She tuts at Jackson as she walks off. It’s quite funny.
He pulls a face at me. “Thanks for that. Now I’m the bad guy.”
I laugh.
“Broke your heart,” he scoff-mutters.
I’m feeling uncharacteristically reckless. “Come on, you know you did. You came to Mellie’s the day after your wedding and gave me that pity hug,” I remind him.
“It wasn’t a pity hug,” he replies with alarm.
I have a surreal moment when I realize that we’re having this conversation, but I’m suddenly done with dancing round the bush.
“You said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ You knew you’d hurt me. Because you knew I loved you.”
He stares at me. The fairy lights strung from the trellis are reflected in his eyes. His shoulders drop and he looks crushed as he reaches across the table.
I move my hand away. “Don’t.”
“Grace.”He sounds torn.
It’s the first time he’severcalled me Grace.
Suddenly I feel like both our masks have slipped, leaving us raw and exposed. It’s too much.
“Anyway, that ship has sailed, my friend,” I force myself to say lightly.
The waitress comes back with the bottle Jackson ordered, plus a glass of ice. “Lise asked me to bring this out to you,” she says, indicating the ice.
“Aw, thank you.” I blow Lise a kiss through the window and then I give the waitress my brightest smile as she pours the wine.
As soon as she’s left us to it, I chance a glance at Jackson. He’s looking dazed.
My head spins as I realize what I’ve done. I’ve opened a whole can of worms and they’re in my stomach squirming.
“Étienne’s swinging by in a bit to pick up Mellie’s car keys,” I say.
He comes to with a start. “Let’s order some food then.”
The last thing I feel like is food. But there’s no going back now.
I glance toward the river and see Étienne walking across the pedestrian bridge with his friend Dion at his side. He spots me as he reaches the terrace, giving me a smile that instantly settles my nerves.
“Salut,” I say, standing up.
He touches his hand to my waist as he gives me two perfunctory kisses and then he shakes Jackson’s hand, moving aside so Dion can also greet me.
Dion grabs a vacant chair from the next table and spins it into place between Jackson and me.
“I’ll get us a drink,” Étienne says as Dion goes in search ofanother chair. He calls out something to Dion in French and Dion replies, “Bière.”
Dion returns and sits down.
“Where have you two come from?” I ask.
“Étienne was helping me move into my new apartment,” he replies, wriggling on his seat to pull something out of his back pocket. “This is for your grandmother.”
It’s a tiny red-and-white rally car on a key ring. “It’s so cool!,” I coo.
