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“Yeah,” I say, rueful. “You sure did.”
“I’m not the bad guy here.” Charlie looks stubborn. “I don’t know how I could have been more honest.”
I don’t know whether he’s trying to convince me—or himself. But either way, I don’t want to have this fight. Fortunately, the bartender lays down a shot of tequila. I tip it back, letting the burn trail down my throat.
Deep breath, Grace.
“You’re not honest,” I say quietly. “Not really. You’re stuck inside this loop, where you tell yourself that commitment brings nothing but pain, so you never take a chance on anyone—because if you did, they might actually prove you wrong.”
“Grace—” he tries to interrupt, but I need to finish.
“No, you don’t get it. So, you had your heart broken, your marriage failed,” I tell him. “Well guess what? People don’t work out all the time. We get hurt, and our hearts break, but that doesn’t mean we just give up on love. But you have. You’re a coward, Charlie Fox,” I tell him bitterly. “You’re not brave enough to put your heart on the line again. But I am.”
I take a deep breath. I look him in the eyes.
"I’m falling in love with you,” I tell him simply. “I wish you wanted that too. But I’m done with loving people who don’t deserve me. Who can’t step up, and give me what I need.”
Charlie holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods. “You do deserve love,” he says quietly, and damn, if that doesn’t break my heart even more.
“Goodbye, Charlie.” I manage, before the tears flow.
He nods. “Goodbye, Grace.”
I don’t knowhow I make it through the rest of the reception, but somehow, I make a good show of light-hearted happiness for Poppy. I congratulate her again, I dance to the Cupid Shuffle, and I pose with bridesmaids in the photo booth. All the while, I keep my eyeline on the band or dance floor, terrified that I’ll see Charlie working the room. Unattached, now.
Looking for his next no-strings fling.
When I can’t hold it together for another second, I flee the reception area. There’s a back staircase near the kitchens, and I slump down in my gown, champagne in one hand and cake plate balanced on my lap. God—where am I going to sleep tonight? One of those leather couches in the lobby? A server notices me, startled by the sniffling sounds.
“Breakup,” I mumble, pitifully. She nods once, then comes back in fifteen minutes to refresh my champagne and cake.
Irony, I think, looking down at the classic vanilla and buttercream slice.It starts and ends with a cake in a lap.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, going over the events of the evening. Charlie won’t change his mind, but I won’t either—even for someone who made me happier than I thought I could be. No more bending to other people’s needs. I have my own.
Eventually, a tall figure saunters up to the bannister. For a heartbreaking second, I think it’s Charlie, and I look up desperately fast.
“Hey,” Dash says softly. I assume, based on his sympathetic face, that Charlie gave him the highlight reel. “I’m heading back tonight. Do you need a ride to the city?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “Yes, please. Get me out of here.”
Dash offers a hand, helping me to my feet. “You know, I love the guy like a brother, but he can be a fucking idiot. Excuse my language.”
I sniffle. “Thanks,” I manage. I don’t want to talk about it—I won’t be able to keep from blubbering like a total clown—but luckily Dash is already chatting about the regulars at Mavericks, and the date he had the other week, and his grandmother’s plans for him to settle down.
“I keep telling her, once a bachelor, always a bachelor,” he says, then winces. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” I tell him, as we leave the celebrations behind. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Some people just don’t change.”
Not me. If this time with Charlie has taught me anything, it’s that I deserve more in life. I’m not settling for scraps anymore.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell.
23
GRACE
After my heartbreakin the Catskills, I take to my bed like an Austen heroine with a head cold. I think about Charlie and me from every angle, sure I’ve missed something. But no—I said what I felt. How I feel.
