Chapter 19 Gracie
Four Weeks Before the Wedding
Is it possible to die from awkward silence?
With my mortification still at potentially fatal levels after leaving the cake shop, I ask Jude to drop me off at Sofia’s studio instead of braving the hour-long drive back to Larkwood with him.
He doesn’t argue. He only nods in what I assume is shell-shocked silence as I frantically text Sofia.
Thankfully, she replies that she’d love to see me, but there’s a catch: I’ll have to attend the community potluck that’s being held at KILN.
I sigh. Being pressured into taking a studio space is the opposite of how I envisioned spending my evening (in my Snuggie with my old pals, Ben & Jerry).
But at this point, I’d happily skip out of an airborne plane to escape Jude’s presence.
We pull up to the building, and after a flustered goodbye with zero eye contact, I eject myself from the car. Sucking in a merciful lungful of non-Jude-scented air, I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see Sofia in my life.
“Gracie! I’m so glad you came!” she says when I meet her at the studio entrance.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” I say as Jude drives away.
She takes me by the elbow and pulls me inside. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”
I’m still getting my bearings as we enter a large, light-filled studio on the first floor, and a small spasm cinches my chest tight when I look around the crowded room.
Lined with heavy printmaking equipment and all the telltale trappings of an artist trying to make a living doing what they love, this space is a reminder of a life I left behind.
Silently hushing that line of thinking, I hold up the hefty box of extra wedding cake that feels like evidence from a crime scene, and say, “Where should I put this?”
Her eyes light up. “Follow me.”
The room is packed with what feels like the entire Providence arts scene—a moving gallery of carefully waxed handlebar mustaches, asymmetrical haircuts, and even a few babies sporting mullets.
Sofia responds to greetings as we weave toward the long tables at the back, straining beneath potluck offerings.
Standing at the table serving herself quinoa salad is a well-dressed woman with long, straight black hair and utterly perfect skin.
She beams at Sofia and me like she’s been waiting for us.
“Hey, Sofia!” she says, holding her plate away to wrap Sofia in a one-armed hug. She lets go and smiles at me next. “You must be Gracie. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Jae.”
“I am so glad you two are finally meeting,” Sofia says as we shake hands. “Gracie, Jae is also an apparel extraordinaire and rents the studio above this one. She designs the most to-die-for, all-organic children’s clothing that sells out the moment she posts new products.”
Jae nods and waves a hand, like breaking into the super-competitive luxury children’s market is NBD.
“Sofia told me all about Grace & Veil and showed me pictures of some of your designs,” Jae says, excitement radiating from her.
“I can’t wait to have you as my studio neighbor.
Maybe even collaborate on some flower girl sets?
” she suggests, her voice trailing enticingly.
“I—”
But I can’t complete the sentence because suddenly, the room is stifling, and standing next to this gorgeous, successful woman who is living a version of my failed dream feels like looking into a warped mirror of should-have-beens.
“Nothing is set in stone yet,” Sofia hastens to say, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder like I’m a horse that might bolt. “Gracie put her business on temporary hold, and she’s working as a wedding coordinator right now. But her situation might be changing in the coming months.”
Jae’s expression wilts a little, then brightens. “Well, I really hope you consider reopening Grace & Veil.” She looks at Sofia and laughs. “Can you tell I’m desperate for someone in the building whose eyes won’t glaze over when I start talking about vegetable-based fabric dyes?”
Jae and Sofia seem happy to carry the conversation while I contribute the bare minimum. Inside, I’m crumbling. Standing in this picture-perfect studio space, I’d give anything to turn back the clock and avoid all the mistakes I made the first time.
But now, with hefty student loans, an ocean of credit card debt, and a credit score that would make a lender’s eyes water, the idea of restarting Grace & Veil isn’t an idea at all—it’s an impossibility.
And even if I decided to sell my beloved but shabby, six-hundred-square-foot storage shed that calls itself a cottage, there’s no way it would clear my debt.
Which is why I forcibly kick the thought out of my mind.
The next two hours are a blur of keeping a smile on my face while trying not to think about the giant frosting stain on the back of my skirt or the damning Polaroid I snuck into my purse at the last second.
I meet so many incredible artists who all seem convinced that I’m about to join their ranks, and my exasperation with Sofia and this entire day nears a breaking point.
As the event wraps up, Sofia walks over to where I’m boxing up some leftovers. “So,” she says. “What do you think? I don’t have a studio that’s open yet, but I know everyone would be so excited to welcome you here.”
She sounds nervous, which isn’t like her, and the immediate urge to placate her wars with my frustration. I put down the take-out container.
“I know you only want what’s the best for me, but I wish you hadn’t made it sound like I’d already signed a lease and rented a moving truck.”
She winces, tucking her dark curly hair behind an ear. “I knooow,” she says. “I’m sorry I got carried away. But you’re on the brink of a big change no matter what happens with Larkwood, and I just want you to keep your options open.”
“But you know reopening Grace & Veil isn’t an option for me,” I remind her. “If worst comes to worst and I don’t change Jude’s mind, I’m going to need to find another job as quickly as I can.”
She pulls me over to a couple of folding chairs, and reluctantly, I sit. “And how’s that going?” she asks. “Any hint that he might be persuaded?”
In a flash, I’m back at the bakery with my hands tangled in his dark hair and his teeth scraping my neck. I put my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, trying to breathe normally.
“Oh boy,” Sofia says. “What happened?”
So I tell her. I tell her about our stupid game that relocated my brain between my legs. How I practically dragged him down to kiss me and, shamefully, how it was the hottest kiss of my life—or possibly anyone’s life.
“I knew it. I knew this was going to happen! You can’t have an almost kiss and then not follow through eventually. It’s like, against the laws of sexual tension!”
“Not helpful,” I say, tilting my head in my hands to glare at her.
“Do you like him?”
“Not the point.”
“On the contrary, I’d say it’s a pretty salient point, since you just traded bodily fluids with him.”
“Ew, but again, liking or not liking him isn’t relevant. He’s got the relationship preferences of an oyster, he holds the nuclear codes to my life, and I’m going on a date with his best friend tomorrow!”
“What?”
“I know.” I groan, wracked with guilt all over again. “His name is Henry, and he is literally perfect for me. Handsome, gainfully employed, emotionally available, and no known history of sending unsolicited dick pics.”
“Wow,” she says, her eyebrows rising over her gold wire-frame glasses. “Impressive.”
“Exactly. Which is why kissing Jude was not okay.”
She tilts her head and gives me one of her shrewdest looks. “Then why’d you do it?”
Without meaning to, I raise my hand to my mouth, which still feels branded by his kiss. I close my eyes, remembering how it felt to be the focal point of his hungry gaze and bossy hands. I’m… very attracted to you.
“Do you have any water?” I croak out.
Sofia gives me a knowing look and passes her water bottle.
“So, it’s just physical?” she asks while I take a deep gulp. I swear I hear the water sizzle as it hits the bottom of my stomach.
“Definitely,” I insist, not sounding definite at all.
“He’s trying to evict me. Fire me. Destroy my friends’ jobs and stomp on Agatha’s legacy.
” I rub the spot between my eyebrows and shut my eyes.
“But he’s also incredibly thoughtful, funny, and scared of his own cat, and when we talk, I completely forget that he’s ruining my life! It’s the worst.”
“So, you mean definitely not just physical,” she says with a smirk.
“Did you even hear what I just said?”
“Did you? You obviously like each other, Gracie.”
“I mean, I like him, but I don’t like him,” I say, wondering how many middle schoolers uttered the same sentence today.
She gives me a flat, disbelieving look.
Quickly, I say, “Jude has openly admitted to being a walking red flag who doesn’t do relationships. Even if Larkwood wasn’t at stake, that’s not what I’m looking for. Henry is who I’m looking for.”
I twist my hands in my lap, unable to help noticing the lack of conviction when I say it.
But trusting my gut hasn’t worked out for me in the past, and I’m not about to try again when all it seems to do is clap out the name Jude, Jude, Jude.
So instead, I tell her, “It’s the first time I’ve felt open to dating anyone since Calvin, but I’m afraid I’ve already ruined my chance with him by kissing Jude. ”
Sofia brings her legs up so that she’s sitting cross-legged on her chair.
“Gracie, you haven’t even been on a date with this guy yet.
It’s not like you signed a contract to be monogamous with him.
It’s not ideal that they’re best friends, but you have every right to play the field, and honestly, you needed a superhot kiss.
Jude might not be the guy you build a life with, but at least he broke you out of your slump. ”
“So, you don’t think I should tell Henry about the kiss before our date? Jude said he wanted to speak to him first, but I feel like I should address it, too.”
“Hell no. You are a free agent, allowed to kiss anyone you want, anywhere you want, anytime you want, until you both decide to be exclusive.”
“But they’re best friends.”
“Then let the best friends work it out on their own. You can’t beat yourself up for being so hot that you’ve got competing suitors vying for your favor.”
“You make it sound a lot more romantic than it is.”
“Gracie, this is peak romance! What do you think the chances are of turning this into a why-choose throuple situation?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I laugh, which definitely wasn’t on my Bingo card tonight, and in my gratitude, I throw my arms around her. She hugs me back and says, “It’s going to be okay, you know. Even if you lose Jude, Henry, and Larkwood, it’s going to be okay. You’ll move back to Providence! I’ll have my best friend back!”
I sit up to look at her. “What are you talking about? You still have me.”
She lowers her eyes to her lap and says, “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like before, when you lived in the city.”
At this, I take a better look at her. I came in tonight so consumed by my own troubles that I didn’t notice the purplish tint beneath her eyes and the strained lines around her mouth. “Sof, is everything okay?”
She lifts a petite shoulder but doesn’t meet my eye. “I’m okay. There’s just been a lot on the plate.”
“With work? With Sasha?” I ask, realizing I haven’t checked in with her for too long. Her roller-coaster relationship with Sasha (a tortured artist who calls her his muse but insists on space every time she hints about exclusivity) is a perennial source of heartache for her.
She rolls her eyes. “Sasha went to Joshua Tree last week. He’s probably trading portrait paintings for Quaaludes in a nudist colony somewhere.”
“That tracks. And how are you feeling about him leaving?” I ask, knowing she’s probably hurting more than she’s letting on.
“Honestly, I hope he stays out there,” she says quietly. “I know I always say it’s just casual, but there’s this part of me that’s always secretly wishing he’ll grow up and pay his studio rent on time. That and, you know.” She gives a bleak laugh. “Love me.”
It’s so reminiscent of my own dashed hopes for Calvin that my heart breaks, knowing she’s been suffering from similar disappointments. I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You know I’ve been there, and it’s the literal worst feeling.”
“At least Calvin had the decency to break up with you face-to-face,” she says dully. “I got an IOU on a greasy pizza box and an abandoned studio filled with masturbation paintings.”
“Fuck that guy,” I say, anger broiling under my skin.
“Yeah,” she agrees, but without any of the heat I want from her. “Fuck that guy.”
“I wish you had told me. I could have, I don’t know, secretly rubbed lilies all over his paintbrush satchel. They give him massive sneeze attacks, right?”
She snorts. “Brilliant, as usual. But you’ve had enough to deal with.”
“I always want you to tell me what’s going on,” I insist. “I want to help.”
She turns to look at me. “Gracie, you don’t have time to help me.”
I’m about to argue that I’ll always make time for her, but she holds up a hand.
“Look. I’ve known you for nearly my whole life, and while you’ve got a lot of strengths, saying no isn’t one of them.
You give everything to the people you love, even when they don’t deserve it.
And yes, to be clear, I’m talking about your family and Calvin.
” She sighs. “I don’t want to be another person in your life you can’t say no to. ”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat because she’s right. I know I’m a notorious people pleaser, but I never imagined it would hurt anyone but myself. “I know I’ve been taking on a lot lately, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less of a priority to me.”
“I know that,” she says. “I guess I just miss you. I don’t have anyone else to watch zombie movies with.”
“I miss you, too,” I say, feeling the words in my bones. “But promise me no matter how busy I get, you won’t keep the big stuff from me, okay?”
She looks away. “I told you, I’m fine. But if you want to get on my good side, you could consider renting a studio if one of them opens up. Just for personal projects!” she tacks on quickly.
I try not to sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Perfect,” she says, brightening. “Now spill the tea about Henry and this date.”
I do my best to smile, wishing the change in conversation gave me the butterflies I know I should have.
Instead, my stomach sinks lower, knowing the clean slate I’ve been hoping for is already a mess with frosting and lipstick.
But with any luck, dinner with Henry will put me back on the right track.
All I have to do now is forget about the best kiss of my life and pretend I want nothing to do with the man who gave it to me.