Chapter 12 Gracie
Six Weeks Before the Wedding
Jude: You should be back now.
Jude: Are you not responding on purpose?
Gracie: Too busy hailing a long-haul trucker with my sandwich. Do you think flashing some leg would work better than flashing pastrami?
Jude: Tell me you’re not broken down and hitchhiking.
Gracie: I’m home! Just pulled into my driveway, you psycho. Go pet your cat or something.
Jude: I’d prefer to keep my fingers, thanks.
Gracie: Your own cat won’t let you pet her? Sad.
Jude: Taco is more of a “look with your eyes, not your hands” companion.
Gracie: Like a museum exhibit?
Jude: Like a land mine.
Gracie: Aw. I’m sure it’s just you she doesn’t like.
Jude: I think you forgot the word “not” before “just.”
Gracie: Nope. Just you.
Tuesday
Jude: Video message
Gracie: The only thing this footage proves is Taco’s wise, instinctual mistrust of lawyers.
Jude: Henry still has scars!
Gracie: Scars build character! Also, a responsible owner would make sure their pet’s nails are trimmed.
Jude: Yes, she’s quite militant about enforcing my personal hygiene habits.
Gracie: Good to know where you rank in the scheme of things.
Jude: Definitely below treats, but somewhere above kitty litter.
Gracie: And don’t you forget it!
Gracie: Btw, do you have time to meet tomorrow at my florist’s? It’s called Daphne’s Petals. I need to beg her to do this wedding, and you definitely haven’t had your weekly recommended serving of guilt yet.
Jude: I’m practically wasting away. Can you do 12?
Gracie: Yes, it’s a date!
Gracie: Not like a date, date. You don’t even do those, obviously.
Jude: Obviously?
Gracie: Am I not texting with the Grim Reaper of Relationships? Yes, obviously.
Gracie:… right?
Jude: Why, are you interested?
Gracie: Kb N
Gracie: oops, I mean, NO.
Jude: You sure, butter fingers? I’ve been told my scythe is really big.
Gracie: I’m blocking you! See you tomorrow.
Jude: I’ll be the one in black.
Gracie: BLOCKING
Wednesday
Gracie: Are you okay? You seemed a little shell-shocked when we left.
Jude: I’m fine, just sweeping up the pieces of my shattered soul.
Gracie: I never said this was going to be easy.
Jude: You also never said you’d be breaking the news about Larkwood to your friends in front of me. Are all of them going to cry like that?
Gracie: Probably? I tried to tell you how much Larkwood means to everyone. I wasn’t kidding.
Jude: Consider me chastened.
Gracie: And convinced?
Jude: I’m sorry, no. But that doesn’t mean today didn’t have an impact.
Gracie: Then I guess you can consider me hopeful.
Jude: I can’t imagine you as anything but.
Thursday
Gracie: I see you typing. Is this about the chance of rain in the forecast?
Jude: It’s over 80 percent. That’s practically a threat.
Gracie: Shouldn’t you be busy unaliving a marriage or something? I have a weather app, you know.
Jude: Do you have new tires, too?
Gracie: No, but I do have a handy predisposition for never leaving my house unless forced.
Jude: We’re still on for tomorrow night, though, right?
Gracie: Do I sense the tides shifting? Are you looking forward to wedding planning events?
Jude: I’m looking forward to having an excuse not to join Henry’s pickleball team.
Gracie: That *almost* makes me want to cancel. But we’re still on—unless it drizzles, of course.
Jude: With those tires, you should take hydroplaning seriously.
Gracie: I think it’s time for your prune juice and a nap, Grandpa.
Jude: See you tomorrow, Gracie.