Her mom pops her head in the room. “You girls okay in there?”
Grace sighs. “Yes, Mom.”
“So dark in here,” says Grace’s mom, and reaches for the lamp. “Did you offer Ramona anything to drink?”
I grin. “Yes, ma’am, she did.”
Grace eyes her mother pointedly.
“Okay, okay,” she says, and ducks back into the kitchen.
Grace waits for the sink to turn back on, and then she leans toward me, pressing her lips against mine.
At first my heart races. I close my eyes and kiss her back, picking up where we left off—sort of. Wanting someone is a hard habit to break. But then I realize what’s happening, and the sound of her mother doing dishes reminds me ofwhere we are. And Freddie. And the way Grace broke my heart without even looking back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I whisper, pulling as far back as I can.
Grace looks up, searching my face. She presses both hands to her cheeks. “I was a real shithead to you,” she blurts.
“Your mom’s in the next room,” I whisper sharply. And how could she somehow think that a kiss could fix all the damage between us? “It wasn’t completely your fault,” I add.
She throws a hand back. “That doesn’t matter. I... I thought that if I could show you I wasn’t scared anymore...”
I can hear the panic in her voice, and I wonder how many times she’s run over this scene in her head, because me sitting here with her? This is something I didn’t ever expect to experience again.
I shake my head and am careful to whisper, “Grace, we don’t need to make a thing of this. Especially with your mom right there and the rest of your family around.” I use my most soothing voice. “It’s over. I don’t hold anything against you.”
“You don’t need to whisper.” She inhales deeply and then exhales. “I came out. I told my mom first. The day after Thanksgiving. We were Black Friday shopping, actually. My dad didn’t find out until a couple weeks ago.”
I clap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God. Are you serious?” This is, without a doubt, the last thing I expectedher to say, and I somehow feel guilty. Like I rushed her into something she wasn’t ready for. “I didn’t mean to—I never meant to push you into anything you weren’t ready to do.” I think back to my own Thanksgiving, when Freddie kissed me in his backyard.
She grins. “If I waited to be ready, I might not have ever done it, you know? It was a... shock, at first. And it’s been harder with my dad. But it feels good.” She lifts her eyes to the ceiling, pointing upstairs with her gaze. “My brother said he knew all along. Mom said she thought something was up, but wasn’t—”
“Do they know? About us?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Some. They know some.” She laughs. “Hence my mom barging in with the lights.” She smiles. “It’s like they knew how to handle boys. No sleepovers. No closed doors. Lights on. But, well, this is complicated. And there were my friends, too. Some were okay.” Her gaze drifts for a moment. “Some weren’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “What happened? How?” But the truth that makes me feel a little gross inside is that I wish she’d just come out when we were together. It’s hard not to imagine how different things might be right now.
“I broke up with Andrew after we... after that weekend. With your friend. What was his name? Frankie?”
My cheeks burn with heat. “Freddie.”
She nods. “He was nice. Nicer than I deserved.”
“I know what you mean,” I mutter.
She nods but doesn’t ask me to explain.
“So you ended it with Andrew?”
“I think that was the hardest part. I tried not to tell him why, but he kept pressing and pressing. And finally I did. I told him I liked girls. And... I don’t know, there was something so sad about watching him realize that this wasn’t a fixable thing. It wasn’t something we could solve.”
Her words are salt on an open wound. All I can think of is Freddie and how he wanted to desperately to power through and fix whatever was broken with us. With me. My chin begins to quiver, but I hold back the tears. I can’t bring myself to speak, so I nod, encouraging her to continue.
“I don’t regret what happened between us,” says Grace, “but I hate the way I hurt you. And I’m so sorry for that. I always will be.”
I want to tell her we’re even, because she ruined our love and I ruined Freddie’s and mine, so somehow the universe’s heartbreak scale is even. “Thank you,” I finally say. “But I’m glad to hear you’re happy. Or at least you seem like you are.”
