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I pull over and whip out my phone, immediately sending over an order for delivery to Jude’s house. Some Gatorade to rehydrate, Advil in case she has a headache, and, the piece de resistance, a package of Plan B. A way to reset everything. Hopefully, she’ll see that as my way of apologizing for my impulsivity.
I immediately feel some amount of relief. We can move on from this, and continue on with the plan as is detailed and discussed in our contract.
We can pretend like last night never happened and I will work on making sure I’m never tempted by Jude Parry again.
I check in with Jude not once but twice over the next three days. I get nothing in reply, not even the telltale three dots that might indicate she’s seen my messages and just isn’t responding.
Perhaps I’ve hurt her with the wall I put up between us. Maybe I was cruel. I can’t say that’s a new accusation, though. Women have been telling me this most of my adult life. My mind drifts to Samantha, a girlfriend from many years ago, whom I stood up on a flight to Bermuda. We planned this lovely getaway but I convinced myself I needed to stay in Savannah and work. After hearing her yell at me for an hour straight I was convinced she was going to hire a hitman to take me out.
Jude and I had planned for a brunch with Gram, or I should say Gram demanded a brunch for just the three of us after the engagement in order to discuss wedding plans and how things will work moving forward. I’m worried Jude might just not even show, but when I go to pick her up, she’s waiting outside for me, prompt as always, and looking gorgeous in a yellow sundress.
I hold my breath as she approaches the car, trying not to stare at her. If I don’t look too hard, if I don’t notice all the beautiful little intricacies of her, then I can’t end up in another compromising position, can I?
That’s not the most sound logic, but it’s all I’ve got.
Jude opens the passenger door and I immediately know things are wrong. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t smile.
“I brought you coffee,” I say with a gentle nod toward the center console.
She merely looks at the coffee as if it’s a snail crawling across her path. “Let’s get this over with.”
Fuck, Chase, you’ve done it again.
The drive to the country club is quiet. I had planned to prep Jude for the brunch including going over the story I gave Gram for our disappearance the other night, but I am cotton-mouthed.
In the passenger seat, Jude seems to stew, rocking side to side in her seat. She’s nervous maybe. Although whether that’s because of seeing me or going to see Gram, I’m not sure. I’m compelled to comfort her. Say something kind or reach over and squeeze her hand. The former feels impossible, the latter I will not permit myself to do.
And so we remain silent.
Thankfully, once we arrive at the club, Jude turns it on when she sees Gram. A sparkling smile, a generous embrace. “You look lovely, Gram!” Jude exclaims.
“You do too, my dear. I was worried when Chase told me you fell ill at the party the other night.”
Jude laughs nervously, throwing a look – no – a glare in my direction. “Yes, I’m so sorry about that.”
“You’ll have to work on your self-control before the rest of the events,” Gram remarks as we settle into our seats. “We can’t be welcoming a lush into our family.”
“Gram,” I hiss. I hadn’t told Gram that Jude had too much to drink. She just assumed.
Jude is amazingly good-humored reaching over and patting my hand. “Yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I was just so excited to finally share our happiness.” She starts to squeeze my hand until I’m sure the vise grip might kill me. “It’s all so much, so fast. You understand.”
I’m afraid I might need to yelp in pain, but she relents right at the last second.
“I’m sure. But you two must understand that you’ve preventedourhappiness in seeing a relationship develop between the two of you. We have much more catching up to do and, if you’re going to become a Gladstone, your self-composure is a must.”
The corner of Jude’s mouth twitches.
“Gram, we just got here. Can we order before we get into it?”
Gram shoots daggers my way and I suddenly realize that I have cornered myself in a lion’s den between the woman I’ve created a fake relationship with and the woman who believes it’s real with all her soul. “Certainly. Although, Jude, dear, I’d encourage you to stay away from anything too heavy in carbs or high in fats. You’ll want to keep your figure slim before the wedding. I know how the happiness can go to your head as well as your hips. Pancakes really aren’t your friend.”
“I’m not terribly hungry anyway,” Jude says. Her voice is paper thin as if she’s holding back tears. Dear God, is she already breaking under the pressure? “So you don’t need to worry about me.”
We fall into a silence as we peruse the menu. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jude press her hand to her abdomen, letting out a long sigh. For God’s sake, she doesn’t need to pretend she’s not hungry just to satisfy Gram. Starving herself wasn’t a part of this deal and I’ll be damned if I allow her to do it.
She merely orders toast and some oatmeal. I double down on my order: “I’ll do the eggs benedict. With a side of bacon and pancakes too.”
Gram doesn’t bother to admonish me like she would Caroline for the same behavior. I’m nearly forty but in her eyes, I’m still a growing man. I need to be big and strong in order to provide. The double standard has never been lost on me. However, when it comes to Gram, it’s her world, we’re just living in it.
