“Okay, thanks. A latte and madeleine would be great.”
“Good choice,” he comments before leaving me to face my own personal version of hell. I want to flick the back of his head.
“Calvin, hi!” I say, giving him a little wave instead of walking into his now outstretched arms.
He doesn’t get the hint and walks toward me before I can sit. And then I’m wrapped in his arms, breathing in mint, sandalwood, and what I’m positive is the stale ghost of my dignity as I suck in lungful after lungful. He lets go far too soon or far too late—it’s hard to decide. But then I’m being turned bodily by Brooke and blasted full in the face by her outrageous, thick-eyebrowed beauty.
“Gracie, you angel! It’s so wonderful to meet you at last,” she says in the sort of British accent that belongs in Jaguar commercials and Jane Austen adaptations.Naturally.
“You, too!” I attempt to say, but it comes out sounding much closer toYou chew!
She graciously ignores this, but I get the feeling everything she does is filled with grace, including tripping and burping. As we sit, I see Calvin glance between us excitedly, like he’s thrilled we haven’t automatically challenged each other to a cage match.
“Cal, you never mentioned how beautiful she is, you sly dog,” Brooke teases, poking him in the arm with her tasteful cream manicure. While I wrestle with whether to be flattered or flattened by this, she goes on, “I feel rather lucky you let go of her at all.”
The smile plastered on my face goes wooden as I change the subject with the delicacy of a brick through a window. “I owe you two a congratulations!”
On cue, Calvin shoots Brooke the most adoring look I’ve possibly ever seen on a human face before resting his hand on her still-flat stomach. “Thanks, Gracie. We couldn’t be happier.”
Brooke flashes me a shy smile, and my own falters. “Right! Yes! The baby,” I say heartily, before glancing over to where Jude is waiting for his order and desperately wishing I weren’t alone. “How are you feeling, Brooke?”
“Honestly, I’m embarrassed to say I’ve been fine,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I know so many people have nausea atthis stage, but I think this little one knows not to come between Mummy and her spreadsheets!” she jokes, and my laugh is robotic.
Calvin throws an arm over her shoulders. “Brooke is a partner at the wealth management firm mine competes with.” He makes a grimace. “And while I’m glad she’s feeling great, I could have really used a little break from her snapping up all our best clients.”
“Wow, so you’re work rivals,” I say faintly, winded by this further revelation that Calvin’s love story is straight out of a romance novel. But I’m saved from the urge to ask them if they ever found themselves in a one-bed scenario at one of their Successful Hot People conferences when Jude returns with a steaming latte, two madeleines, and what looks like half a baguette stuffed with more veggies than I’ve probably eaten in the last week.
“Um, thanks?” I say, taken aback. “I didn’t need the five-dollar-foot-long, though.”
He shrugs but doesn’t meet my eye as he sits. “Save it for later, then.”
What in the freshly baked hell?I mean, I’m not necessarily opposed to chivalry when it’s of the nutrient-dense variety, but I’m still not entirely convinced Jude isn’t trying to poison me.
“What have I missed?” he asks, and even though he sounds like he’s hoping to hear “Everything! We’re actually all finished up here!” I can’t help feeling a little less alone.
“Only that Calvin is counting on his fiancée’s sick days to compete with her at work,” I say, earning a guffaw from Calvin and a delighted “I knew I was going to adore you!” from Brooke.
I glance over at Jude, whose face is carefully neutral as he takes a drink of coffee. I take a hasty sip of my own before reaching into my bag to retrieve the contract and Larkwood welcome package I give to all my clients.
“I’m kidding, of course. I was delighted to hear from Calvin again, and we’re thrilled you’ve chosen Larkwood for your wedding venue.” Jude makes an indistinct sound of dissent, and I kick the side of his leg. “Right, Jude?”
“I didn’t realize this was an old-friend situation,” he says,sidestepping the question. “No wonder Gracie was so insistent on making this happen.”
He says it with a smile that’s so offensively charming, there’s a good chance they don’t detect his displeasure with the whole situation.
“?‘Old friend’ is one way to put it,” Brooke says. She leans forward like she’s sharing a hot piece of gossip with Jude. “Cal and Gracie dated years ago. But he swears that’s all ancient history.”
Calvin meets my eyes for a moment so brief I think I’ve imagined it before he drinks from his cup. He smiles at no one in particular. “It’s true. But you know how it goes. Everyone has that old college flame that inevitably goes out. Then you realize you’re better off as friends. Right, Gracie?”
Jude must sense that I’ve turned to stone because it’s his turn to bump my foot under the table.
“Right,” I hear myself agree. “Ancient history.”
Jude nudges the plate of madeleines closer to me. “Should we get down to business?” he asks, saving me from any further emotional torture. “I’m sure you both have a thousand questions for Gracie.”
And that’s when I feel something for Jude I never saw coming—gratitude.
10GRACIE
