Chapter 23 Gracie #2
Sofia looks at me from the driver’s seat, and in the moonlight, the lingering tears in her eyes shine bright. “I think I’ve been hoping it would all just… work out. But then Dad packed his things a few weeks ago, and—”
“A few weeks ago?” I cut her off, stunned. “Before the potluck?”
“Gracie—”
“You promised you weren’t keeping anything big from me,” I say, losing my grip on what I should be doing right now—comforting my friend.
Before I can stop it, my selfish question ejects itself from the dark little box I tried stuffing it in.
“When were you going to tell me any of this? Were you just hoping I’d never want to come over for dinner again? ”
“I don’t know!” she shouts, pushing her curls back from her face.
“But you know how much your family means to me!” I say, feeling a dam break inside of my chest. I know I’m being unfair—I know she’s hurting—but pain and panic boil over until I’m too worked up to stop the words burning inside of me. “Why did you cut me out of this?”
“I didn’t cut you out, I was trying to shield you,” she says, wiping a frustrated hand beneath her glasses. “You’ve always put us on this pedestal, thinking we’re this perfect sitcom family when the truth is, there have always been problems.”
“What problems?” I cry. “Up until tonight, your parents’ marriage is what made me believe that true love and supportive partnerships actually exist!”
Sofia makes an exasperated sound. “Gracie, I love my dad, but he is a narcissist. He loves playing the family man and treating you like his second daughter when you visit because it makes him look good. But haven’t you ever noticed that he doesn’t listen to anything anyone says?
How Mami fades into the background when he’s around?
” She wipes more tears away as anger suffuses her face.
“Maybe you can’t see it because he was always performing for you.
All his stories, the jokes, the big smiles…
he wanted you to see him as father of the year.
But the truth is…” She takes a stilted breath.
“The truth that we’ve all been coming to terms with is that he’s emotionally abusive—especially to Mami. ”
The world is upside-down and inside-out. “But you’ve never said anything,” I protest weakly, loathing myself for being unable, or unwilling, to see the truth, when the signs were always there.
“I used to try,” she says in a strained voice.
“But nothing compared to the situation you grew up in, did it? How could I complain to you, when your own family treated you like a burden they couldn’t wait to get rid of every chance they got?
I know how much you’ve relied on us for love and support.
You’d get so shaken if I even hinted that something was amiss that eventually, I just stopped. ”
Shame opens up inside of me, deep enough to swallow me whole. Did I really do that? Overlook her pain in the face of my own, and make her feel like she couldn’t confide in me?
“And lately—really, ever since Calvin broke up with you—I’ve been afraid to tell you anything,” she goes on.
“You said at the potluck that you want me to share what’s going on in my life, but you’ve been so fragile and afraid of leaving your little hobbit hole that I honestly didn’t think you could handle it! ”
Hurt steals my breath from me, and I’m left rigid and humiliated. “Well, I’m sorry my life is such a fucking mess that you feel like you have to treat me like a six-year-old,” I say eventually.
“That’s not what I’ve been—”
“Yes, you have,” I say, my fists clenched against my shorts.
“I’m sorry you haven’t felt like you could lean on me like I’ve leaned on you.
I hate that I made you feel that way. But I never asked to be protected from your heartache, or your family’s.
Did you ever think that maybe I want to be needed?
Instead of constantly feeling like the walking shit show in our friendship? ”
Sofia looks like she’s been slapped. “It was never my intention to make you feel like a shit show.”
“Well, it’s hard not to feel that way when we can’t have a conversation without you pushing me to take a studio space. When you don’t trust me to know what’s best for my own life or feel like you can even confide in me.”
At this, Sofia’s eyes widen. “Your happiness is the only reason I keep pushing you to get back in a studio and sew again. I’ve known you since we both believed in Santa Claus, and I can tell when you’re acting from a place of fear instead of joy.
And this whole bullshit scheme to try convincing Jude to keep Larkwood?
” she asks, circling a hand in the air. “It’s fear central!
I know you think you have some leverage with the cottage now, but you’re deluding yourself if you think he won’t figure out a way to get rid of the estate, Gracie! ”
I want to run away. Just sprint down this quiet suburban street until I disappear into the dark.
I think about last night, when Jude told me his plans for Larkwood haven’t changed.
But he also agreed to keep meeting up for wedding planning tasks, I tell myself to keep the panic at bay.
He said the meeting with Daphne had an impact.
Surely, if we keep going, I’ll have another chance to change his mind, right?
But what if he’s just running out the clock? an insidious little voice asks.
I don’t want to believe it. We’ve grown closer than I ever expected, and I want to think his feelings have changed since getting to know me and some of my vendors. I want to believe I still have a hope.
“Maybe you’re right,” I finally say, wiping the moisture from my face.
“Maybe losing so much has made me terrified of losing Larkwood, too. Maybe the smarter move would have been giving up on helping my friends and forgetting about Agatha’s wishes.
” I release a shuddering breath. “But Jude agreed to keep an open mind, and I’m going to see it through to the end. ”
After a moment, Sofia nods stiffly. “Then I guess you’d better get back to Larkwood.”
She starts the drive back to my car at her studio, and regret for every word I’ve said punches through me.
We both lashed out, and now the inches between us may as well be a chasm I have no idea how to cross.
I don’t know how to tell her how much I love her, and how badly I want her to lean on me—especially after she just gave me the chance and I fucked it up.
Some words simply can’t be taken back. So instead, we let them settle like stones between us, quietly nursing wounds we never wanted to give.
Desperately, I try to hold on to what’s left of my faith in love.
But in the silence, I can almost hear a muffled snap in the very center of my heart.