Chapter 20 Gracie
Four Weeks Before the Wedding
Despite Sofia’s insistence that I should play it cool with Henry, she seems to have forgotten that I am incapable of playing it cool, ever.
As I walk toward the restaurant where he told me to meet him, “cool” feels about as foreign to me as Jupiter.
This morning, after my daily stress run through the grounds, I got a text from Jude with three of the most panic-inducing words I’ve ever read: I told him.
I called Jude immediately, but he didn’t pick up. Instead, I got another message.
Jude: Heading into a meeting.
Gracie: What did he say?? Is he okay??
Jude: He’s pissed at me, but not at you. He still wants to have dinner.
Gracie: That’s all you’re going to tell me? What details did you give him? Do you think he’s going to bring it up tonight?
Jude: I have to go. I hope you both enjoy yourselves tonight.
After that last text, he set his phone to Do Not Disturb, and I was left on my own to contemplate texting Henry or possibly flinging myself into the ocean.
In the end, I did neither, instead opting to bury myself in work and party planning for my mom.
But now I’m here, and avoidance-through-checklists is no longer an option.
Taking a deep breath, I walk into the restaurant.
Looking around, I’m struck by how romantic and capital-F Fancy it is inside.
The space is dim and tastefully modern in muted shades of pink with crisp white tablecloths.
It smells like freshly baked bread and flambéed paychecks.
Immediately, my guilt ratchets higher. It’s been years since anyone wined and dined me in a place this nice.
But he didn’t cancel, I remind myself. He wants to give this a chance, too.
After the host greets me, I’m guided through the room of artfully set tables until I spot him. Henry stands immediately, dressed in an impeccable blue suit and white T-shirt, and I’m relieved to see him smiling.
“Hi,” he says, coming over to kiss me on the cheek as the host vanishes. He only has an inch or two of height on me, which means less back-bending and tiptoeing than with certain very tall people who will not be thought about. Clearly a bonus. Henry draws away and says, “You look beautiful.”
I feel color rise to my face as I get a hit of his spicy aftershave. “Thanks, so do you.”
He grins, dimples on full display as he pulls my chair out for me. “Well, I did wax my unibrow just for you.”
A surprised laugh escapes me as I tuck in my seat and Henry settles across from me. “Thoughtful hair removal before a first date should never go underappreciated.”
“Especially when that hair removal is the only thing that makes me distinguishable from my eighty-three-year-old nonna.”
I smile, but the elephant in the room may as well be perched on my shoulders. Thankfully, he notices and breaks the ice for me.
“So. You and Jude. I heard he took things to the next level at the cake shop.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as all my excuses bubble up like magma. “It was a complete accident,” I blurt. “The lady at the shop would have turned us away if she didn’t think we were the couple and—”
“Gracie, relax,” he interrupts, leaning forward to catch my gaze.
“Jude explained the whole thing. Am I pissed that he didn’t just kiss you on the cheek like a gentleman?
Yeah, I am. But he said you made it clear you’re not interested in him that way, and he’s not the kind of guy who’s ever interested in anything serious.
” He leans back, his eyebrows drawing together with concern.
“But I did want to confirm what he said. That you’re not interested in him, I mean. ”
You seemed pretty interested in him when you had your tongue in his mouth, a prim little voice points out.
Or when you fell asleep to his voice on the phone and woke up missing him.
But the truth is, my misplaced feelings for Jude are irrelevant.
Like Henry pointed out, he isn’t interested in commitment, and I need to give myself a chance with someone who is.
“What I’m interested in,” I eventually say, “is finding someone who actually wants to be in a relationship. I want to see if there’s a chance of that with you.”
He stares at me for a moment, like he’s trying to make sure I’m telling the truth. Finally, he says, “Then that’s good enough for me.”
Relief washes through my body, and I’m saved from having to come up with the next thing to say when a buttoned-up server comes to greet us.
As we order drinks and Henry continues to charm me with his self-deprecating jokes and genuine interest in my life, the tension that’s made my spine feel like a knotted rope for the last twenty-four hours relaxes.
By the time our second course arrives, making conversation is easy.
“Do you like being a lawyer, though?” I ask when he says he used to dream of being a chef.
“Most of the time,” he says, absently swirling his wine.
“I’ve always gravitated toward work with lots of details to manage.
” He takes a sip and smiles ruefully. “My idea of fun as a teenager was teaching myself accounting software to help my parents with their small business, in case you wanted to know how much I didn’t get laid during high school. ”
“Well, I happen to find a working knowledge of QuickBooks very attractive,” I joke, only realizing how flirty it sounds after it comes out of my mouth.
I’m about to backpedal until I remind myself I’m on a date.
I should be flirting. But so far, despite his dimples and charm, all I feel for Henry is great friendship chemistry.
The worst part is, I’m not sure it would have been an issue for me before meeting Jude.
But now, there’s something missing—a connection that goes deeper than a fun conversation and fills the cracks left by loss.
If that weren’t enough, the complete absence of any urge to get my hands up Henry’s shirt feels like a missing puzzle piece Jude stole from the box.
“I love organizing details and checking off long lists, too,” I say, trying to pivot. “Especially if it means helping someone with a big life event. I’m sure people are just as grateful for your help with the probate process.”
“You’d be surprised,” he deadpans. “Mostly, they wonder why it takes so long, but I do get a few gem clients once in a while. Like Jude,” he concedes, while I try hiding my surprise that he brought him up again.
“He understands the process better than most, and he’s paying me a king’s ransom for the Larkwood job.
Wouldn’t even listen when I offered my friends-and-family rate. ”
I take a sip of my wine, grateful that Henry can’t hear my heart rate climb. “That’s generous of him. Larkwood must be an enormous project.”
Henry finishes chewing a bite and wipes his mouth with his napkin.
“Understatement of the year. But Jude wouldn’t dream of shortchanging anyone.
” He glances at me with something like apprehension.
“I know yesterday wasn’t his finest moment, and no, I haven’t fully forgiven him for it, but usually, he’s the most morally solid guy I know.
Honorable, even, if such a thing still exists. ”
I drop my gaze, pushing the last bites of food around my plate. “My opinion of him has definitely been changing as I get to know him better,” I say carefully. “But sometimes it’s still hard to believe he means well when he’s the main reason I might be out of a job soon.”
“I get that. But trust me when I say he isn’t doing it lightly. Whatever reason he’s got, I know it has to be something unavoidable.”
“So, you have no idea who his mystery buyer is, or why he’s acting like his plans could trigger Doomsday if they got out?”
Henry adjusts himself in his chair and scratches the side of his neck. “Ahh, not technically. No.”
“Not technically,” I repeat, unable to help leaning forward in my seat.
Henry hesitates, slowly spinning his wineglass on the white tablecloth. “Well, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d bet his secrecy has something to do with his family.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised by his answer when all I’ve been able to picture is Taylor Swift adding Larkwood to her Rhode Island real estate portfolio. “Do you mean with his mom being attorney general? Like it could be a political thing?”
Henry leans back, his eyebrows pulling together.
“No, I don’t think it’s political. Jude’s family…
” He glances up at me, and I try not to look like I’m an investigative journalist who’s just smelled blood in the water.
“I’ll just say I’ve known him a long time, and I’ve never heard a single story about his childhood.
I didn’t even know he’d grown up at Larkwood until I met Agatha at graduation and she forced him to bring me over.
” He gives me a wry look. “Up until then, I guess I assumed he’d just emerged into existence, fully formed and wearing a suit. ”
“So, you think his reasons are purely personal, instead of work-related?” I ask, thinking of how he told me the buyer had certain aims “close to his heart.”
Henry shrugs. “Well, with Jude, work is personal.”
I snort. “You mean because his greatest joy is being the funeral director of his clients’ relationships?”
For the first time all night, Henry looks defensive, which, after the kiss debacle, is a testament to his loyalty as a friend.
“A lot of people marry the wrong person. And Jude doesn’t just work with the Newport ‘have-yachts.’ He’d never mention this, but nearly fifty percent of his work is pro bono. ”
I pull up short at this. “He can afford to do that?”
“Well, the other half is the Newport set, so yes.”
“I think as a wedding planner, it’s been easy for me to judge him,” I admit, feeling abashed. “A divorce lawyer kind of feels like my natural enemy.”