Chapter 2
Grace tried to make herself forget about lunch with Brooklyn.
It should have been easy. She had a business to run, invoices to approve, a client proposal due by Friday, and a wedding that could not possibly be ruined by one woman who smiled too much and spoke about Luke as if she had partial ownership.
For two days, Grace told herself she was being unfair.
Brooklyn had known Luke since they were children.
That was not a crime. Brooklyn had loved his family long before Grace came along.
Also not a crime. Brooklyn had offered to help with the wedding, and Grace had accepted, however reluctantly, which meant it was unreasonable to resent her for doing what she had been invited to do.
Except Grace had not invited her to do anything yet.
That was the part her mind kept returning to while she answered emails, joined video calls, and stood at her kitchen counter eating dinner from a cardboard takeout container because she had forgotten to go grocery shopping again.
Brooklyn had been made a bridesmaid on Sunday.
By Tuesday, she had texted Grace twelve times.
None of the messages were offensive. Grace read them all twice, as if some hidden meaning might reveal itself if she stared long enough.
Do you have a wedding Pinterest board yet? No pressure, just excited.
Elaine mentioned you’re thinking late summer? So gorgeous.
Luke hates being too hot, though, so maybe nothing outdoors before six. Not trying to overstep!
Just saw these napkins and thought of you.
Okay, last one, I swear. This venue has the prettiest courtyard. Ignore me if you already hate it.
Every message ended with some variation of no pressure, ignore me, only trying to help, or tell me to stop.
It made Grace feel petty for wanting her to stop.
On Wednesday afternoon, Grace was in her office reviewing a marketing strategy deck when her phone rang. She almost ignored it, but the screen showed Petals & Pine, the florist she and Luke had visited the previous week.
She answered with her professional voice still in place.
“Hi, this is Grace.”
“Grace, hi! It’s Melissa from Petals & Pine. I promise I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to say it was so lovely meeting Brooklyn this morning.”
Grace’s hand went still on her mouse.
“Brooklyn?”
“Yes. She stopped by earlier.”
The office around Grace seemed to quiet. Beyond the glass wall, her assistant crossed the hallway with a stack of folders. Someone laughed near the coffee machine. The ordinary sounds of a workday continued without her.
Grace sat back slowly. “She stopped by the florist?”
“Yes. Just to introduce herself. She said she was one of your bridesmaids.”
“She is.”
Technically.
“She was very sweet,” Melissa said. “She kept saying she didn’t want to step on your toes, which I thought was thoughtful.”
Grace looked down at the legal pad beside her laptop. She had written three notes about ad spending and a reminder to call the bakery. Her handwriting suddenly looked too dark against the yellow paper.
“What exactly did she want?”
“Oh, nothing specific. She said she knew Luke’s family really well and wanted to make sure she understood the vision, especially because the Morettis have such a large extended family.”
Of course she had said that. It was perfectly reasonable. A bridesmaid helping with family logistics. A childhood friend making sure nothing was missed. A thoughtful woman making herself useful.
Grace forced herself to keep her tone mild. “Did she ask you to change anything?”
“No. Not at all. She was very clear that this was your wedding.”
The phrase landed like a bead of water dropped onto a hot pan.
This was your wedding.
Yours.
As if Luke belonged to a separate category entirely, one Brooklyn understood and Grace was being allowed to decorate around.
Grace closed her eyes.
“That’s good,” she said.
“She did mention that Luke probably wouldn’t love anything too formal,” Melissa continued, warming as she spoke. “Which actually helped me understand the balance you’re going for. Elegant, but not stiff.”
Grace opened her eyes.
Elegant, but not stiff, was almost exactly what she had said to Melissa at their appointment. Grace had said it while Luke held her hand under the table and nodded because he genuinely did like the idea. They had both liked the idea. They had been happy.
Now Brooklyn had repeated it, translated it, placed herself inside it.
“I see,” Grace said.
Melissa must have sensed something in her voice because she hesitated. “I hope that was okay. I assumed you knew she was coming.”
“No,” Grace said, then softened it immediately because Melissa had done nothing wrong. “But I’m sure she meant well.”
“She seemed very excited for you.”
Grace stared at the word “fiduciary” on her screen until it blurred.
“I’m sure she is.”
After she hung up, Grace remained very still.
There was nothing to accuse Brooklyn of.
That was what made it so uncomfortable.
She had not changed the flowers. She had not pretended to be Grace. She had not lied to the florist. She had walked into a shop during business hours, introduced herself as a bridesmaid, and said things that sounded supportive.
If Grace objected, what would she even say?
Please don’t visit vendors without me because it makes me feel replaced.
Please don’t use your history with Luke’s family as currency.
Please don’t make everyone think you understand my fiancé better than I do.
She could hear the response before anyone gave it.
Grace, she was only trying to help.
Her phone buzzed while she was still looking at it.
A text from Brooklyn.
Just stopped by Petals & Pine because I was literally two blocks away and realized I should introduce myself in case you ever need me to pick something up or handle something last minute. Melissa is adorable. You chose so well.
Grace read it three times.
Then she set the phone facedown on her desk.
She did not answer.
At six-thirty, Luke arrived at her house with Thai food, a bottle of wine, and a smile that almost undid the mood she had been building all afternoon.
Almost.
He let himself in with the key she had given him months ago. Grace heard the door open from where she stood at the sink washing lettuce she no longer wanted to eat.
“Don’t cook,” he called. “I brought noodles.”
“I’m not cooking.”
He appeared in the kitchen doorway, carrying a paper bag in one hand and wine in the other. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled, hair mussed from a day of running his hands through it. He looked tired and pleased to see her, and because Grace was angry, the sight of him made her eyes sting.
That annoyed her.
Luke noticed immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
His expression changed. “Bad kind of nothing, or actual nothing?”
Grace turned off the water. “Brooklyn stopped by the florist today.”
Luke set the bag on the counter. “Okay.”
That one word told her enough. Not everything, but enough.
Okay.
Not why.
Not she did what?
Not I’m sorry.
Just okay.
Grace picked up a towel and dried her hands. “You knew?”
“No. But she mentioned she might.”
“When?”
He leaned his hip against the counter, trying to remember. “Yesterday maybe? She texted me asking who we were using, and I told her.”
Grace stared at him.
He realized his mistake a second too late.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Why did she need to know who our florist was?”
“I don’t know. She said Mom was asking.”
“Your mother has my number.”
“Grace.”
There was no sharpness in his voice. Somehow that made it worse. He sounded patient. Calm. Slightly confused by the size of the thing in front of him.
Grace folded the towel with more care than necessary and laid it beside the sink.
“What did she say to you?”
“Who? Brooklyn?”
“Yes.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “Just that she wanted to be helpful. That she knows Mom will get intense, and she thought maybe she could run interference.”
“For me?”
“For us.”
Grace laughed once, very softly.
Luke’s gaze sharpened. “What?”
“She doesn’t run interference for me, Luke. She runs interference around me.”
He straightened. “What does that mean?”
“It means she didn’t ask if I wanted her to go to the florist. She didn’t ask what I needed. She didn’t say, ‘Hey, Grace, I’m near Petals & Pine, do you want me to stop in?’ She asked you who the florist was, and then she went.”
Luke was quiet for a moment.
When he spoke, he sounded careful. “I can see why that would bother you.”
“But?”
“I didn’t say but.”
“You were about to.”
His mouth tightened.
Grace looked away first because she knew him well enough to know he was trying.
He was not dismissing her. Not entirely.
That was what made arguing with him so difficult.
Luke didn’t bulldoze. He didn’t mock. He took in enough of what she said to seem reasonable, then quietly filed the rest under misunderstanding.
He came closer. “I’m on your side.”
“Are you?”
Hurt crossed his face.
She regretted it immediately. Then she didn’t. Because some part of her had needed to ask.
Luke set both hands on the edge of the counter. “Yes.”
“Then why do I feel like I have to build a court case before I can tell you something feels wrong?”
He exhaled slowly. “Because you’re talking about one of my oldest friends.”
“I know that.”
“And because from what you’ve told me, she went to a florist and said she wanted to help.”
Grace looked at him. There it was, the reasonable version. The version that stripped out tone, pattern, history, ownership, and the way Brooklyn had said she knew Luke so well in every possible conversation.
“She also told Melissa you don’t like anything too formal.”
“I don’t.”
Grace’s chest tightened. “I know you don’t.”
“I know you know.”
“Then why did she need to say it?”
Luke’s answer did not come.
Grace picked up the untouched lettuce and dropped it into the salad spinner because her hands needed something to do.
“I don’t know,” he said finally.
“Okay.”
“Grace.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s clearly not fine.”
“No, it isn’t.” She turned back to him. “But I don’t know how to explain this without sounding jealous.”
“You’re allowed to be jealous.”