34. Grace
thirty-four
“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” Ethan thinks necessary to remind me as we get dressed for the day after a quick shower together. “I have a couple of errands to run, and I want to stop by Mom and Dad”s to say goodbye.” He pulls me to him by my waist. “Tonight is all for you.” His eyes go dark as he leans into me for a long kiss. He pulls my face into his chest after breaking the kiss. “You very busy today?” His voice is raw with emotion.
I’m packed. “A little.” If only I could get cancellations today.
He kisses the crown of my head. “Why don’t you let me get you a proper coffee? What’s today’s gonna be?”
I smile big at him. “A Maple Kiss in the mug with the kittens. Please.”
“You don’t want a new mug?”
I giggle. “You already gave me three. Plus, Millie’ll give you a discount if you bring your own mug.”
“Ah. My Grace is thrifty. Good to know.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze doing all sorts of funny things to my insides as it goes through different emotions, until he blinks the shine out of his eyes. “I’ll meet you at the spa? Let you get started.”
“I’ll try to get out early,” I whisper as he boops me.
“One Maple Kiss, coming right up!” He grabs the mug from its display shelf as he leaves the house.
It’s the mug he personalized in his own hand, and just thinking about it makes me as giddy as a teenager.
It feels good. I’m tired of feeling old and acting reasonable. I know this thing with Ethan is nowhere near my teenage fantasies of a happily ever after, house full of his babies, Ethan’s mouth on my body every morning, but hey—it’s close enough.
It’s better than I had a month ago.
So. Much. Better.
I’ll do what life has taught me to do: accept and adapt.
The spa doesn’t open for another hour, so I start on my admin work right away, hoping Ethan will take a minute to sit with me and have a coffee before going about his day. I’m close to inbox zero when his bike roars faintly outside. Closing my laptop, I greet him at the door.
He jumps up the steps, holding my travel mug and a disposable mug, and whirls me in his free arm as if we haven’t seen each other in forever.
“Hi again, beautiful,” he says against my mouth before kissing me. “Just a quick kiss and I’m out of your hair.”
“I have time for you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
I take his hand. “Come outside. We just need to stay away from the rotten planks.”
He steps to the deck’s damaged area, examining it. “I didn’t realize it was that bad,” he grunts, irritated.
But me? I’m just realizing how sharing the little things, the daily frustrations, makes everything right again. “Yeah, it sucks for the golden girls’ wellness session. I’ll have to move them inside.” Oh well. “Come sit,” I say as I pull two cafe chairs next to each other and sit in one.
Ethan takes the other and throws his arm over my shoulders, pulling me inside his warm frame. He plays with my hair absentmindedly, brushing his fingers against my nape occasionally. “You’d let me know if there was anything I could do to help, right?”
What does he mean? “Yeah, sure.”
“Good,” he says softly, kissing my temple. Then he adds, “What’s that tiny piece of twine?”
“What?” I look around but see nothing.
“In your box. There’s a little plastic pouch and inside, it looks like twine tied in a loop.”
“Oh.” I swing my head to look at him. The distant memory collides with today’s reality. What will he think? Oh—who cares. “It’s a wedding band you made for me. We were playing wedding—Haley’s idea. She’d convinced Justin to play with us, probably bargained something. You came up and declared they didn’t know what they were doing. That Justin wasn’t saying the right words, or that Haley couldn’t marry her brother. I don’t remember the details—I wasn’t paying that much attention until then—until you placed yourself in front of me, looked into my eyes, produced a little ring—it had blue flower buds at the time—took my hand, slipped the ring on it, and said “I thee wed and shall protect you forever and ever.” Then you turned to Justin and told him what he was supposed to say. He refused to repeat it, so you leaned over me, kissed the crown of my head, and said ‘I now pronounce us husband and wife.’ And then you left.” I laugh at the memory, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t think it’s laughable.
“And you kept that ring,” Ethan says, not making fun of me, not even chuckling a little bit. Even I can see how ridiculous it is that I’m holding onto that. Not just the ring, but all the memories associated with that day. The pebble in my sandal poking under my big toe. The fact that Haley was wearing the white dress and not me. The bees buzzing around us. How Justin had decided to prop us on crates for some reason, and I’d stopped internally complaining about the unsteady situation when that brought me closer to Ethan’s height, high enough that I only needed to tilt my head just so to look into his beautiful, soulful, kind eyes.
The way his hands had cupped my head for the briefest moment when he dropped a quick and chaste kiss on my head before leaving to do his big kid stuff with his dad.
“Forget-me-nots” Ethan says, interrupting my daydreaming.
“What?”
“I braided forget-me-nots in the twine.”
My breath halts and my heart kabooms. He remembers? “I wasn’t gonna let you be the maid of honor.” His fingers dig softly into my nape as he brings my mouth to his. He kisses me languidly, the blue of his half-closed eyes shining bright in the morning sun. He shifts my thigh on his legs and cups my breast softly, running the pad of his thumb over my nipple. “I’d better go,” he groans.
Too stunned to talk, I sit with my feelings, unsure what’s happening right now. The door shuts, his bike hums in the distance, and then, after a while, voices inside call me back to reality. To every day. To the present.
After another hour of admin work (writing up a proposal for a bachelorette party, renewing my insurance, answering yet more emails), my first appointment is a massage, and I take that as a good sign. Sign that people are trusting me to bring them deeper wellness.
My client is Wendy, who owns a small hotel in town with her husband. I bring her upstairs, where I’ve put my treatment room toward the back—out of the hubbub of the first floor, with its large lounge area that lends itself to chatter and laughter. It’s still a little bare. I was going to work on the decor before fall, but with a pinch in my heart, I realize it won’t be needed anymore.
Wendy growls as I tackle her shoulders. “Too much pressure?”
She groans an unintelligible answer.
“You’re very tight up there,” I say in a soothing voice. “Try to relax.”
She moans softly, and after a few minutes, snores lightly. Good. She mainly needs time away from it all. I’m halfway through my routine, ready to gently wake her and have her turn around, when excited whooping wafts from downstairs all the way to us. What is going on? I smile to myself. This is exactly what I wanted. A space for women to come and take care of themselves.
As Wendy turns around, I glance out the window overlooking the deck, wondering how long it will be until the deck is repaired. It’d be nice to… What is going on?
Ohmygod.
My mouth gapes.
The three damaged planks are pulled out of the deck and set aside. The deck is turned into a mini woodworking station, complete with trestle, electric saw, and a couple more tools I don’t know the name of. Brand new planks—you can tell by their lighter color—are being cut to size.
By Ethan.
By Ethan on my deck.
Under the brutal sun.
T-shirt clinging to his torso, he maneuvers the new planks as if they were as light as twigs. Brings the first to the gaping space on the deck, adjusts it, measures stuff one last time, and drills it in place. Neat, quick drills. He knows what he’s doing. Standing, he wipes his brow, then—get this—whips his T-shirt off, wipes his face with it, and throws it on the railing.
The whooping downstairs stopped, and I can fill in the silence: disbelief. Hungry glares. How can I blame them?
“Oh my. He should be in the movies. At least some ads for… beer or somethin’. Ya know?” Wendy is standing next to me, wrapped in the sheet.
“Oh—s-sorry.” I clear my throat. “Let’s get that massage finished.”
“Why don’t you bring him a glass of water? He looks thirsty.”
“Um… no-no-no. I need to… we need to…”
“I’ll be right here waiting. Unless you’d rather someone else bring him water?”
I end up bringing him water—of course I do. And not because I’m worried about someone else bringing him water.
By the time I’m out on the deck with him, he’s finishing the third plank. “Babe!” he flashes his full-on smile and grabs the water from my hands. “Awww. Thank you. You’re the best.”
Um… me? “Ethan… I… I don’t know what to say.”
He downs the water in loud gulps, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Handing me the glass back, he pecks my lips, then stays against my mouth and adds, “’bout what? Too loud? Sorry—didn’t think the saw and drill situation through. I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Promise.” He grabs his T-shirt, pulls it back on, gathers his tools, the broken planks and the trestle, and drops everything over the railing. He leans back into me for a longer kiss and an apology (“I’m sweaty”), then hops over the railing, grabs everything, and just disappears.
Brand new deck.
Just like that.
I turn around and look at all the women on the other side of the windows, mouths agape, just like I thought. And at Wendy upstairs, beaming and giving me a thumbs up.