supported normalizing body hair for all genders, but after a few months of growth, I second-guessed if it was the right choice for me.

Ice cubes clinked together as Trevor stirred them with the dark straw.

"Is your fiancée your girlfriend from high school?" I asked.

He nodded.

They'd been dating longer than I'd known him. That terrified me, especially since fourteen-year-old Audrey wrote cringy Twilight fanfiction and had a super 'edgy' MySpace page, including awful mirror selfies and emo profile songs changing weekly. Letting her choose my life partner would have been... interesting.

Trevor raised an eyebrow at me. "Why'd you make that face?"

Had I grimaced? I thought that was an internal reaction. I tried to smile. "No reason. Good for you for finding love and sticking with it."

He chuckled as if he didn't buy my well-acted deception. "You don't think it'll last?"

"I'm sure you two will. I'm quite happy both my relationships ended. My choice of dates was... questionable. But I'm not normal. Ask any of my friends."

At 23, I had never had a relationship that lasted longer than nine months. I had a total of two serious ones under my belt.

The problem was that I'd much rather be single than in a relationship with the wrong person. And just about everyone I met was the wrong person. Too clingy, too boring, too creepy, too self-absorbed, too sexual, too pushy, and don't get me started on the shirtless selfie brigade or the 'Hey baby, pics?' on the off moments where I succumbed to online dating.

He chuckled again and sipped his rum and coke before placing it on the low, round, black table. His hand stroked his neatly trimmed beard as he surveyed the club. My friends danced in the crowded centre of the bar. When the birthday girl, Shayne, made eye contact and shot me a thumbs up, almost as a question, I mirrored it. She smiled and returned her focus to grinding on some tall guy in a blue t-shirt.

Trevor seemed to have zoned out, and I contemplated leaving him in peace until his shoulders slumped and he sighed with the heaviness of a gloomy November day.

"You alright?"

"She's worried we've never been with other people." He spun the ring on his finger. "I told her it didn't matter. I'd be happy with her for the rest of my life, and I didn't need more." His gaze rested on the dark, carpeted floor.

I had a sneaking suspicion she didn't echo that sentiment.

"Did you..." I didn't know whether to finish that question. He still wore the ring.

"She cheats on me," he muttered without looking at me.

My skin grew cold. Not cheated, 'cheats' in the present tense. Poor Trev. Instead of telling him the obvious, 'You should leave her,' I offered a confession of my own. "My first boyfriend cheated too. It sucked."

His blue eyes gazed into mine. "I'm sorry, Audrey." He didn't tell me more about his situation, so I word vomited instead.

"It happens. I was nineteen, and he told me about it right after we celebrated my birthday. The night it happened, I was supposed to go to his friend's party, but a few days before, my friends invited me out. It'd been months since I saw them, and he was disappointed I bailed on his plans. Since we'd gotten more serious, it felt like my life had disappeared. He always saw his friends and went to his events. My identity became Paul's girlfriend, not Audrey. We were also kinda having problems." I stopped to take a drink, and the alcohol burned my mouth. "Sorry, you don't want to hear all of this."

"Is it bad I do?" Trev's eyes were fixed on me.

I shook my head. I'd confided in several friends, but once it ended, I didn't bring it up again. "He was intimidated that I wanted to live abroad someday because he didn't want me to go nor did he want to go with me." Time gave me clarity to see he was problematic in that conversation too, but I was still embarrassed by my reaction. "And I know it makes me an asshole, but I saw him as my first boyfriend, not my last. "

Trevor tensed up. "Why?"

Crap, that was the wrong thing to say after his confession about his ex. But Paul and Trevor were quite different.

"He never took much seriously. Like he dropped out of college, loved partying, and worked part-time as at a convenience store with no plans to do more. He wanted to settle down with a family by twenty-one, and I told him that wouldn't be with me because I had to finish school and live my dreams. He'd laugh and say he knew his version was impossible."

It had been a clear sign my dreams didn't involve him, but his involved me, or the version of me he wanted me to be, but I'd been too oblivious to see it.

"Did he cheat after that?"

"No, those were casual conversations. It happened after he shared he worried about me leaving to travel someday, which wouldn't be for over three years, probably more, unless I found a job out there. It hit me that he saw us with a real future, and I didn't. My guilt was so devastating, and I broke down. I only croaked out, 'I don't think I love you.'"

The velvety texture of the couch pillow I'd clutched came back to me when I was so overwhelmed with tears, I could scarcely speak.

"He kept asking, 'Do you think you'll ever love me?' I'd have spared us months of pain had I said no, but I was so invested. He was my best friend and my world, and I wanted so badly to love him."

"Even after he cheated?"

I nodded. "He told me because he felt awful. He said they'd only kissed. I was furious and didn't talk to him for days, but I also missed him. We tried to work through it, but broke up, then got back together only to break up again. I should have walked away much sooner, but I was young, and I'd built my adult identity around being his girlfriend, so without him, it felt like I had and was nothing."

I suspected from the look in his eyes Trev knew what that pain too.

My chest tightened. The relationship had only lasted nine months, yet it made me question so many truths about myself. I doubted anyone would love me as much as Paul did. I questioned whether I needed the life I desired and wondered why I couldn't be happy with the life he wanted for me.

The silence gave Trevor space to open up. "She didn't tell me. My friend saw her leaving some guy's apartment one morning, and they kissed. She told me she'd stayed over at her sister's place."

"That's terrible, Trev. Did you two talk about it?"

He nodded slowly. "That's when she said she was stressed out marrying the only guy she'd ever been with, and she worried she missed out. But she still loved me."

"Is she still seeing other people behind your back?"

He played with his ring. "Not behind my back. I know about them. If I disagreed, she wanted to call off the wedding." He looked like his favourite pet had run into traffic.

"Oh, Trev."

I drew him into a big hug, and he trembled in my arms for a minute. His warm hands grasped my back, and his head rested on my shoulder.

"Will you make out with me?" he asked weakly, without meeting my gaze. This was more of a cry for help than a come-on.

I pulled away from our embrace. "That's not the way out of this. You gotta figure out your relationship, even if it's hard."

His shaking leg shot reverberations through the floor. He clasped his also trembling hands together. His lips were down-turned, and he looked ready to cry. "I don't blame you."

That woman needed to release him from this engagement before it destroyed him or he needed to walk away. But making out with an old friend wasn't walking away. I didn't want that mess for him or myself.

I furrowed my brow. "Why are you still engaged? You could take a break."

"I love her," he muttered.

"I can be here for you as a friend, but no more than that."

With tense shoulders, I waited for an agitated response or blow-off I'd gotten from a few rejected male 'friends' in the past, but it never came. Just a nod of appreciation.

"You deserve better than a life with a person who doesn't value you," I said.

He smiled, radiating genuine warmth. "Thanks."

For the rest of the night, we drank, danced, and chatted with my friends, brightening his spirit. He didn't bring up anything romantic between us again or his fiancée. When he asked for my number, I gave it to him because I sympathized with him. He seemed trapped in a brutal situation and deserved better.

From there, we connected over casual texts as friends a few times a month but didn't hang out in person until his relationship ended. As I suspected, she broke it off instead of him, and he jumped at any opportunity to see her again. My heart shattered for him. His roommate and I encouraged him to let her go. After a few months, he'd made progress.

Our re-introduction sounded like the set-up for a rebound relationship, and he hinted at it, but I rejected the idea, as he needed time alone to figure himself out. A year later, after our friendship bloomed into a closeness I'd never experienced, my romantic attraction followed. He was thoughtful but also let me be myself. We understood each other's pain and promised never to hurt each other like others had.

I suppose I kept my promise because I found a different way to break his heart, making me no better than his ex. My feelings had blossomed into love. But you could love someone and still be wrong for them.

My nose and eyes prickled with tears that I fought to keep inside. Would I ever get to a point where thinking about our break-up wouldn't turn me into a mess?

When I had run to Asia, I'd expected him to cut me out of his life, but he kept in touch for months. Unready to deal with people's advances after moving abroad, I would tell them I had a boyfriend, even if Trev and I weren't together. We talked enough that it almost seemed like we were.

But after three months, I was enjoying my life abroad and had no intention of coming home, no matter my guilt or my lingering love. Trev would ask about my plans, which involved taking more diving courses and visiting new places in Southeast Asia. I invited him to join me, but it wasn't a good time for him. It was also my dream and not his, so I'd never expected him to say yes. Plus, we had broken up.

Our messages grew more infrequent until they stopped. The only way he showed he thought about me until now by was liking my photos.

After taking out my phone, I tried to draft a response to Trevor but couldn't find the right words. The logical reply was: 'Yes, I'm coming for Claire's wedding'.

But that seemed impersonal, given all we'd shared. I was flying home for Claire, not him, and that had to hurt. I could invite him out for a coffee or drink, but the thought of facing him gave me anxiety. An apology might imply I'd changed my mind, and I didn't want to instil false hope and hurt him again. My feelings for him had faded to platonic. Hopefully, two years passing had extinguished his too. Best-case scenario, he'd already moved on.

I sighed and jumped as someone stood beside my chair. 

We've almost touched down in Canada! Still a layover and one more flight to go keeping Audrey and Caleb connected. It's a long journey. 

Any thoughts on Trevor and his past with Audrey? 

I imagine you can probably guess who is standing next to Audrey on the plane :)