“Do you want me to leave?” I blurt out. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll go right now if you need me to. We can talk when you’re ready.”
Confusion and hurt spasm across her face, almost like the simple courtesy I’ve offered suddenly doesn’t match up with what she’s expecting from me. She crosses her arms over her middle. “No. We need to talk. But maybe—”
Her eyes jerk briefly down toward my mostly naked body.
“Of course. Do you want to change first?” I ask, eyeing my button-up covered in her lipstick.
She quickly looks down like she forgot what she was wearing and then nods once before walking to her bedroom. When the door closes, it may as well be a giant boulder rolling into place. The message is clear:I don’t trust you anymore.
Trying not to panic, I close my eyes, willing all the years of therapy to penetrate the seething swirl ofwhat-ifstrying to suck me under.
I do the breathing exercises. I remind myself of what I can and can’t control instead of desperately grasping for a way to fix a situation I’m not yet fully aware of. By the time Gracie’s door opens again, I feel slightly less like my head’s on fire. When she holds out my shirt and the rest of my crumpled tux, I take it with numb fingers and quickly pull on my clothes while she averts her eyes.
“I’m decent,” I say as I finish buttoning my shirt.
She turns back to me, and the leaden disappointment in her eyes stops my fidgeting, my breathing, and possibly all organ function. “You’re getting rid of Larkwood,” she finally says.
For a moment, my mind goes blank. But then, like a television switching from static fuzz to a high-definition channel, I see every single one of my missteps leading to this cliff edge. Every time I could have been more honest with her.Fuck.
“Yes,” I whisper, too bewildered to even ask how she found out. “I was going to tell you last night, but then—” I stop. I don’t need to give her a recap of how out of my mind with love and lust I was.
Her mouth tightens. “Last night, you said that anything you had to give was mine. And while I never expected you to keep it for mysake, Iwasstupid enough to think that you’d changed your mind.” She shakes her head. “I thought you were beginning to care about my friends more than your own greed, or whatever reason you have for doing this. I even thought something had shifted in your opinions about Agatha. That you were finally coming to respect what she wanted because love didn’t seemquiteso ridiculous to you anymore. But I guess I should have read the fine print.”
At her accusations, even my unbuttoned collar begins to feel suffocating.
“Of course I feel like shit for cutting all the vendors off. For cuttingyouoff,” I say quickly. “You showed me exactly what was at stake by closing Larkwood’s doors, and if I’m being honest, you did make me question what Nana wanted. But you have to believe me when I say that she knew I’d be desperate to get rid of it. She made her peace with that when she left it to me, but Istillweighed every option like I said I would,” I tell her, as frustration, guilt, and defensiveness claw for dominance just below my sternum.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve considered keeping it—and not for any noble reason, either. I’ve spent so many nights thinking about throwing away this opportunity for the estatejustto make you happy.”
My breathing is unsteady, heart racing. Obviously, I can’t tell her that I also offered it to my mom in a rash, misguided gambit, but it doesn’t matter. Gracie’s staring at me like she sees every one of my careful omissions like they’re bullet holes in my story.
“It was never just about my happiness, Jude! Agatha—”
I shake my head, impatience flaring. “This was never just about my grandmother or the vendors,” I cut in. “Deep down, we both know the real reason you’ve been trying so hard to save Larkwood, Gracie.”
Her lower lip trembles, but her eyes hold steady. “Then go ahead. Say it.”
“You’reafraid. Too scared of getting hurt again to try living in the real world. But staying cooped up in this cottage for the rest of your life isn’t going to protect you from anything. Not from failure, not from heartbreak, not from grief. You’re clinging to the delusionthat staying here isn’t the worst possible thing for you, when what youshouldbe doing is moving on with your life.”
“And what makes you qualified to know what’s best for me?” she snaps. “Is this just another part of your caretaking thing, or are youreallythat self-absorbed?”
Weaponizing my kink against me is a low blow, and from the flash of regret in her eyes, she knows it. But she also isn’t wrong. Maybe it is self-absorption, but after repeatedly weighing all the options, Iknowmy decision is for the best. Even if I’ll never be able to explain it to her.
“I’m sorry.” The words slip from me, inadequate but honest. “You may not agree with my decision, but I’ve settled on it. Larkwood will no longer be a wedding venue, but I promise to do everything in my power to cushion the blow when you sell me the cottage. I want you to be okay—more than okay. I’veneverwanted to hurt you.”
She lets out a hollow laugh. “No? Not even when you were discussing seducing me to get what you wanted? Maybe I should congratulate you on such a job well done.”
Incredulity draws my arms across my chest. “What the hell are you talking about? I would never—” But I stop as understanding clicks into place.
“You spoke with Henry,” I say. My eyes close. Henry’s willingness to throw me under the bus hurts, but I can’t muster any anger. The truth is, I deserve this. I deserve it for thinking I had any right to love and friendship when all I can safely offer back is a watered-down version designed for hurting people.
“Yes, I spoke with him,” she says, her dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “He was surprised you had the nerve to follow through with his suggestion, but I guess he knows better than I do how desperate you were.”
“Seducing you to get your cottage wasnevermy plan. I tried staying away from you, Gracie. YouknowI tried,” I say, wide-eyed and anguished. “But in the end, you came tome, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to say no. I’m sorry the way I want you grinds all my common sense and decency to a pulp. No one knows better than me that I don’t deserve you—that you don’t deserve to be with someonewho shouldn’t be withanyone. But for me, knowing youisloving you, Gracie.”
My heart is beating like I’ve just swum a hundred meters with a refrigerator strapped to my back. Her glossy eyes spill over, and it takes everything in me not to close the space between us.
“I want to believe you,” she whispers. “When I’m with you, I feel how much you care. How much love you want to give me. But how am I supposed to trust you when you won’t confide in me? When even your best friend hardly knows you beneath all the secrets you keep? Am I just supposed to accept that you’ll never let me in while I give you everything?” She shakes her head. “Love can’t stand on half a foundation, Jude.”
