Chapter 21 Jude #2
“You’re incredibly talented” is what breaks loose in a hoarse scratch when I’m finally able to speak. “This is what you should be doing, Gracie. Not running errands for a bunch of newlyweds.”
Her smile disappears. “It’s a lot more than running errands,” she says. “Believe it or not, planning the happiest day of someone’s life is pretty fulfilling.”
Good going, dickhead. I close my eyes. “I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say.” I meet her gaze again. “I guess my ‘shriveled little raisin of a heart’ hasn’t fully rehydrated.”
I’m relieved to see a reluctant smile tug at her lips. “It’s okay. I’ve had my prejudices about your work, too.” She pauses. “But Henry really went to bat for you tonight. He helped me see a new perspective, maybe.”
“Jesus. I really don’t deserve him, do I?”
“Definitely questionable after yesterday,” she says softly, and it’s the closest we’ve come to brushing up against the one thing we shouldn’t talk about. But as usual, she sweeps away all my best intentions with one drop of her lashes.
“Did you have a good time with him tonight?”
She’s shifted closer to me. I know I’m not imagining it because I’m halfway to drowning in her scent of honeyed flowers.
“I did,” she says. “He’s nice, charming, thoughtful. Everything I’ve been hoping for.”
“That’s… great,” I despair.
“Really great,” she agrees, but she doesn’t sound convinced either.
“So did he get a kiss good night?” I ask, my voice a low, possessive rumble that’s light years away from the casual tone I was aiming for.
Her eyes flick up to mine, and I hear her swallow. “No. We didn’t kiss.”
Her words are like a match striking up my spine. If I were a decent person, I’d be disappointed for my friend. But right now, with relief pounding in my veins, decency feels like a rope that just slid out of my desperate grip.
“I’m sure he wanted to,” I say, speaking directly from personal experience.
Her lashes dip. “Before yesterday, I thought we would. But I’m not sure we have that kind of chemistry.” When her eyes meet mine again, I know we’re both thinking of the cake shop. Citrus and rose, dark chocolate and coffee. The dark flutter of her lashes when my mouth found her pulse.
“Not like us.” It comes out hushed, like a secret only we know.
She shakes her head. I shift closer. “It didn’t mean anything,” she insists. “We both just got caught up in the game you started.”
The words sting because it was the first time a kiss was more than nothing to me, and from the way she’s looking at me, she knows it.
“Then what are we caught up in right now?” I ask, clocking the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about that kiss?”
Her breath audibly catches, and I know she feels this, too. Unable to stop myself, I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her skin. Her eyes drift shut, and I’m mesmerized by the sheen of her eyelids and parted lips.
“We could try this, couldn’t we?” I hear myself bargaining. “If we just stopped this bullshit over Larkwood and you let me pay for this cottage, we could—”
But I don’t get to finish my desperate, punch-drunk words because her eyes snap open. “Excuse me?”
“Wait,” I say as she takes a step back from me.
“I can’t believe you,” she says, shaking her head as though to clear it.
“Gracie, listen—”
“Trying to convince me to sell the cottage when you’ve got me so—” The color of her cheeks deepens as she cuts herself off. “Is this some kind of tactic? Is all of this just to manipulate me?” she demands, gesturing frantically between our chests.
“No, of course not,” I say, stepping back, horrified. “I’d never do that to you.”
“How can I believe you? You charmed Betty into doing what you wanted. You lied to the bartender to get her off your back.”
“That was different—” I start to explain, but she keeps going, ignoring me.
“You told Henry to ask me out! You promised you wouldn’t kiss me, and then you did it anyway. You said it wouldn’t happen again, but here you are! Touching me in my bedroom! Making it impossible to think, or breathe, or—”
“Only because I can’t fucking stay away from you!” It flies out of me, as reckless as it is honest. Her eyes widen, and I know I should stop, but hours of restless pacing, of beating myself up for being the shittiest friend, and replaying our kiss have frayed me to threads.
“Do you think I enjoy feeling completely out of control?” I demand.
“That I want to spend all my free time doing wedding chores for your ex? Do you think I want to betray my best friend?” I ask, shoving a hand through my unkempt hair.
“No. But apparently, nothing is too low for me if it means I get to be with you. To breathe the same fucking air as you and hope for some stupid excuse to touch you.” The laugh that emerges from me is unhinged and desperate.
“Even the way you glare at me has me up at night, wishing you’d just take it all out on me.
Because I know I can’t have you. But I’d rather be your villain than nothing at all, Gracie. ”
Her eyes are wide with shock, but confessing a fraction of what I’ve been trying to repress is such a relief that I can’t begin to regret it. Not yet.
“Jude,” she says, seemingly at a loss. “It’s not that I don’t— That I haven’t thought about—” She stops, gathering herself.
“Tonight, I didn’t kiss Henry because I was thinking about you, and it didn’t feel fair to him.
But you and I don’t work,” she says, shutting her eyes like she’s been around this merry-go-round from hell as many times as I have.
“We want completely different futures for Larkwood. For our personal lives. And while Henry and I might not have… whatever this is, I promised I’d give him a chance.
He wants to find love, and so do I, but we won’t have a future together if I keep ending up like this with you. ”
Her words sober me enough to see with eye-watering clarity how selfish I’ve been.
Because she’s right—she and Henry deserve to be together, and I’m the fucking guy with the flash cards from Love Actually, trying to ruin everything.
I lift a hand to rub my eyes, too ashamed and wrung out by guilt to look at her.
“God, I’m sorry,” I say quietly. It’s a moment before I can speak again.
“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I won’t visit again.
Won’t touch you again. You don’t have to worry about me standing in the way,” I swear, forcing myself to meet her gaze.
“You and Henry deserve every happiness.”
She gives a short nod, but there’s no relief on her face. “And our deal? Are you still open to having your mind changed about Larkwood?”
My chest constricts. “I’m still planning to get rid of it,” I say heavily. “My mind hasn’t changed, but if you want to keep trying until the wedding, then we can keep going.”
The disappointment radiating off her is palpable, but she nods again. “I know we’re only four weeks away,” she says, “but I want to keep trying to convince you.”
“Okay,” I say, determined to uphold my end of the bargain. “Just text me who we’re meeting next and I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I’ll walk you out, then.”
With nothing left to say, I follow her out, and there’s a finality to every step. Every burning question I had tonight was answered, but instead of providing any kind of solace, all that’s left behind are scorch marks.
But somehow, they’ll have to be enough.