Chapter 3
Three
Grace
“C an you fucking believe that?” I scoff after replaying what transpired with Conway in the school parking lot earlier. After I got in my car and sped away, I drove straight to my oldest sister, Georgia’s, house for our weekly watch party for The Bachelor . It’s something me, her, our other sister, Gemma, and our bestie, Charley, have done for years.
“Which part?” Georgia muses, taking a long sip from her wine. “The fact that you were late or that the Wicked Witch paired you up with Daddy Levine?”
“Fuck off. It wasn’t my fault I was late.” Huffing out a breath, I pour myself a generous refill on the wine. “Also gross, Georg. Don’t call him that.”
“Why not?” Arching an eyebrow, she says, “He’d probably be into it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what he’s into.”
“Mmhmm, sure you don’t, Gracey-poo.”
Rolling my eyes, I earn a laugh from Georgia. She’s called me that for as long as I can remember, and I’ve hated it for just as long. I’ve always been “Gracey-poo” and my twin brother, Graham, has always been “Grahamy-wammy.” Why Gemma wasn’t awarded a horrific nickname by Georgia is beyond me.
Speaking of Gemma, she waltzes back into the living room, setting down the bowl of popcorn she just finished popping. “This is exactly why I don’t do any of that PTA crap.”
“I actually enjoy it,” I murmur with a shrug. “Aside from Maggie freaking Ulrich, and now my new, and hopefully short-lived, partnership with Conway.”
“Maggie has always been a miserable bitch,” Gemma adds. “That’s never changing, nor do I see her ever stepping down from her prestigious role as PTA president. That’s sacred to her.”
Huffing out a breath, I mumble, “Don’t I know it.”
“And I’m sure working with Conway isn’t going to be that bad.”
“Gem, the assignment is for the entire year.”
“Still, you’ll probably only have to actually work together a handful of times. And planning parties is like your bread and butter.”
She’s not wrong. Every year, I go all out for my kids’ birthdays, and my family’s too when they let me. But this is different.
“What’s your big issue with Conway anyway?” Charley asks, popping a buttery kernel in her mouth. “I mean, I know you haven’t liked the guy for years, but I guess I don’t know why it’s still bothering you. You aren’t exactly the type to hold a grudge or hate anyone.” She snorts before adding, “Well, except the Wicked Witch.”
“Oh, buckle up,” Georgia quips, tossing me a teasing smile and a wink. For as much shit as she gives me, she’ll have my back no matter what with anything. Georgia is the sister I would call if I needed an alibi. Hell, she’d help me bury the body. She puts up this hard front and teasing is practically her love language, but I know it’s all in good fun.
“Charley, I thought I was going to marry Cole,” I say, setting my wine down on the coffee table. “I had our wedding planned out since I was, like, sixteen. All I wanted from a young age was to get married to a handsome man, have beautiful children, and open a bakery. When I walked in on him cheating on me, it wrecked me. Every plan I had was ripped to shreds.”
“Of course,” Charley mutters. “That would mess anybody up, and I totally get that, and can relate to it. You holding on to that grudge makes sense, but why his dad?”
“Because he knew,” I bite out. “He knew his son was a slimy cheater and said nothing.”
“What? He told you that?”
“Not in so many words, but he didn’t have to.”
“That’s not the only reason why, though, Grace,” Gemma chimes in, her tone teasing as she quirks an eyebrow. “Tell her what else happened.”
“Yeah, Grace ,” Charley urges, mouth curved into a grin. “How about you finally fill me in on this juicy story that everybody but me knows.”
“Not everybody knows.” My lip twitches. “Only Gemma and Georgia.”
My family has known Charley and her parents since we were toddlers. Our dads golf together every week, and they have for as long as I can remember. They met in high school and became the best of friends. It’s the cutest decades long bromance I’ve ever seen. Charley’s a few years older than me, so we didn’t become close until I was in high school, but the four of us have been tight knit for a long while. I don’t really know why I’ve never told her this story. Probably because it’s embarrassing. Heck, I probably wouldn’t have told my sisters either if they hadn’t gotten me drunk the following weekend to get my mind off Cole and the break-up.
It didn’t get my mind off either, but it did push me to spill my guts about Conway as I bawled in that special and dramatic way only drunk girls can.
Finishing the rest of my wine, I look over at Charley, feeling my cheeks heat already. Even fourteen years later, this is humiliating. “Well, you know how I came home after I caught Cole?” She nods. “In a horrible attempt at making myself feel better, I drove out to that bar in downtown Westbrook with a plan to find a hot older man to have a one-night stand with.”
Charley’s eyebrows pinch together. “Because you’re totally the one-night stand type of chick.”
“No, I’m most certainly not.” I chuckle. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was heartbroken; my long-term relationship with the guy I lost my virginity to had shattered right in front of me. The idea of being everything some hot, established, and maybe wealthy man would want that night felt good. Like it might’ve healed the machete size gash in my chest.”
“Hold up.” Holding up a finger, Charley tilts her head for a moment before her eyes go wide. “Wait, did you fuck his dad? Please tell me you fucked his dad, Grace!”
Georgia snorts. “That’s what I said!”
“No,” I scoff. “I did not fuck his dad. My gosh, you guys.”
“Okay, then what?”
“I got kind of drunk, Conway happened to be there, and he insisted on driving me home.”
“Well, that’s kind of sweet,” Charley offers.
“Sure, until we parked in front of my parents’ house, and I threw myself at him like a freaking drunk, desperate idiot, and he practically threw me off him! First, Cole didn’t want me, then his dad turned me down too? Kind of a major blow to a twenty-year-old girl’s ego.”
“But you said you were drunk, right?”
“Yes.”
“Grace, I’m sure he was just being a gentleman and not wanting to take advantage of you when you were drunk and legally not able to consent.” Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on her knees. “And more than that, he’s known you since you were way younger. It must’ve been a shock having you kiss him. I highly doubt it was anything more than that.”
I groan, eyes closing for a moment. “I don’t care, it was humiliating.”
My gaze connects with Gemma’s, and she’s giving me that sweet, empathetic mom smile she does. She and I are both mothers, but she’s no doubt the mother of the group. “Babe, you know I love you, but I think it’s time to let go of the grudge.” I open my mouth to respond, but she beats me to it. “All it’s doing is making you all tense and pissed off when he’s around. Your daughters are best friends, so it’s safe to say you’re not getting rid of him any time soon. This could be an opportunity to become more friendly and comfortable with him, at least.”
Biting down on my molars, I don’t say anything. Logically, I know she’s right. Me holding on to this for fourteen years is excessive, but there’s some tiny part of me who can’t let go of how it felt getting my heartbroken by Cole. It was one of the most traumatic moments in my life, and it changed me irrevocably.
Huffing out an exaggerated breath, I say, “Can we please talk about something more fun? Georgia!” I snap my fingers. “Dating updates, stat.”
I’ve always felt I was the romantic of our group, and Georgia is the exact opposite. All fun, no strings is, and always has been, her motto, and I’ve always admired her for it. Many times over the several years, I’ve wished I could be as chill and unattached as her. It would make dating a hell of a lot easier. For me, sex and feelings go hand in hand. I can’t have one without the other. But for my sister, feelings and commitment are the quickest ways to get her to dry up.
How nice it must be to have sex without getting attached.
At almost ten years older than me, I’ve always looked up to Georgia. She was the cool, confident, drop-dead gorgeous girl, who could easily make anybody laugh. She has the voluptuous curves and the huge boobs I’ve never had but always wanted. Hell, up until I had kids, I barely needed a bra, they were so small. Georgia is who I always wanted to be when I was younger. She was everything I wasn’t. And it would seem, at thirty-four years old, I’m still wishing I could be a little more like her.
Confident. Self-assured. Comfortable in her own skin and with her own sexuality. Georgia is unabashedly her truest self always, and I admire her for that.
“You know that book convention I went to last weekend in Charlotte?” she asks before finishing off her wine.
I nod. Georgia owns a cute romance bookstore a few minutes away from my bakery, and she’s always traveling to bookish events to do somewhat of a pop-up bookstore on sight. All of us siblings have always been readers, so it’s cool to see her do.
“There was this couple that kept walking past my booth during the event, and I didn’t really think anything of it at first. Figured the woman was trying to talk her husband or boyfriend into buying some books from my table.”
There’s a glint in her eye that tells me that wasn’t the case.
“I’m listening,” I murmur with a grin. I can confidently speak for Gemma and Charley when I say Georgia’s dating stories are the highlight of all of our days. No two stories are ever the same, nor are they ever boring.
“Toward the end of the event, the woman finally approached my booth,” Georgia offers. “But the guy was nowhere to be found. She asked if I wanted to grab a drink with her after I was finished cleaning up, and I said sure. Maybe the boyfriend, or whoever he was, went out with friends or something.”
“He didn’t go out with friends, did he?” Charley asks.
“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Georgia chuffs. “But after a few cocktails, the woman and I decided to head back up to her suite, where he met us.”
“You fucked them both!” I blurt out, so invested in this story.
Shaking her head, my sister says, “Nope. Husband was a cuck.”
Confusion furrows my brow. “A what?”
“A cuckold,” she says, like that explains everything now. I swear, compared to Georgia, you’d think I was a thirty-plus-year-old virgin with how little I know about things like kink. “A man who gets off on watching his wife fuck other people.”
Holy fuck, that’s kind of hot.
“You had sex with her while he watched?” Gemma asks, looking as enthralled in this story as I am. “Was he on the bed beside y’all?”
Georgia chuckles. “No, he sat in the chair in the corner.”
“How very Joe Goldberg of him,” my sister mumbles.
“It was fucking hot,” Georgia adds.
I fan myself dramatically. “Sounds like it. You’re my hero, Georg.”
“Shit, you’re mine too,” Charley says, chuckling.
Watching the rest of The Bachelor and having another glass of wine, it’s easy to let go of the annoyance I felt so strongly back at the school. These nights are always my favorite. Getting to hang out with my three favorite people while gossiping and venting is like a second form of therapy for me. Gemma brings her kids, and I do too if they’re not with their dad like they are tonight, and they get to play with their cousins for a few hours. It’s fun for everyone, and I always leave at the end of the evening with my cup overflowing.
I don’t know what I’d do without the three of them.
Even if they give me advice that’s obnoxiously good and I don’t want to follow it.