He grins, and I’m left feeling winded. With every revelation Henry has divulged about Jude, my questions have only deepened.
Thankfully, I don’t have a chance to linger over them as our server comes to clear our plates and replace them with the final course. For the rest of dinner, we don’t talk about Jude, even though the thought of him lingers like a well-dressed phantom at the edges of my mind.
It’s not fair to Henry at all. By all my pre-Jude standards, it was the best date of my life. But as Henry and I leave the restaurant, the butterflies I’ve been urging to take flight all night may as well still be caterpillars.
He walks me to my car beneath the glowing string lights that crisscross over downtown Providence in a golden blaze, our hands in our respective pockets. Trading furtive glances, we’re quiet as the perennial first date question mounts:Will there be a first kiss, too?
“I’ve been trying to think of something better to say than ‘I had a really nice time’ for the whole last block,” he says, turning toward me when we stop in front of my Camry. “But it’s the truth. I had areallynice time, Gracie.”
He says this so earnestly and looks so handsome beneath the warm glow of lights, I could kick myself for not wanting to kiss him. Old me would probably be wondering if she could get away with casually asking how long he thinks two people should date before getting engaged. But somehow, in the few short weeks I’ve known him, Jude has taken the checklist of everything I’ve always thought I wanted and added things I’ve only ever felt with him.
I’ve tried denying it. Tried ignoring the quickly shifting landscape of my heart with every one of our conversations. But then he changed the chemistry of my brain with one single kiss. And in the aftermath, I now understand that it’s possible toknowsomeone is the worst person for you, while also feeling like you might just die if they never touch you again.
Which is why, despite all good sense, I tuck my hands a little deeper into my coat pockets and say, “I had a nice time, too. Now I get all of Jude’s hype about you as his best friend.”
I try to say it warmly, but the moment the wordfriendleaves my mouth, I see a crestfallen flicker of disappointment in Henry’s eyes.
“I do pride myself on not sucking as a friend,” he says. “But I have to admit, I’m interested in more than that with you, Gracie.”
Once again, Henry proves to me that there are still men in this world who have the courage to lay it all on the line. My instinct is to try shoving down all the doubt Jude has sown and snap this man up before anyone else discovers him.
But the truth is, I’d hoped this date would make me feel swept off my feet, and instead, I spent nearly our whole time together thinking about his best friend. And even if I have no future with Jude, that’s not the way I should be starting a relationship with anyone else.
I force myself to meet his hopeful gaze. “I really like you, too. But I’m just not sure we have that kind of spark, Henry,” I say quietly. Apologetically.
His expression falls as he fixates blankly on a point in the distance. When he looks back at me, his gaze is determined. “Listen. I’m not usually pushy, and I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. But not every relationship has to start with fireworks. Sometimes slow and steady is the best way to start something that lasts. And given that you’re a wedding planner, I’m guessing you’re interested in finding that one person to do life with. Marriage, a mortgage, maybe some kids, right?”
I shift on my feet, wondering if he’s aware that he’s just spoken my love language with perfect fluency. “Of course I’d love to find that person,” I say.
He nods eagerly, like I’m finally catching on. “Me, too! So just hear me out—we can go as slow as you want. If you need to put me in the friend zone for a while as we get to know each other, that’s fine. I’m basically the mayor of the friend zone. All I ask is that you don’t close the door on the possibility of more.”
Maybe he’s right. Just because my feelings for him aren’t the all-consuming kind, it doesn’t mean that passion couldn’t develop, right? They say what burns hottest also burns fastest. I’ve had enough of flaming out, and given the impossible circumstances with Jude, I don’t know what else could possibly happen with us. Maybe all I need to get over my ridiculous crush is a little time. So, with a deep breath,I look at Henry and say, “Okay. Let’s just take it slow. I promise not to shut the door.”
He grins like I’ve just agreed to move in and file joint taxes with him. When we say goodbye, I don’t pull away when he gently kisses my cheek. I swear to myself I will give this wonderful man the chance he deserves and ignore all my unreliable gut feelings. But for the rest of the drive home, I can’t help wondering if I’m just leading both of us on.
21JUDE
Four Weeks Before the Wedding
So this is what it’s like to go mad.As I pace around a second-floor guest room at Larkwood, pretending to catalog antiques and artwork for auction, what I’m really doing is coming up with another reason to look out the window. Uncoincidentally, it provides a direct view of Gracie’s cottage, which is still dark. For the sixtieth time in as many minutes, I tell myself I just want to know she’s made it home safely. When she gets back from her date with Henry, I willnotgo down and visit her. I won’t interrogate her. I won’t push her up against a wall until she’s making those breathy little whimpers I drew from her at the cake shop, and—
Snap.
The tip of my pencil breaks clean off from pressing it too hard. “Goddamnit.”
From her perch on the back of a couch, Taco hisses at me. Frankly, I deserve it. I roll my forehead against the cold glass of the window.She’s on a date with your best friend, remember? She wants him, not you.
I keep having to remind myself because for one suspended moment, with her hands tangled in my hair, I thought everything had changed. It had for me. But then she’d gasped his name.Henry.
It’s difficult to exhale around my guilt. Telling him I’d kissed Gracie was one of the most shameful conversations of my life, andafterward, I swore I’d stop thinking about her—unless it was to remind myself of the manifold reasons she’s off-limits.
But I can’t stop myself from replaying our kiss until the thought of her with Henry is a live wire, sparking and thrashing in my stomach. I run a hand over my scratchy face. A committed relationship is something I’ve never even let myself fantasize about. Wanting one now makes my skin feel like it shrunk in the wash—too restrictive for the immensity of this craving.
I’m stalking toward an old mahogany desk for a pencil sharpener when I hear it: the crunch of gravel.
Tossing my clipboard and broken pencil onto the polished surface, the window yanks me back like I’m a wolf on a leash. Her headlights flash by, and my feeble self-restraint vanishes. I’m already making my way out of the room and down the stairs, half-assed rationalizations circling my mind.
Because I have to know—did she have a good time with him? Did she agree to see him again? Or did she spend the whole night thinking about our kiss, too?
