51. Grace
fifty-one
Ifeel stupid young this morning. Young and loved and carefree. Everything is right. Everything will work out. Even the impending move of my business is just a bump in the road.
I swing by Easy Monday, the mug with the red roses cutouts in hand. “Chilled Maple Craze, please!” I ask Millie.
“Mmm, mixing it up? I like it,” Millie says. “Your fan group is outside,” she tells me as she hands me my drink.
I join Haley and Alex on the garden that slopes gently down to the river. I’m surprised to see Emma there as well, and even more surprised to see the three of them smiling and seeming to laugh together.
“Hey,” I say, sliding in the empty chair next to the hedge of hydrangeas.
“Hey, yourself,” Alex says. “I hear someone’s been looking out for you.”
Ohmygod, can they tell I’ve been getting so many orgasms? I feel myself blushing.
“Yeah, looks like my brother finally amounted to something,” Haley says, and I know there’s no way she’s talking about what I’m thinking.
I dip my lips to my cup to hide my confusion and look at Emma. I wonder why she’s here, with Alex, when she did things that were not cool at all and almost caused a final breakup between Alex and Chris. But hey, all the more power to Alex for forgiving her.
In small towns, you can’t hold a grudge for too long. You never know who you’ll need, who will be driving by when your car breaks down, or who’s going to give you advice or useful information. The pool of potential friends is just that big, and deep down, I know Emma had Chris’s best interest at heart. Even if she messed up big time. She was looking out for one of us, as she should have been.
And the fact that Alex is here, talking with her as if nothing happened, proves that she understands that about our small town.
We forgive each other. We’re bound to mess up, and holding grudges never helps.
“So I have this client…” Emma starts.
“Ohmygod, Ems, don’t tell me you’re about to break the client confidentiality rule again,” I warn her.
“Hear her out,” Alex says.
Well, if Alex is saying that, then… “Go ahead.”
“Let’s say I have a client who’s in real estate, and his mom is a big fan of your spa. Which she discovered, may I add, through a certain hot volunteer carpenter, if you get my drift.”
“Yeah, he’s not interested.”
Emma tilts her head.
“She texted her son in front of me, and it went nowhere. He knows about the sale and isn’t interested in buying the place.”
Emma has a sly smile. She leans closer to me. “He’s not interested in buying it because he already owns it. George Richardson is your new client’s son.”
I almost spit my coffee out. “Ohmygod, that’s too funny.”
Emma’s smile widens. “You think that’s funny? You should have seen the scene she made when she learned he was the one selling your building.”
“What? How do you know?”
“I was in his office, doing his books. She was shrieking so loud, I couldn’t not hear. Lemme tell you, little Georgie got quite an earful. She threatened to buy the building herself if he didn’t pull it off the market, and she dared him to reject her offer. I was right there in his office when he called his realtor and told him to reject Amy’s offer and pull the listing.”
My mouth hangs open. I don’t even know what to say, or think.
It’s over? Just like that?
I take a deep breath. “Wow. That was almost… too easy.”
“Yeah,” Alex says, “who knew what a hot carpenter and a bossy mom could accomplish?”
“Couldn’t have done it if I tried.”
“I think this calls for a celebration,” Alex declares. “Everyone, Growler tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” Haley says.
To be on the safe side, I check the realtor’s website before calling Ethan. And just like Emma said, the listing is gone.
I call Ethan before even thinking of letting Mom know.
That evening, I wear a cute little sparkly dress, strap on my high-heel sandals, and make my eyes extra smoky. Tonight I’m letting go. My life is perfect, or as perfect as it can be, at least for now.
Tomorrow will come soon enough.
Ethan holds me tight the whole evening, and while he’s as happy as I am about the spa situation, I can tell he’s not entirely here with me. Something’s on his mind, and I think I know what it is.
His time in Emerald Creek is coming to an end, and we’ll soon be saying goodbye.
I don’t want to think about that, so I grind myself against him. Anything to make him forget.
“Babe, what are you doing?” he growls, half laughing into my neck when I pull his hand over my boob while my ass works his front. All of our friends could see us, if they cared to watch. Turns out, they have better things to do.
“Just enjoy tonight,” I yell over my shoulder, trying to cover the music.
He cups his body over mine, taking over our dirty dance. God he’s soooo good. I just want to dry hump him right now.
“We’re gonna go easy on the drinks, yeah?” he says when we take a break, before I can order another shot.
I pretend to pout and let him order a mocktail. “I want a little umbrella!” I cry out to the bartender.
“Is she drunk?” Colton frowns.
“Working on that,” Ethan confirms.
Colton’s body shakes with soft laughter. “Dude, never saw my sister wasted. She’s funny.”
“See? Even my brother says I’m funny. Lemme have a real drink,” I whine.
“Listen to your man, sister.”
“Listen to your man, sister,” I mock. “God you’re such a party pooper. And Fuck The Patriarchy!” I yell, lifting my mocktail in unsteady hands, my wobbly knees dangerously tilting on my heels.
“You okay?” Kiara says, frowning at me.
“Did you hear him?” I ask her, pointing my glass at Colton. “Listen to your man, sister.”
“Dude, not cool,” she says to Colton, but with a smile, and what’s up with that?
“Whose side are you on?”
“Babe,” Ethan’s deep voice in my ear instantly calms me down. “Everyone’s on your side. You just don’t… handle your liquor too well, is all. You’re a lightweight, and I love you like that. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper back. He loves me like that.
“Wanna go outside, get some fresh air?”
“Sure,” I say, leaning on Ethan. The night air picks me up like a cool shower. Shit. I really did have too much to drink, didn’t I? Was I yelling in there? But why did Colton… ohmygod, I yelled at Colton. My sweet brother. “I yelled at Colton,” I say.
“He can handle it.”
I’m turning back to go inside when my phone rings with Mom’s ringtone. I let it go to voicemail. I’m in no state to talk to my mother. The phone rings again.
“Want me to get it for you?”
I shake my head softly. I want to stay here, in silence with Ethan, for another minute. Or two. Or two million. He dips his face to mine and kisses me, then brings me against his chest and caresses my back.
My phone rings again.
Then the voicemail chimes.
Then it rings again.
“I’ll get it for you,” he says and digs into my tiny cross-body purse, picks up, and holds the phone to my ear.
“Gracie—it’s Daddy. He’s—they’re—he’s going to the hospital.” My heart constricts and I look up to Ethan. He frowns and cups my shoulders with his hand while Mom gives me some info. When I hang up, he says, “I’ll drive.”
“We need to tell Colton.”
“Stay right here.” He rushes inside and comes right out, talking to Colton. Colton bolts to his car as we get in the Jeep, Ethan driving.
Ethan cups my thigh with his hand. “Breathe, baby,” he says as we get on the highway. “What did Shannon say?”
All sign of intoxication has suddenly left me. “She came home and found him on the floor.”
“Shit.” He strokes my thigh. “I’m sorry, baby. Did she—did she say if he…?”
I look at him. If he what? He looks so worried; I almost feel sorry for him too. “She found him unconscious, so she called 9-1-1. I don’t know what she did then—I didn’t ask. She called me from the car. She was following the ambulance.”
“Did she sound okay?” He lifts his hand from my thigh to my nape and kneads it, then pulls me against him. “I wish we’d driven her.”
“She’ll be alright,” I say in a small voice. That Ethan is worried for Mom is just so… so touching and overwhelming and sweet. And it makes sense but… I guess I’m not used to a man sharing my daily troubles with me. Why did Dad fall? I should have gone to see him. The last time I did, was… I straighten from Ethan’s embrace to look through the passenger window. “The last real conversation I had with Dad, we argued.” The dark landscape whizzes by while I fight the tears but keep the guilt right where it belongs. Front and center.
Ethan’s hand lands on my thigh again. He gives me a squeeze. “Don’t go there,” he says. Then, stroking me, he adds, “Your dad and your family need you strong. Guilt isn’t gonna do that for you, or for them. Trust me on that.”
I turn my eyes to him and catch his concerned gaze on me. “Whatever you argued about has nothing to do with what happened to him. Trust me on that too. Don’t beat yourself up. Save yourself for where you can help. Just be there for them.”
I nod. “Thanks. You’re right,” I say as we pull into the hospital entrance in record time.
“I’ll drop you off at the entrance and park the car,” Ethan says as he slows under the carport.
I lean over to kiss him. “You’re coming, right?”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“No. I want you to come. I need you, Ethan. I’ll text you where we are.”