Chapter 17 Grace
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Grace
Post-ramen with Andrew, I spent the next few nights eating my dinner with his voice filtering through the small earbuds shoved into my ears.
I warmed up my frozen dinner while Andrew told me what he was making for himself.
I walked Buster while Andrew read out loud a New York Times article about why eating only soft foods like pudding and mac and cheese and smoothies is bad for you.
Apparently, you need something tough and fibrous to maintain a healthy diet.
And he laid his phone on his bathroom counter, brushing his teeth over the sink, while I listed off the catalog of men my mom sent me so she could set me up.
I guess the initial guilt she felt about my horrid blind date has worn off, and a new wave of determination has hit her.
I’d be lying if I said Andrew’s reaction didn’t provide a moment of entertainment.
It started off with baffled and toothpaste foam-filled “what?” which transitioned into some uncontrolled stuttering and a cough I imagine was expelled into a fist. Then the follow-up questions came.
If I was going to meet these suitors and whether or not I thought Raymond, who my mom met in the checkout line at Trader Joe’s, would have a wife list similar to the one Harold had.
I laughed it off while secretly noting the discomfort I could feel through the speaker.
As my weeknights became consumed with Andrew, I realized by the time I received a text message from Teeny on Friday night, I had gone the whole week without talking to her.
No meme or Instagram reel referencing an inside joke only she and I would get.
No random pictures of a vanilla latte with a request for a mid-week coffee date.
Not even a link to a cute dress or purse I found online with a plea crying, “Please tell me I can’t afford this,” knowing she’d only respond with, “You deserve it.”
So, when the purpose of her message is to ask me if I’m free for brunch Saturday morning, I couldn’t say no.
Not that I don’t want to see her, but as soon as I read her message—a sweet and simple “brunch?” followed by a grinning-smiley face emoji—I became vividly aware of all the things I’ve been keeping from her.
I can’t tell Teeny about Andrew. I can’t tell her about this guy I just started talking to or all the hours he and I have logged over the phone.
The old-fashioned way of communicating instead of through a back-and-forth game of text message tag.
I have to pretend like my love life is as bland and listless as it’s always been.
It’s not just Teeny. I can’t even tell Jade about it.
My own sister. The two people who have always invested so much interest in my dating history.
Whether it was to hold me while I cried over my failed marriage or to clink a glass of champagne over my first rebound after my divorce.
I have to keep all of this, these new and exciting feelings, from both of them.
I guess it’s just as well. There shouldn’t be any new, exciting feelings to tell anyway.
Andrew and I are friends. Secret friends.
There’s nothing to tell, and it should stay that way.
Spreading gossip over these confusing thoughts would definitely complicate things.
I feel like a damn metronome, swaying back and forth with this annoying synchronous rhythm.
I’m caught up in these wishy-washy feelings, going back and forth from feeling giddy and excited every time my phone buzzes with a new message from Andrew and quickly smothering it the second I remember he’s just a friend. I’m giving myself whiplash.
But right now, I have to smother whatever waffling thoughts keep popping up in my head.
I’m meeting Teeny in five minutes at a quaint mom-and-pop diner called Marie’s in Del Mar Heights.
Teeny brought me here for the first time about a year ago.
I ordered a plate of hazelnut waffles, and I haven’t been able to stay away since.
I walk in, and just as I tell the hostess it’ll be a table for two and step aside to wait for Teeny, my phone buzzes in my hand.
“Hey,” I say, answering Teeny’s call. “I just got here. It’s just a few minutes for a table.
“Grace, I’m so sorry, but it’s going to be a while until I make it there,” she says. She sounds distracted and worried.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she answers. “Sadie just called me and said her ankle rolled during morning practice, and now she can’t walk.”
“Oh, poor baby.”
She sighs through the slight drum of traffic while talking through the speaker system in her car. “I told her not to join track. That girl is so clumsy. Organized sports is not her thing.”
I laugh at her small attempt at a joke at Sadie’s expense, knowing she’s doing it to snuff the worry rattling her nerves. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I think so, but she wants me to come get her,” she explains. “And I called Everett. He was playing pickleball with Josh. He’s meeting me at her school.”
“Pickleball?”
“Yeah, it’s their new thing,” she explains. “I told him it’s probably nothing, but he wouldn’t hear it.”
“Okay, do you want me to wait for you then?”
“If you don’t mind. If anything, I’ll just pick her up and bring her with me. If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I answer. “I’m sure she’s fine. You know, kids injure themselves like this all the time.”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
I hang up, a little disappointed while hoping this scare turns out to be nothing.
“I’ll show you to your table.”
The kind hostess smiles at me, a small stack of menus held to her chest, while the expectant look on her face urges me to follow her.
I follow her despite the change in plans and once I’m at the small booth, I turn to her and apologetically say, “It’ll be a few more minutes for my friend can get here. ”
“Okay,” she answers with a nod. “I’ll let your server know.”
I open one of the menus, though I already know what I’m going to order.
I consider adding a side of bacon or breakfast potatoes at the same time a server breezes by, placing two identical glasses of water in front of me.
I order a cup of coffee, still waiting for the other half of my party, and continue my perusal of the menu.
It’s when I’m adding two packets of sugar to my coffee that I look up only to be greeted by the last person I thought I’d run into here.
“Hey.” Andrew smiles down at me, his arms out in the open for all of humanity to see in his cutoff sleeves.
And of course, those tattoos licking down his strained biceps.
He’s wearing gym shorts and sneakers, the epitome of a lazy Saturday morning and someone who most likely spends his free time working out.
“Hi,” I respond. “What are you doing here?”
“Just ordering some waffles to go.”
“Waffles?” My brow shoots up, and I purse my lips into an approving smile.
“Yeah, why?” he asks. He slips into the seat across from me, settling into the cushioned seat with a pleased smile as if he plans to stay.
His eyes gleam in the light streaming in from the window right next to us.
They look even more caramel-colored than usual, swirling in pools of brown with small flecks of bronze and copper.
They curve when he smiles, the brown turning warmer under the shadows now cast from his brow.
“What?” I respond, feigning innocence. Our eyes lock in a flickering pause filled with silent smiles. I can feel the taunt in the playful bounce of his brows and the slick way he rolls the tip of his tongue across his perfect teeth.
“What do you mean ‘what?’” he goads. “What’s that smile?”
“I just find it funny that you like the waffles here too,” I tell him honestly.
“You like them?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“And you just thought to come here all alone to enjoy a plate.”
The reminder that Teeny is going to be here soon makes my smile drop. I look around, suddenly worried she’s watching us from an obscure corner like some lurker or spy. Maybe she’s even recording us to use as some video evidence to confront me later. “Um, actually, no. I’m meeting Teeny.”
His smile drops too. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“She’s just running a little late. I guess Sadie hurt herself at track practice, so…
” A stretch of silence sits between us while the happy chatter of diners surrounds us, along with the clatter of silverware against ceramic plates.
I see Andrew hesitate, obviously deciding if he should leave or stay, when I tell him, “But you can stay until she gets here. You know, we aren’t breaking any rules by running into each other. ”
“Yeah.”
While I didn’t expect some celebratory-level excitement, I also didn’t expect the indifferent way he responds in a glum voice.
It seems we’ve reached an impasse. No matter what, it’s not an ideal situation.
While we’re sitting here, pretending there’s nothing going on, it doesn’t make it any better that we’re hiding all of this from Teeny.
As soon as she walks into this diner, I have to act as if I don’t know his favorite ice cream flavor is cookies and cream and that he knows how much I hate having my bare feet touch hard flooring.
“Did you want to order a coffee or something?” Just as I ask my question, my phone buzzes on the table. We both look at it with an air of anticipation while the question hangs above us. Is it Teeny?
Sure enough, when I flip my phone over, I see a new message from Teeny.
Teeny
I have to take Sadie to the emergency room. Looks like she may have sprained it, but I want to make sure she didn’t break anything. Sorry but looks like I’m going to have to take a rain check on brunch. I promise I’ll make it up to you!
I should be worried. I should feel awful that my best friend will be spending all morning, and most likely a portion of her afternoon, in a packed emergency room.
And I do. If I had some magical powers to telepathically heal Sadie’s ankle, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
But then I see the man in front of me, looking at me from the edge of his seat with his gaze flitting from the phone in my hand to me.
“Is that Teeny? She almost here?”
I shake my head. “She’s actually heading to the emergency room with Sadie. I guess she hurt herself pretty badly.” I look at Andrew just in time to catch one of his eyebrows tilting upward in amusement. “She’s not coming.”
“Oh?”
I narrow my eyes at his piqued interest. A silent rebuke. “You’re not worried about your niece?”
“I’m sure she’s in good hands,” he answers calmly. A little too calmly. “My sister knows what she’s doing.”
I shake my head, doing a horrible job of hiding the smile creeping up my face. “You’re horrible.”
“Sure,” he agrees, adding a small, uninterested shrug. “But aside from being horrible, there’s a small silver lining to it.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“I don’t have to leave.”
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms, and shoot him with a flat look.
It’s not fair how he plays this game, using a moment of misfortune to two people we both care deeply for and this chance meeting to spend some so-called innocent time together.
He’s playing dirty, using his rooks and bishops while I’m barely learning how to use my pawns. “You aren’t playing fair, Andrew.”
He leans back too, his posture mirroring mine. “I’m taking what I can get,” he corrects. “You know, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“And you’re the beggar in this situation?”
“Feels like it sometimes.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?” he asks, goading. “Or am I realizing the cost of a secret friendship?”
“Are you saying it’s not worth it?”
“It’s worth every penny I don’t have,” he clarifies. “So I have to be…frugal.”
I don’t know how our conversation veered left, completely off track and onto a complicated path full of metaphors and nuances.
I’m sitting on my side of the booth, deciphering his words, and I suddenly realize the ways our friendship has cost me.
My sanity, my morals, quite possibly my friendship with Teeny. I start to wonder what it’s cost him.
“Andr—”
“So, are we going to order some waffles?” His pushy interruption is sudden but welcomed. A moment for us to both disregard the gregarious expenditure we’ve suddenly become so vividly aware of and enjoy what I came for.