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Oh, I hear him.
Loud and clear.
I feel sick with regret.
No matter how this goes down, I really don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for walking out on Gracie the same way the guy who came before me did.
I wouldn’t blame Gracie if she never forgave me, either.
Another draw of Jack.
My God, I’m a shit. An undeserving shit.
Proving my own goddamn point.
That don’t mean I can’t try to get her back, though.
Should I? What would I say? How would I do it? Would she believe me?
Because despite Eli’s words of wisdom here, I still got my doubts. Yeah, Gracie may not want that wine cellar. But where does that leave us? What do we really have in common?
Most important: how the hell do I even begin to mesh our worlds?
How do I make them come together in a lasting way if they are so damn different?
I don’t know.
“I’m really fucking sorry, E,” I breathe. Not knowing what else to say. “I never meant to hurt you or your sister. I love her, I do. More than anything.”
Elijah takes the bottle out of my hands. Grabs the cap from my arm rest and screws it on.
“If you love her like you say you do, then you’ll make your decision and you’ll never look back. If you can’t be the man you believe she deserves, then at least be decent and give her a real explanation of why you can’t be with her. Let her go for good. Let her know she ain’t the reason why you walked out on her.”
I nod. Is that what Gracie really thinks? That she’s the one at fault here? That she’s the one who fell short?
Fuck.
“Understood. I’ll do the right thing.”
If I could just figure out what the right thing to do is here.
Leaning forward to tamp out his cigar in the plastic ashtray on the porch railing—I’ve kept it there for Eli since the day the renovation wrapped up—Eli takes the bag in his hand and stands. Offers it to me.
“There’s a BLT in there. Some breakfast potatoes and turnip greens I sautéed up this morning. And somethin’ from Olivia, too.”
I take the bag, feeling like an elephant has settled on my chest.
“Thanks.” I stand. “I really appreciate it, E. You got no idea how awful I feel.”
He turns his head, squinting. “Gracie feels worse. You need to go to her. Sooner rather than later.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
“Go on and eat. You look like hell. Your mamas gonna check in on you? Or do I need to come back out here and make sure you’re gettin’ outta bed?”
Waving him away, I smile tightly. “I’m good.”
He waits a beat. Then another. I can feel his eyes on me.
“All right then. I’ll get gone. You call if you need me.”
“Thanks again, E.”
He ambles down the steps. I watch him walk to his shiny black pickup.
Putting his hand on the door, he turns to me.
“What’s wrong with having a partner you look up to?” he says. “I admire the hell out of Olivia. I like that she challenges me. I like that she pushes me to do better, and be better. I’d be bored otherwise. Think about that.”
I do.
I think real hard on it. I know Eli’s onto something. I admire his relationship with Olivia. Two of them had to go through hell to get where they are now. But they are good together. The kind of good that doesn’t come around all that often.
Could Gracie and I be that good together?
I head back into the house. The quiet I enjoyed so much feels oppressive now. Empty.
Setting the bag on my kitchen counter, I dig out the plastic container of food. It’s still warm.
Did he make breakfast for Gracie, too? Lord, I hope she’s not too upset to eat.
Underneath the food, there’s a book. I lift it out of the bag and see that it’s a paperback copy of My Deal With the Duke. Complete with a dude on the cover wearing some kinda jacket but no shirt, windswept hair feathered across his forehead. Breeches undone at the waist.
I open the book. Olivia left a note on the title page.
Luke—
I heard Max and Jane helped inspire the ‘quest’ that led Gracie to you.
Perhaps they can lead you back to her, too. Xx, Olivia.
I eat what I can—half the sandwich, all the greens.
Then I lay down on the couch. Tuck my arm behind my head. And I start to read.Chapter Thirty-ThreeGracieI hear from Elijah.
“Give it time,” is all he says.
I don’t hear from Luke.
I think about calling him. Texting him. Showing up at his door with a six pack and a plea to rethink his reasons.
But then I think that’s too pathetic. He’s the one who walked out on me. If he wanted to rethink his reasons, he would.
