Chapter 1 #2
Luke loved the house. He said it felt like her.
Grace had never known exactly what that meant, but she loved him for saying it.
He turned off the engine but did not get out. “Don’t say nothing when it isn’t nothing.”
She leaned back against the seat.
“I don’t know her well enough to have a real opinion.”
“But?”
Grace watched a squirrel leap along the fence. “But I don’t like how everyone speaks for her before I can speak for myself.”
Luke’s face gentled. “That’s fair.”
“And I don’t like feeling as if I’m being tested on whether I’m secure enough to include your beautiful, charming, indispensable almost-ex in my wedding party.”
“She’s not my almost-ex.”
“You dated.”
“For about five minutes.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
His eyebrows lifted.
Grace hated that she had asked. She hated it more that she needed the answer.
Luke shifted in his seat, angling fully toward her. “No.”
The air left her lungs.
“No,” he repeated. “We kissed once. Freshman year of college. It was weird. We laughed about it. That was it.”
“Everyone says that like it should make me feel better.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Not entirely.”
“Why?”
Because she still knows where everything is kept in your parents’ house.
Because your mother looked at her today before she looked at me.
Because when Elaine said it would mean a lot to you, you let her.
Because Brooklyn touched my wrist like she was welcoming me into something that already belonged to her.
Grace did not say any of that. It sounded too much like insecurity, and she had spent too many years recovering from a marriage where reasonable hurt had been renamed drama.
“My first husband had a coworker,” she said instead.
Luke’s expression changed.
He knew pieces of the story. Not all of it. Grace had not hidden the divorce, but she had also refused to let it become the opening chapter of every relationship afterward.
“He said she was just a friend,” Grace continued. “He said I was imagining things. He said I was making him feel guilty for having normal relationships. And then one day he left his email open.”
Luke’s hand went still.
“I’m not saying that’s this,” Grace said. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I trust you.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t trust situations where everyone decides a woman’s discomfort is less important than keeping the peace.”
Luke closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the softness was gone. Not replaced by anger. By seriousness. “You’re right,” he said.
Grace looked at him.
He reached for her hand again, and this time his grip was firm. “You’re right. I should’ve handled it at brunch. I didn’t because it felt familiar and harmless to me, and I didn’t think about how it felt to you. That’s on me.”
The knot in Grace’s chest loosened.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
“And if you decide you don’t want Brooklyn in the wedding party, I’ll support that.”
Grace searched his face.
He meant it.
That was the problem. Luke often meant the right thing in private. The question was whether he would still mean it in front of everyone else.
Her phone buzzed in her purse before she could answer. She pulled it out, expecting Paige or a client. It was a text from an unknown number.
Hi Grace! It’s Brooklyn. Elaine gave me your number. I hope that’s okay! I’m so excited to help with the wedding. I know Luke so well, and I already have a ton of ideas that will make everything perfect. Lunch this week? Just us girls. xo
Grace stared at the message.
Luke leaned over slightly. “Brook?”
“She wants lunch.”
“That’s nice.”
Grace read the message again.
I know Luke so well.
She wondered whether Brooklyn had written that deliberately.
Then she hated herself for wondering.
Luke kissed her temple. “You don’t have to answer right now.”
Grace looked down at the diamond on her finger. It caught the afternoon light, sending a white spark against the dashboard.
“No,” she said quietly. “I should.”
She typed with both thumbs.
Hi Brooklyn. Lunch sounds good.
Before she could second-guess herself, she hit send.
Brooklyn’s reply came less than ten seconds later.
Amazing. I already feel like we’re going to be such good friends.
Grace’s stomach sank.
Luke smiled, oblivious. “See? She’s trying.”
Grace locked her phone.
“Yes,” she said.
Brooklyn was trying.
That was exactly what worried her.
Lunch was Thursday at The Lark, because Brooklyn chose it before Grace could suggest anywhere else.
Not rudely. Never rudely.
She sent three options in a row, all with little comments attached.
The Lark is cute and has great salads.
Or Rose & Finch, but parking is awful.
Actually, The Lark is easiest for you from your office, isn’t it? Let’s do that.
By the time Grace looked at the messages between client calls, the plan had somehow become final.
The Lark was the sort of place Grace liked in theory and avoided in practice. White tile, brass fixtures, tiny tables, expensive greens arranged in shallow bowls. Women in workout sets drank iced coffee beside women in suits. Everyone seemed hydrated and lightly misted.
Brooklyn was already seated when Grace arrived.
Of course she was.
She stood with a delighted smile and kissed Grace’s cheek before Grace could decide whether they were hugging.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Brooklyn said, settling back into her chair. “I feel like we haven’t had a real chance to connect.”
Grace placed her bag beside her feet. “It’s been a busy week.”
“I bet. Engagement week is such a blur.”
The phrase sounded intimate, experienced. As if Brooklyn had a private archive of Luke milestones Grace was only now being permitted to access.
Grace opened her menu. “It has been.”
Brooklyn did not look at hers. “The quinoa bowl is good. The salmon is better, but only if you ask for the dressing on the side.”
“Thanks.”
A waiter appeared almost immediately.
Brooklyn ordered sparkling water for both of them before Grace could ask for tap.
Again, not rude, exactly. Just fast.
“So,” Brooklyn said once they were alone, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, “how are you doing with Elaine?”
Grace smiled politely. “Fine.”
“Good. She can be a lot.”
That surprised a laugh out of Grace. “She’s very involved.”
“She means well.”
“I’m sure.”
“She’s just protective of Luke.”
Grace met Brooklyn’s eyes. “I understand that.”
Brooklyn’s expression softened. “He’s been through a lot.”
Grace waited.
Brooklyn looked down at her napkin, smoothing it over her lap. “I don’t mean to make that sound mysterious. You probably know most of it.”
“Probably.”
“With his divorce, I mean.”
Luke’s divorce had been final for 1 year when Grace met him. His ex-wife, Marissa, lived in Chicago now. There had been no children, no ongoing war, no scandal Luke had ever shared. Just two people who married too young and discovered too late that compatibility was not the same as love.
“What about it?” Grace asked.
Brooklyn’s eyes widened slightly. “Nothing bad. God, no. I only meant he took it hard.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t always show things.”
“I know that too.”
A small pause.
Grace had the sudden distinct impression that Brooklyn did not like being unable to surprise her.
Then Brooklyn smiled. “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I’m being annoying.”
“You’re not.”
“I just want to help. Luke is one of the most important people in my life.”
There it was again.
The flag planted gently in the soil.
Grace folded her hands on the table. “He’s important to me too.”
Brooklyn’s smile did not move. “Obviously.”
The waiter returned with water. Brooklyn thanked him by name. Grace noticed, absurdly, that he seemed pleased she remembered.
“I was thinking,” Brooklyn said when he left, “we should talk wedding vibe.”
“Luke and I haven’t decided much yet.”
“Oh, totally. I just know him so well.”
Grace took a sip of water.