But even from here, I can hear Taco’s purr. Naturally, it stops the moment I sit down. Taco takes one look at me, decides I’ve ruined everything, and runs off the bed with the feline version ofharrumph.
As Taco leaves, Gracie turns her full attention to me and notices the tray. Her eyes light up for one unguarded moment before her smile falters. Almost as if she’s just realized her natural reaction was the wrong one. I stand stock still, mentally repeating the wordFuckuntil she finally says, “You made breakfast. Wow!” But her tone sounds more like “You’re proposing on the first date. Wow!”
Internally, I flinch. Of course I remember what she told me last night.I want this to be simple. No strings.But after what we shared, I thought things might have changed for her, too.
Christ.
I know better than to be disappointed. She’s only protecting herself, and if I had any self-restraint, I’d be respecting her boundaries instead of making hearts in her fucking latte.
Summoning all my natural God-given apathy like a muscle reflex, I shrug and walk to the bed. “I was starving,” I say as she sits up, carefully holding the sheets to her chest. “Want some?”
“You really didn’t have to do all this, but thank you,” she says, picking a grape. I watch it disappear into her mouth with a flare of satisfaction before meeting her gaze.
“I may have had ulterior motives,” I admit, hesitating. “I was hoping we could talk about why you came over last night.”
“Oh,” she says, clutching the latte she just grabbed to her chest.
I give her an apologetic look. “Look, I’m the last person who’sgoing to complain about your visit, but you seemed pretty upset when you showed up. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
She blinks down at her coffee, shoulders rising slightly. “I appreciate it, but we don’t have to talk, Jude. I told you last night that this can’t be anything more than…”
She lowers her lashes, too shy to say it.
“Fucking?” I finish for her, as disappointment snakes through me. Because apparently, we’ve slipped into an alternate universe where the hopeless romantic wedding planner wants commitment-free sex, while the cynical divorce lawyer wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to having her initials branded on his ass.
She glances up at me but stays silent.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Just because we didn’t do it on rose petals doesn’t mean we can’t talk. You’re not some random woman I met on the internet, you’re—” I cut the word off in the nick of time.Everything.
“Well, unlike you, I’ve never done this before,” she snaps, setting her coffee down. “I don’t know the rules. You show up with breakfast in bed a-and I don’t know what to think.”
“You’recalling the shots here, Gracie. You told me you wanted something simple, and I promise I’ll try. But if you think you can show up to my bedroom, let me do things to you that I’ll be replaying for the rest of my natural life, and then expect me not to ask why I got so lucky, you’re dead wrong.”
She closes her eyes and exhales. “I’m sorry. I know last night was out of character for me. I honestly feel like I barely even recognize myself right now.”
“You don’t owe me an apology or any specifics,” I tell her. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”And fix everything if you’re not.
Her eyes hold mine, like she’s trying to decide something. After a moment, she says, “Do you have anyone in your life who can handle any storm you bring to their door? Like a safe harbor?”
The question catches me off guard. Automatically, I think of my therapist, David, but I somehow doubt Gracie is referring to someone who invoices me. Next, I think of my mother, but while we’re close,that’s not our dynamic at all. So instead, I give her the most truthful answer I’ve got.
“Nana was that person for me. She and Henry, of course,” I say, with a stab of guilt.
At the mention of Henry’s name, she winces before nodding. “Agatha always made me feel safe. She opened her home to me when I needed it most.”
My stomach tightens as I think of my efforts to kick her out of it. “Is this when I should ask if I’m the asshole?’?”
The hint of a smirk lifts her lips. “Are you asking me, or the universe at large?”
“I don’t think an answer from either of you is going to be very good for my self-esteem.”
Her smile is no more than a flicker that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I had another safe harbor besides Agatha,” she says, and I’m alarmed to see the rapidly gathering distress on her face. “But last night—” Her brow crumples, and she looks down at her hands, twisted in the covers.
I curse softly. “Is it your mom?” I ask, remembering that she doesn’t have a close relationship with her dad. “Is she okay?”
The short laugh that emerges from her is serrated as she wipes both hands beneath her eyes. “No, it’s not my mom.” At my look of surprise, she says, “Is that unexpected?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Well, don’t sic Taco on me, but after you mentioned not having a relationship with your dad, I kind of assumed you’re the much-beloved daughter of a strict but supportive mother who secretly wishes you worked in accounting. Am I wrong?”
