I don’t want revenge.
I want quiet. One night where I don’t lie awake replaying conversations, wondering what I did wrong.
Lowering my voice so Devon won’t hear, I lean toward the girls. “I’m having a one-night stand tonight.”
Trish’s eyes widen. Kirsten groans like she’s already tired.
“One of these lucky lads”—I wave vaguely toward the bar, attempt an Irish accent, and fail miserably—“is going home with me.”
A spark of recklessness flares in my chest, bright and dizzy. It doesn’t quite reach the ache Brandon left behind, but it’s…close enough.
“Have you ever done that before?” Trish asks, halfway through a basket of fries.
“Nope,” I say breezily, flipping my hair. “But tonight feels like the right vibe.”
Kirsten snorts. “Gracie’s on the rebound. She always does this. Gets an idea and commits.”
“I do not.”
She gives me the look. The one that says I have lived with you since freshman year, and you cannot bullshit me.
“I’m unlucky in love,” I say, aiming for dramatic, landing somewhere between joke and confession. “I just want something easy,” I add. “Fun. No commitment. No complications.”
Given the number of glazed eyes and unsteady bodies around us, it shouldn’t be hard. Some people have clearly been here since opening, drinking like luck can be swallowed if you try hard enough.
“What about regret?” Kirsten asks.
“That’s a problem for Tomorrow Gracie.” I straighten, lifting my chin like confidence is something I can fake into existence, even as I wonder if I can actually pull this off.
Trish raises her glass. “To Tomorrow Gracie. She seems resilient.”
“To future Gracie,” I say, clinking my glass against hers. “May she not come home with a rash.”
They laugh.
Encouraged, I push on. “After all, it’s the luckiest day of the year. I’m going to pick a random guy, take him home, and bang him.”
The words barely leave my mouth when a voice speaks from right behind me.
“You’re going to what?”
My stomach drops.
I turn slowly.
Beck stands there.
Gracie
Age 5
The teacher is nice. Kind eyes and a soft voice. But that doesn’t stop me from crying when Mommy says she’s leaving and not coming back untillater. Mommy promises she’ll be waiting in the pickup line after school, the long one that wraps around the gravel drive and stretches out toward the fields.
I don’t care. I beg Mommy not to go, but she does anyway.
The teacher tries for a long time, at least ten whole minutes, to calm me down. She rubs my back and tells me it’s okay, that today will be fun.
That doesn’t stop my tears. But there’s another kid wailing even louder than I am, and eventually Teacher sighs and stands. There are lots of kids crying today, the first day of kindergarten.
