39. Grace
thirty-nine
Sensory imprinting
The smell of your skin: honey with a hint of lavender and jasmine
Proving my point, the next morning, Randy, Emerald Creek’s florist, delivers a gorgeous bouquet in tones of blues and golds to the spa. The envelope says Grace, and the note reads, Always thinking about you. It’s in Ethan’s handwriting, which means he planned this before leaving. And how sweet is that? Would I have gotten a gorgeous bouquet if he hadn’t left? I don’t think so.
It’s the silver lining of a long-distance relationship.
The proof that we can be unconventional. That our love is stronger than our geographical separation. Last night’s angst is flying out the window.
Randy and Claudia move a side table so we can set the bouquet at the entrance. “It elevates the whole place,” Randy points out.
I want it there so I can see it every time I come through the main room, which has to be a hundred times a day. I’m tempted to take it home, but I still have the smaller bouquet Ethan got me before leaving.
Randy clasps his hands together. “Oh gosh, Grace, I’m so happy for you. He’s such a catch!”
My heart swells. “Hey, he sure knows how to make his absence worthwhile. Your arrangements are gorgeous.”
Randy blushes. “Oh, thank you.”
After Randy leaves, I take a selfie in front of the bouquet to send to Ethan.
“Let me see?” Claudia says over my shoulder. “Let me get a better one.” She takes the phone from my hands and directs me to stand in front of the flowers.
Ethan hearts my message with the photo but doesn’t text back. He doesn’t call in the evening either.
That night, I Google How to dry a bouquet.
Funny-not funny
Your face when you rushed to your house thinking Damian was sick, and instead found me and your box of souvenirs
That day, I finally text the Bitch Brigade about Amy visiting the space. With Ethan having just left, I didn’t have it in me to talk about that, too, with my friends. But it’s time.
And now I have to fend off a slew of angry texts and plots for vengeance.
Which is exactly why I didn’t text them right after the fact. They might have been able to convince me to get on the warpath. And the truth is? There’s nothing I can do but move and start somewhere new. Richardson was right about not spending my money on a lost cause.
Even assholes are right sometimes.
Finally, Alex chimes in with something constructive.
Alex
Let’s take a look at the Mill. You might like it.
The Mill is a stone building alongside the river, three levels high if you count the basement level. It’s hosted artists co-ops, pop-up events, a yoga studio for a while. My theory was that none of these businesses survived there because the vibe wasn’t right for anything wellness centered. Add to that there is little light. But maybe it’s time I set my woo woo theories aside and be realistic about my future. Yeah, just like for my personal relationship. Be realistic, Grace.
Me
You’re right.
Ten minutes later, Alex texts me back.
Alex
We’re on for this afternoon.
“Anybody free to join?” I ask my staff while we’re sharing a quick lunch on the now-repaired deck, enjoying a rare moment when almost all of us are free at the same time. Only Hope is giving someone a facial.
“I’ll come, if I must,” Fabrizio sighs.
Shanice has been aimlessly running her fork in her quinoa salad since I started talking about moving. “Me too.”
“Anybody else?”
“I’ll hold down the fort,” Claudia says.
“I don’t want to manifest moving,” Cheyenne declares. “I’ll stay right here with Hope. She feels the same.”
That evening, Ethan calls me. “I’m sorry about last night, baby. It went on for hours. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I’m sprawled on the one lounge chair, drinking club soda. Damian is at my feet, squinting at the great outdoors, dying to explore it but too chicken to do anything about it. “You should’ve. You know you can call me anytime, day or night.” I don’t want to tell him how much I missed hearing his voice, but he needs to know there’s nothing I want more than to hear him.
“How was your day?” he asks me.
I tell him about the visit to the Mill. “Worst case, I’ll take it.” The Mill is like I remembered it, except that empty, it looked even more uninviting.
“Is it that bad?”
“No, but it’s just not… not anything like what I‘m offering now.”
“What’s it like?”
“A large empty space, very high ceilings, cool stone walls, dark cement floors. It screams tech company, not luxurious, pampering spa.”
“Gotcha,” he grunts. “Nothing else on the market?’
“A couple houses that are too small. But I’ll find something. Don’t worry about me.”
“I want to worry about you, Grace. In fact, it’s the only kind of worry I’m interested in, these days. Get used to it,” he grumbles in his low voice.
I want to touch him, see him, smell him. I switch the call to video. His face appears, grayish and vaguely distorted. “Hey, babe.”
“Wanted to share the sunset with you,” I say, pretending, switching away from the selfie view, taking in his features as he looks at his screen.
“I wish I was there. How’s my boy Damian?”
Damian pricks his ears at his name, and I angle the phone so Ethan can see him. “You taking care of my woman, cat?” he says, and why does him talking macho like that make me all mushy coming from him but all prickly when it’s Dad or Colton, or even Kyle? I wiggle in my chair, becoming bothered, in a good way, at all this sexiness.
I switch back to selfie view, we talk about nothing for a little bit, and then Ethan stifles a yawn. “You get some rest, sweetie,” I say, not allowing him to protest. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I switch the phone off after he tells me again how sexy I am and how much he misses me, then I stay on the lounge chair for a while, staring mindlessly at Woodbury Knoll.
When it’s past midnight I open an envelope.
My Proudest Moment
Holding you against your bedroom wall and managing not to fuck you although I wanted it so bad and I could tell you did too.
But you said otherwise, so I complied.
God that memory is hot. So hot.
Seared into my brain. I still feel his hand clasping my wrists over my head, his hard thigh under my clit, his breath teasing me.
That night, I fall asleep with my hand between my thighs.
The next morning he texts that he’ll be out of reach for the next few days, and day after day, all I have are his loves notes.
WTF
Your box of souvenirs. Freak out on so many levels.
And the Golden Globe goes to…
Grace Harper for best actress, pretending she doesn’t give two shits about Ethan King in the feature film Five Nights At The Arena, where she broke his heart one mug at a time.
Best and Strongest Memory From The Past
You in our treehouse, after our first time.
This one brings tears to my eyes, which in turn makes me pause. I realize I’ve not yet given myself the time and grace to look back into the past and acknowledge all the good I had with Ethan, years ago. After my initial rejection of him, I’ve been too focused on making sure we were still right for each other in this moment. Then, that it was okay to have a long-distance relationship.
We may seem to be different people because of our life experiences, but fundamentally we’re still the same. I’ll always remember Ethan’s loving attention when I gave myself to him—or more in fashion with eighteen-year-old Grace, bossed him around to have me. He was entirely focused on me, on my pleasure and comfort, from the way he aroused me with his kisses and caresses, to how he checked in on me, making sure I was still on board. To the way he cared for me, after.
At the time, I was solely focused on the way Ethan King came undone inside me, the magic of seeing his features transcended by his own orgasm.
I felt powerful. Invincible. Unique. I loved him fiercely, but failed to see how much he too loved me. I was insecure.
Now, I know. I know how he loved me then, and how he loves me now.
This kind of love resisted the test of time. It’ll stand the test of distance.
That day, I walk home to find a gorgeous bouquet of red and white roses waiting for me. There’s a card signed Ethan, but it’s not in his handwriting. Four simple words, “Miss you so much,” echo my sentiment exactly.
There’s another card, this one simple and white, with my spare key on it. The handwriting is identical to the one signed Ethan, and the message reads, “Ethan said I’d probably find your key under a fake rock next to your door, and if I did, to let myself in, lock myself out, and remind you this might be Emerald Creek, but danger lurks everywhere.
No key under the fake rock.
Randy
PS: Don’t kill the messenger
WTF # 2 – However
The fact you kept the twine ring I made you a quarter of a century ago just blows my mind. You’re the most loving and faithful person I know.
Least Proud Moment
You telling me Emerald Creek was my home, and me not daring to answer that you’re my home.
Oh, Ethan. My chin wobbles while I’m smiling at his admission. What a pair of fools we are, holding back on saying how much we love each other.
That day, I keep my phone with me at the spa, in case Ethan calls. The week is up. Surely he’ll call.
It’s nighttime when he finally does. “Hey, beautiful.” His voice is like a magical balm on a burn. It makes everything go away.
“Ethan,” I breathe. “I missed you. So much.”
“Sorry, babe,” he growls.
And then it hits me. I can’t be telling him that. Not when I’m sorta agreeing to a long-distance relationship. I can’t guilt-trip him. “I missed you in a good way,” I correct.
“Yeah well, I missed you in a real bad way.” Ohmygod, the growl in his voice makes my insides pulse. “Fuck, but I want to be with you right now. Wanna be inside you, if I’m honest.”
“Baby,” I whisper.
“Are you in bed?”
“On my couch.”
“Whatcha doin?”
“Stuffing my face with the chocolates you sent me.” Yesterday, Kiara came to the spa to deliver the box herself. “Good news is, Ethan’ll be happy to know there’s no key under the fake rock,” she said. “But I didn’t want to leave these outside in the sun.” Whispering, she added, “His instructions were they’re for you only.” So I brought the chocolates home (I did offer one to each of my staff), and now I’m indulging.
Ethan grunts. “You alone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Your voice is making me so hard right now. You’re using your horny voice. Am I right? You horny?”
“Fuck yeah,” I whisper.
“What are you wearing?”
“Um. Yoga pants and your jersey.”
“And under that?”
“Like a… a thong.”
“No bra?”
“N-no.”
“Fuck,” he growls.
My hand goes between my legs, and I wriggle on the couch. Feeling self-conscious, I run to the bedroom.
“Babe, say my name.”
“Ethan,” I whine.
“Are you touching yourself? Fuck, babe, you’re touching yourself, aren’t you.”
“Um…”
His breathing is labored on the phone, and the sound of fabric comes through. “My cock is beating for you, babe. It’s full and hard.”
I slide my yoga pants to my knees and push the thin strip of my G-string aside. “I’m so wet for you,” I whine.
“Fuck, babe. Now touch your breasts.”
“O-Okay.” I put the phone on loudspeaker and pinch my nipple with my other hand. “It’s not the same when it’s not you,” I complain.
“Shit. Tell me something. Anything.”
“I want to suck your cock.”
He grunts.
“And then I want you to have your way with me. What will you do to me when you see me, Ethan?”
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna make you come so loud, the church ladies will sign themselves when they see you in town. I’m gonna mark you, Grace. I’m gonna make you mine.”
I buck under his words, my fingers working my clit. “I’m coming, Ethan. I’m coming for you.”
He grunts softly, then lets out a long “fuuuck.”
We’re silent for a while. “You still there?” I ask, slightly out of breath.
“Yeah. Shit that wasn’t bad, but nothing like the real thing.”
“No.” The house is quiet. There’s no after sex cuddle. It feels a little… sad.
I stand and move back to the living room.
“Where you going?”
“To the living room.”
“I thought you were there already?”
I blush. “I moved to the bedroom when… when it started heating up.”
He growls. “No living room sex?”
I fill a glass of water. “It feels… it feels weird.”
He laughs softly. “We’ll work on that.”
Ohmygod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats in a chuckle. “God you’re cute. How was your week?”
“Nothing new with the lease yet. Waiting to get some sort of official notification. It’s a little nerve-wracking.” Then I tell him about Fabrizio freaking out after a client insisted on him giving her what he calls a Karen haircut. About Cheyenne finally entering a graphic arts competition. About the idea I had the other day, with the girls, that I just can’t let go of, of having my own line of products.
“I think that’s a great idea. Fuck Richardson and Amy. You’re gonna crush it no matter what. I just know it.”
That evening, after hanging up, I sort through my clothes and free up almost half my closet and a portion of my drawers.
A Freak-Out Moment—And I Want This Too
Skye looks so much like you, I thought she was your daughter.
Yeah, a lot of people think—Ohmygod!! What is he saying now? I reread the title, and then the note.
Am I understanding this correctly?
Ohmygod.
I think I am.
But I don’t think I want a child with a long-distance father. That doesn’t seem… on the other hand…
The next day, after dropping my clothes in the donation bin at the church, I text the girls.
Me
who’s down for a trip to the Grange?
Alex
Yup
Haley
Finally
Chloe
What’s the Grange again?
Kiara
Who’s buying
Autumn
I have a discount there
Chloe
I remember now. LOVE THAT PLACE
Me:
Kay we’ll need 2 cars. Sunday work for everyone?
My last message gets varied emojis and no protests. It’s a date.
The Grange is a large consignment barn that doesn’t accept people’s crap, but rather serves as an outlet for furniture stores, high-end hotels revamping their still-good furniture, and the occasional treasure from an estate. The day we meet up is hot as hell, and we’re all in shorts and tank tops. Alex brought Skye with her, and she jumps into my arms. “Alek-zandra said I could have a princess bed. Will you help me look for one?’
“If you’ll help me look for a dining room table and chairs and stuff for the deck.”
Skye wiggles out of my arms, grabs my hand, and drags me inside. Stopping in her tracks, she frowns. “What kinda stuff?”
Heck if I know. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Well, I know exactly what my princess bed needs to look like.”
But Skye is just like the rest of us females, and she gets sucked in, forgetting her initial goal. Going to the Grange is like stepping inside a time warp. We go from find to treasure, calling each other out, taking photos, sneezing in the dust. At least it’s cool inside.
“Okay, what do we got?” Autumn calls out at some point. “I have two contenders for a dining room table and chairs, and options for the deck.”
“I found twelve cute as hell old school tables.”
“I found five vintage sinks.”
“How about this century-old pile of bricks for a built-in barbecue?”
“I like this for the deck,” I say. It’s a wide wicker couch with an ottoman just as wide.
“Nice,” Autumn says. “It can double as a lounge chair for two.” She writes something down on a notepad and mumbles, “Let’s see if they’ll throw in the two matching armchairs. Now, what we came for in the first place. Outdoor dining.” Autumn points out several large metallic tables. “They’re foldable. You could store it somewhere in the winter, so it doesn’t age too fast. They have matching chairs and pillows in perfect condition. If you don’t like the patterns they have, we can have new ones made.” These tables seem huge, like they could fit eight people easy. Soft excitement courses through my veins as I choose one of the patterns among the three or four they have—a bayadere stripe in tones of red and orange that just screams happy summer.
Autumn scribbles in her notepad, then says, “Now lemme show you what I found for the dining room.”
We clear the tables so we can examine them properly. To my great embarrassment, Autumn points out every sign of wear to the two sales people now following us like their next paycheck depends on us (which might be the case). Turns out, they’re not offended, and we get a good price.
I set my choice on an English-style farmhouse table in natural pine and distressed white, with four matching chairs and two armchairs. The Grange employees throw in an area rug and a cute tray with heart-shaped cutouts.
While they haul my purchases to the front under Autumn’s watchful eyes, the other girls roam the aisles some more. No princess bed for Skye here, but everyone still has a thing or two they couldn’t possibly live without. When we’re all paid for and gathered in the parking lot, we’re stuck with a problem.
“That’ll never fit in any of the cars.”
Haley calls Justin. “Our future sister-in-law needs a moving truck,” she says, laughing into the phone. My belly does a full flip. What did she just call me?
Skye squeaks. “Did Uncle Ethan propose?”
“No, honey, he did not. Haley is just being… facetious.”
“Fashy…?”
“Silly.”
Haley hangs up. “The guys are on their way. They said to leave everything here.”
“Can we go for ice cream?” Skye squeaks.
“This one’s got her priorities right,” Kiara says. “Come on, sunshine.”
“Let’s go to that place down by the river. Remember?” Chloe says.
A half hour later, we’re all holding ice creams, our feet in the cool stream. “Can we go and set up Aunt Grace’s house now?” Skye asks.
“We have to wait,” Alex says.
“For what?”
“For the guys to have everything delivered to Grace’s. If we get there and help, they’re gonna say we’re in the way,” Haley explains.
“What Haley means is, let the guys do the heavy lifting,” Kiara says.
“Shoot,” I say.
“What?”
“My key. It’s no longer under the rock. They won’t be able to get in.” I should have left it there. “I’ll go. You guys stay here and relax.”
“Can I come with you?” Skye asks.
“Course!”
She runs to my car and sits in her bolster seat. “This is exciting,” she declares as she wiggles her little body so I can fasten her seatbelt. “Is this a surprise for Uncle Ethan?”
“Not really, but kinda.”
“I like him. He’s big.”
I have to laugh at that.
“I hope he proposes. Daddy is going to propose to Alex.”
Warmth and excitement courses through my veins. “Oh, honey! Are you happy?”
“Sooo happy. But you can’t tell Alex. I’m helping him organize it.”
“Of course not.” My smile won’t go away.
After we pull into my driveway, I open the door to the guys who are unloading my new furniture. Then I give my cousin a big hug. “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper. He deserves this happiness so much. He never gave up on Alex.
He squeezes me back. “Happy for you, too, Gracie. You’ll get there too.”
We all forge our paths our own way. One step at a time.
Two hours later, my house looks fantastic. Colton, Justin, and Chris brought everything in, in no time, set it up, and moved everything around until I was satisfied. Now the girls are showing up with food, and we’re setting up to have a proper barbecue. Skye and Alex give me a set of linen napkins. Autumn brings yet another vase ‘for all the flowers you’re going to get.’
Haley hugs me when she sees the house and says, “I had the feeling you might want to wait until Ethan’s back to throw a housewarming party. So the gifts’ll wait.”
I look at Justin throwing flank steaks on the barbecue and Chris slicing breads. Chloe sets a salad in the center of the outdoor table. Alex lights a few candles to keep the mosquitos away, then helps Autumn arrange a string of bistro lights on the deck’s perimeter. Colton is setting the table under Skye’s directions, while Kiara is arranging a display of mini cakes on a three-tiered dish she bought at the Grange. “This turned into way more than I expected,” I whisper, moved to tears.