Chapter 34 Jude
One Week Before the Wedding
This morning, as I was walking into court for the emergency hearing I motioned for, I got a text from Henry that read: “Congrats, Judy, you’re the official new owner of your least favorite place on Earth! Still on for lunch today? You’re buying.”
Thankfully, I managed to keep my focus on my client, but now that the hearing is over, all the worries I compartmentalized have crawled back out of the box I stuffed them in. But I don’t have time to spiral.
I rush into Nick’s ten minutes late and find Henry at our usual table near a big window, waving me down. Trying not to look like I’m walking to my own execution instead of lunch with my best friend, I accept his handshake and quick back-slapping hug as he stands to greet me.
“Hey, man! I was starting to get worried you’d been eaten alive by your client’s respondent.”
I unbutton my jacket as I sit, remembering my client’s full-body relief when I told her it would just be us and the judge today. “Nah, no respondent, it was ex parte. Sorry I’m late.”
He waves my apology away. “The wheels of justice are slow, blah, blah, blah. I just hope you saved some room for lunch. I ordered the fried squash blossoms, and you’re not allowed to make me eat them by myself.”
Henry’s eyes won’t meet mine. To anyone else, he might sound completely normal, but there’s an artificial brightness to his voice that has me on edge. Is it because of Gracie? She said she ended things with him, but despite my efforts to call and text, he’s been evading me since it happened.
The server comes to take the rest of our order, interrupting my thoughts, and I tack on a gin and tonic at the last second.
Henry raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that a celebration G and T or an ‘oh god, help me numb the pain’ G and T?”
I lean back in my chair, tossing my menu onto the table. “Can it be both?”
“I guess we could call it a ‘Good and Tragic’ instead.”
I snort. “Perfect.”
“And so, the tragic half of it”—he takes a sip of water—“I’m assuming it’s mansion-shaped and filled with secrets?”
I resist running a hand through my hair.
Becoming the official owner of Larkwood was never going to feel great.
But at the very least, I have a plan to get rid of it.
After learning my mom’s decision to stay with my father, I’ve resettled on my original plans for Larkwood’s future.
I just need to find a way to make Gracie understand.
“Judy?”
I look up from the fork I’ve been nudging into place. “Sorry,” I answer. “There’s actually something else on my mind.”
Henry nods like he’s been expecting it. “Gracie.”
Jesus, am I that obvious? Can he see my heart beating for her right through my shirt, or did I black out and get her name tattooed on my forehead?
“Yeah,” I say, throat dry, glancing around for our server. Where the hell is my “Good and Tragic”?
He tilts his head, considering me. “She really wanted to change your mind about selling it, man. When are you going to tell her that she didn’t?”
It’s not what I expected him to say, but my guilt has a whole collection of knives, and this one slices through me, quick and bloodless.
“This weekend,” I say quietly, not above praying for a miracle that she’ll forgive me.
“And how long is she going to have to move out and find a place to live?” he asks. “Seems like you’re getting pretty down to the wire if you’re planning on selling in early August.”
“I’m not going to let her be homeless,” I say, sharper than I intended. “I have a plan.”
No matter what happens, she’ll be okay. I’ll make fucking sure of it. But the look he gives me—like he doubts I could ever care for Gracie the way she deserves—dives directly beneath my skin and starts burning me from the inside out.
“Well,” he says, “I know she’s probably got friends she could stay with, but I’m going to offer to let her crash with me, just in case.
” His brows knit together as he exhales.
“She ended things between us, but it doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about her.
And if it leads to a second chance…” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”
Fuck, fuck fuck. A sick, empty feeling in my chest swallows any response I could make. By some miracle, the server arrives at that moment with my drink. He also has a platter of fried squash blossoms, but the smell turns my stomach. I reach for my drink instead, taking a long pull.
“Thirsty much?” Henry asks, laughing uneasily when I put the half-empty glass down.
“Hen, listen,” I say, leaning forward. “I said I had a plan for Gracie, and I do. I was actually going to ask her to stay with me while she finds a place of her own.”
At first, Henry can only stare at me. Then he smiles like he’s just cottoned onto a really bad joke. “Right, okay,” he says, plucking a blossom from the platter and taking a bite. “Fuck that’s delicious,” he mutters, before wiping his hands and mouth with his napkin.
“I’m not kidding,” I say, carefully watching his reaction.
“I didn’t say you were,” he responds, and this time, there’s no trace of levity on his face. “I know you feel bad for leaving her in a tight spot,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure you have a better chance of growing a second dick than getting her to stay with you. Never stop dreaming though, bud.”
Stomach churning, I say quietly, “I think she might, though.”
Henry takes in my expression, and his jaw flexes. “What are you talking about?
At my miserable silence, he goes still. “You didn’t.” He stops. Lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Jesus. You didn’t actually take my advice seriously, did you?”
I blink at him. “What advice?”
“Back when I first told you about the cottage going to Gracie. I said if you wanted it so badly, you should just seduce her.” He shakes his head, disbelief flickering across his face. “It was a fucking joke, man.”
Heat rises in my chest, so hot my vision blurs around the edges. I refuse to even dignify that accusation with a response.
Slowly, clearly, I say, “Things have changed between Gracie and me. We’ve gotten closer.”
Henry’s eyes pinch closed as he brings a hand up to rub his forehead. He nods to himself, like this is exactly what he should have expected. “You mean you fucked her,” he says in a quiet voice. “That’s why she ended things with me.”
I will myself not to get upset. Of course he’s angry, I tell myself. You knew he’d be angry.
“It’s more than that,” I say as steadily as I can.
“Okay,” he says, tossing his napkin on the table.
“Let’s forget for a moment that you knew I liked her and that you promised you’d stay away.
Are you trying to tell me that you’re suddenly capable of something more than sinking into whatever warm body you find for the night? Because that would be news to me.”
Pressure begins building in my body, slow but unstoppable. It takes everything I’ve got to stay calm when I say, “I didn’t know either, but this is different. This could be something more.”
“Christ,” he says under his breath, looking out the window. “Just like last time.”
“Excuse me?”
He looks at me, and there’s exhaustion in his eyes. “Priya. Remember that name?”
In the seconds it takes for my mind to scramble in this unexpected direction, Henry rolls his eyes and lets out a laugh that feels like a slap. “Of course not.”
“No, I do remember her,” I say, grateful to have landed on the memory, even if it took me a second. “Priya Agarwal. Our TA from Property Law. Fucking brilliant.”
“But not brilliant enough for you to actually date her. To give a shit about her feelings.”
I frown, trying to remember the details of a hookup that happened years ago. Vaguely, I remember her being disappointed when I said I wasn’t looking for something serious, but in my mind, we’d gone our separate ways amicably. Was I wrong?
“I’m sorry, but what does Priya have to do with anything?” I ask, getting frustrated.
“I was crazy about her, that’s what,” he says. “But, of course, she didn’t have eyes for anyone but you, did she?”
I’m at a loss, feeling more and more like a dick every passing second. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if I’d known, Henry.”
“But you did know,” he accuses, pointing at me.
“You knew it, but I told you to go ahead if you felt like it could turn into something real. So you did, even though it never went anywhere because it never does. And now you’re doing the same goddamn thing with Gracie.
Except this time, you didn’t even ask me.
And now, you’re going to fuck around until you get bored, or you’re too threatened by actually feeling something, and then who the hell do you think she’s going to come running to?
” Henry’s eyes are wide and distraught. “Who do you think Priya came running to, begging to know the way to my best friend’s heart, while you moved on to the next girl?
Gracie doesn’t deserve it, Jude. She deserves someone who can love her and—”
“I do love her,” I blurt, loud enough to make people at nearby tables look around at us.
But the pressure that’s been steadily building inside of me finally reaches a boiling point.
“I love her, Hen,” I say hoarsely, heart pounding at the admission.
“That’s got to be what this is, right?” I ask him desperately.
“Feeling like I’m dying when she isn’t with me?
Feeling like I’m dying when she is, because I know she isn’t mine?
” He’s staring at me like I’ve suddenly started speaking in tongues, and maybe I have.
“You… love her,” he repeats slowly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing he knew how much I meant it.
“I’m so sorry about Priya, and what a clueless, insensitive prick I’ve been to you.
You’re my best friend, and I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but yes.
If there’s any chance Gracie might feel a fraction of what I feel for her, then I’m going to try to make it work. ”
“And you actually think she’ll want you after the bomb you’re about to drop on her?”
I shake my head, wincing. “I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s any hope. But even if she hates me after all of this, I’m not going to leave her high and dry.” I swallow hard. “I’m going to take care of her.”
“And has she told you this is what she wants? Has she said she feels the same way?”
I shake my head, wishing I had a different answer to give. “No. She has even less reason to trust me than you do. She’s protecting herself, but I know she feels something for me, too.”
“And did you ever think that maybe you should just leave her the hell alone?”
I rub a hand over my eyes, hating myself for the truth. “I tried. I knew she’d be better off with you—you’re everything she deserves. But I was too fucking selfish and she—” I stop, not wanting to hurt him more than I already have.
“She wanted you, too,” he finishes for me.
Henry is staring at me like he’s never seen me in full color before. I don’t have it in me to tell him how little he actually knows.
“You have to promise me that you’re not going to throw her away,” he says eventually. “You’ve already put her through enough, Jude.”
“I swear it,” I tell him. “I’m hers for as long as she’ll put up with me.”
Henry shakes his head and looks down at the cold squash blossoms. I catch a faint, disbelieving breath of laughter from him. “Jude Larkwood in love. Is it as terrifying as you always imagined?”
I sink both hands into my hair. “So much worse.”
Henry leans forward on his elbows, bitterness still lacing his voice. “Want some advice?”
“Anything.”
“Be honest with her,” he says. “You think you have to protect everyone with your secrets, but hiding things from the people you love, even when you think you have the best intentions…” He leans back in his chair and suddenly looks exhausted.
“Let’s just say I know from personal experience how hurtful it is not to be trusted. ”
“Henry—”
“Don’t apologize. I know this is a you thing and not about me. But Gracie hasn’t had years to adjust to your bullshit. She won’t understand, and your secrets will hurt her if they haven’t already. So… just be honest. As honest as you can.”
He told me not to apologize, but all the years of keeping him in the dark are pressing down against me like the heel of a boot.
I want to tell him how close I came to telling her everything—about Larkwood, my past, and my present.
But in the end, I couldn’t. Just like I’ve never been able to tell him.
“Okay,” I say, throat constricted. “I promise to try, and I am sorry. For everything.”
He nods, and if he has anything more to say on the subject, I don’t find out, because at that moment, our server comes back with our main courses.
“Were the zucchini blossoms not to your liking?” he asks, looking at the nearly full plate.
Henry gives him a tight smile. “They were great. But my poor friend here is too lovesick to eat a thing.”
Our server gives me a sympathetic look. “We’re all waiting for that vaccine. Can I get you another drink?”
“Make it two,” Henry says, and I’m so filled with gratitude for his willingness to sit with me—to somehow forge a way past this—that I hardly register his next muttered words. “I think I need one more than he does.”