Chapter 3
Gracie
Dinner is a relaxed affair, everyone swapping stories over honey-glazed ham and scalloped potatoes. I spear a green bean with my fork, feeling like I’ve been swallowing rocks more than anything else, unable to force the feeling away.
Braxton is sitting on my right, his hand often resting on my knee, fingers stroking my thigh through my linen pants.
Joseph and Esther are sitting at each end, while Paisley is across from me, Nick beside her.
The conversation has been flowing, laughter coming easily as they reminisce about Braxton, Nick, and Paisley’s high school days.
Nothing about it should send warning bells ringing. Paisley and Braxton don’t share lingering glances, neither of them acting out of the ordinary, and as the night wears on, I convince myself that what I witnessed doesn’t mean anything.
He grew up with her, just like Nick.
It’s been four years.
They missed each other, just like you would miss any sister of your best friend.
I start to relax, but then I remember the way his green eyes tracked Paisley across the room as she moved away from me, and my stomach drops all over again.
Braxton finishes his pumpkin pie, sitting back with a groan. “Oh my god. I almost need to loosen my pants.”
Esther laughs. “You didn’t need to have the second piece.”
He gives an exaggerated frown. “Yes, I did.”
She rolls her eyes at him before turning to ask Nick something. As she does, Braxton leans into me, his breath brushing over my nape and making my skin pimple with goose bumps.
“You look tired, baby.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, resting my hand against his when he places it back on my leg. I stroke my fingers across his knuckles, his skin familiar, reassuring myself that one evening can’t change everything so quickly.
“We can go soon if you like,” he offers, just as Nick tells him, “I got that new video game we were talking about, Brax. Come check it out.”
Braxton pauses, eyes flicking between us, but I pat his hand. “Go on. I’m going to help Esther tidy up.”
“Okay, baby,” he says gently, leaning to press a soft kiss to my cheek. I smile, leaning into his touch, but when I look up, my eyes lock with Paisley’s brown ones across the table, her brow furrowed.
She looks away, smiling at her mother. “I’ll help take everything into the kitchen, but then I told Justine I would call her.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” Esther says cheerfully. “Between Gracie and me, we’ll get everything squared away in no time.”
I smile my agreement, standing up and stacking the plates to carry them into the kitchen. We make quick work of clearing the table, Esther and Paisley chatting away, neither of them noticing when I don’t say much.
Paisley leaves as I’m filling the sink with sudsy water, Esther slotting in beside me with a dish towel in hand. “How’s work been?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested.
I take a plate, scrubbing it a little too vigorously, the water sloshing over the side of the sink.
“It’s always a little quieter as we head into the colder season,” I say absent-mindedly.
“But Maryann got married a week ago, and she’s left for an extended honeymoon, so we’re short-staffed for the next month. ”
“I admire you, you know,” Esther says. “I’ve seen what you can create. I buy a wreath every year from Blossom Boutique, even if I’m not home. I’ve never been creative like that, but I have always wished I were.”
I shoot her a small smile. “Your cooking is pretty creative. I’m sure Braxton would argue that your pies are masterpieces.”
Esther laughs. “You’re not wrong. When I met Joseph, he had a whole league of women after him.” She wrinkles her nose at the memory. “There’s something about a firefighter that just makes the girls go crazy. I knew I needed to stand out.”
“What did you do?”
“I showed up at the station once a week with baking. Originally, I’d go every day, but I thought that was a little over the top. I didn’t want to scare him off, you know?”
I snort when Esther grins at me.
“Anyway, you name it, and I had it. Baskets of cupcakes, cookies, and muffins. These little coconut balls. I always kept them in this cute little wicker basket with a ribbon wrapped around the handle. Aesthetic purposes, you see? You have to wrap the package nicely, which is why I also wore my best dresses—the kind that flare in a little wind and show off your calves.”
I stare down into the bubbles covering the water’s surface. “Did it work?”
“Joseph put up a good fight, but my mama always told me the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Esther bobs her eyebrows playfully. “Plus, he didn’t like the other men eating my food.”
Her voice is muffled as a slow-moving poison sludges through my body, leaving an ache everywhere it touches. “Jealousy is a good motivator,” I say, handing her another plate, forcing a lightness into my tone that I don’t feel.
Esther dries the dish and puts it away before sending me a thoughtful look. “Are you alright, Gracie? You look a little pale.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a big day, and a long week.”
She eyes me curiously. “Where is your family on Thanksgiving? Not that I mind you spending time with us…”
“Uh, they’re actually traveling.” The smile I send her is tight, uncomfortable.
Esther’s brow pinches. “Oh.” She shakes her head. “Nick and Paisley are my whole world. I hate spending the holidays without them.”
We fall quiet as we finish the rest of the dishes, Joseph calling for Esther just as I pick up the last plate. She hangs her dish towel up, telling me, “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re practically done anyway.”
Esther smiles warmly. “You’re a gem, Gracie. I hope you know that.”
I return the smile, but it fades away as she exits the kitchen, leaving me in the lingering silence. My neck aches, like I’ve been holding myself impossibly stiff, and a headache has been steadily blooming behind my left eye for the last hour.
All I want to do is go home and crawl into bed, where I can pretend this whole day never happened, but I won’t ruin Braxton’s day. It’s obvious how happy he is, spending time with his family and Nick’s.
And Paisley.
I’m just wiping down the counters when a voice drifts in through the cracked kitchen window. I pause, my hair standing up on end, that warning instinct flaring back to life. I shouldn't listen. I know that. Nothing good ever comes from eavesdropping. But morbid curiosity beats at me.
I edge closer to the window, trying to peer out into the dark just as a soft voice asks, “Have you told her about us?” The question is tentative, and I go still, resting trembling hands against the counter.
“There’s nothing to tell.” Braxton.
My blood rushes to my head, leaving me dizzy.
I blink rapidly, clearing my vision, just able to make out two shadowy bodies leaning against the wooden porch railing.
Their backs are to me, completely oblivious to their audience, but there’s enough light that I can see how close they’re standing to each other.
“Braxton—”
“That was all a long time ago,” he bites out, impatience coating his voice. “You left, remember?”
Paisley huffs, a finger twirling in a long strand of her hair. “You know why I had to,” she chides gently. “I was only eighteen, and you told me the day before I left. I couldn’t just put my future on hold for what we might have been.”
Braxton looks at her, his jaw taut with tension. “I never should have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did.” Paisley angles her body toward him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. A sharp pinch has me looking down, finding my own hands fisted, nails biting into my palms. I don’t blink, waiting for Braxton to pull away, to put distance between them, but he doesn’t move.
Encouraged, Paisley shifts even closer, barely a breath between their bodies. “I know I told you not to wait for me, but I guess I kind of hoped you would.”
“It’s been four years, Paisley,” Braxton protests, but the strength is missing from his words. Her hand lifts from his arm to his chest, pressing right over his heart—an intimate touch that has my throat going impossibly tight. “You never even came back to visit.”
“I know.” She ducks her head. “If I came home, I might never have gone back.”
“Paisley…”
“Do you love her?” she rushes out.
I hold my breath, waiting, but the silence stretches out too long. “Of course I love her,” he retorts, his tone defensive, and my heart drops. He steps away from her, running a hand through his dark hair, and her shoulders slump.
“Oh…”
My eyes are stinging, and I can’t bear to hear anymore. I straighten, just as someone calls, “Gracie?”
I jump, whirling around with wide eyes to find Nick standing in the doorway, watching me with a frown. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I rush out. “I was just…getting water.”
He looks from my empty hands to the sink, lifting his eyebrows. “Were you planning to drink from the tap?” His lips twitch.
An uneasy laugh escapes me. “Of course not.” My knees are shaking, but I commit to the lie, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet. There’s no part of my pride that will allow him—or anyone—to know everything I just overheard.
“I was looking for Paisley. Have you seen her?”
A door opens, and she steps into the room, her cheeks flushed a dull red. “I’m right here,” she says brightly. “I was just getting some fresh air.” She looks over at me, our eyes locking. I don’t know if her guilty look is in my imagination, or if she knows she did something wrong.
“Well, come on.” Nick rubs his hands together. “Mom and Dad are ready to start charades, and you’re on my team.” His eyes bounce between the two of us, a dip in his brow. “You seen Braxton?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me, and I mutely shake my head, nausea churning through me.
“No,” I say, avoiding Paisley’s careful glance. “I haven’t seen him.”