Chapter Nineteen
GRACE
Grace stoodat the open door of the guest room, unsure of what to do with herself. The room was smaller than she expected given the size of the house, and the full-sized bed with its floral bedspread looked microscopic. There was no way she could sleep next to Alix without accidentally touching her.
She swallowed hard, but the same heat that was warming the house had also turned her throat to sandpaper. It wasn’t a big deal. She could share with Alix. She’d shared plenty of beds in her life. It was fine. Totally fine. She’d get plenty of restful sleep.
And then, because the universe wanted to torment her, Alix walked in. Carrying her duffel, tattooed arms on display after peeling off her layers, she greeted Grace with the same broad smile she’d given her at the airport. Like she’d missed her during the few minutes they were apart.
Grace wanted more than anything to be in bed with her. To have the darkness of the room and the warmth of Alix’s body. To have the plausible deniability of a touch under the covers. To give in. To risk being wrong about the nature of their connection. To dare to be right.
Alix looked from the bed to Grace, apparently realizing for the first time that quarters would be close. Her tanned skin didn’t flush as much as it turned incandescent. She put the bag down and ran her fingers through her hair the way Grace so desperately wanted to.
Staring at the bed as if also calculating how little real estate they had, Alix’s expression was unreadable. Had she not known about the sharing? Had she expected her childhood room to be intact? Was she feeling erased?
Grace took a step toward her, but she didn’t get the chance to ask if she was okay. If she preferred for Grace to stay in another room. If coming home was too much and she needed to talk. Helen was right on Alix’s heels.
“I brought you extra blankets. It gets a bit drafty in here,” Helen said when she appeared in the guest room doorway. “I’m so sorry about your luggage, honey. I have a nightgown for you.” Her attention snapped to Alix, as if sensing an objection. “It’s still got the tag on, and it’s from Kohl’s.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Wolf. You didn’t have to go through any trouble for me?—”
“It’s no trouble,” she assured her, placing the tower of folded items on the dresser. “I hope your things arrive tomorrow. I want you to feel at home while you’re here.” Helen retrieved a thick woven blanket that looked like it had been handmade by someone’s favorite grandma and then handed down for generations. The kind of thing she always wished her own family had. Something that only became important because it was wrapped in generational love.
“I really appreciate that.” Grace held her own hands, unsure how to stand still while someone else did all the work, but she didn’t want to offend Helen or reject her hospitality by helping. “At least I had my toiletries in my backpack.” She laughed awkwardly for no discernible reason.
“Now I know you are very California cool, and I’m going to sound more naive than I am.” Helen let her knowing gaze linger on Grace like she wanted to be sure Grace saw the flash of her smirk before she looked at Alix. “But under my roof, only married couples share beds.”
Eyes widening, Alix paled. “Mom,” she shrieked like a teenager experiencing stage-four mortification.
Despite her own shock at Helen’s assumption, Grace couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted from her body like a car alarm. She clamped her jaw shut, but it was too late. The inhuman sound had escaped.
See? It’s not so funny when it’s happening to you, she told Alix with nothing but a glance and the flick of her brow.
“Now, Grace. I don’t want you to think I’m not very pleased that Alexandra brought home someone special?—”
“Is this thing broken?” Alix mimicked sound-checking a microphone. “Mom, we’re not together. We’re really just friends. Why would I lie?—”
“Just like you and the Roberts girl werejust friends?” Helen finished exchanging the bedspread with the woven blanket. “I found them in the hayloft beingremarkablygood friends before senior prom.” She put the folded bedspread in the closet like she hadn’t stolen Alix’s imaginary mic and drop-kicked it out of the room.
“Oh, there was a Roberts girl?” Grace crossed her arms, but no amount of practice could hide her delight at Alix’s adorable horror.
“You know she married a veterinarian and moved to Wellington. I hear they have three lovely children.” Helen closed the closet door. “Grace, how do you feel about kids?”
Grace didn’t say that at thirty-nine, she feared that ship had sailed. She answered honestly instead. “Love them.”
“Alexandra was always so good with kids.” Helen put her hand to Alix’s cheek like she still couldn’t believe she was really home. “She used to teach riding lessons to little ones every summer.”
The way Alix softened at her mother’s touch was so sweet. It was so intimate, too intimate, like Grace had witnessed something that wasn’t meant for her. But whether she should be in the audience or not, there she was, struggling to breathe while her heart expanded in her chest.
It was a shift in gravity, the change in Alix’s demeanor, a centrifugal force keeping Grace pinned to the spot. No, not pinned, pulled. Drawn into Alix’s orbit. Stripped of her humor and bravado, Alix was even more irresistible. She was perfect, and Grace was perfectly fucked. Of course this was exactly her luck. Grace’s ability to find only unavailable women should really be studied in a lab.
“You can share with Matt,” Helen said, abruptly dragging Grace back to her senses.
Alix groaned, returning to herself too. “In the basement that smells like dude who failed to launch?”
“It’s nice to see some things never change. Even that sparkling charm usually reserved for teenagers.”
Grace laughed, earning an amused wink from Helen. She relaxed. Even if Alix was unavailable romantically, she’d given her the most natural friendship of her life, and maybe that was even better than romance. She watched Alix interact with her mom, her stomach fluttering at the sight.
