“You’re right. It was my mistake,” he says in a deadened voice.“I’m sorry for taking it too far. For pretending for a second that you wanted something”—his eyebrows slant together—“else.”
At the quiet resignation in his voice, my heartbeat stumbles. For a moment, it’s almost too tempting to interpret his words the wrong way—that he thought I might wanthiminstead. But over the last few weeks, he’s made it clear that a strings-free, physical connection is what he prefers.That’swhat he was pretending I wanted—the one thing he’s comfortable giving. But I need so much more than that. Unfortunately, I may have just blown my best chance of finding it.
“I have to tell him,” I whisper. “I’ll do it before our date.”
“No, don’t.”
I look up at him sharply. “Jude, he has to know. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Yes, obviously, but this is on me, Gracie. You’re free to kiss whoever you want, but I just betrayed my best friend. I need to be the one to tell him.”
“And you’ll make sure he knows that it didn’t mean anything, right? It was just part of a stupid game.”
He looks away, but not before I see something that looks alarmingly like hurt cross his features. “Of course.”
I take a shaky breath. “And do you think he’ll understand?”
Jude looks at me, his expression unfathomable. “I’ll make him understand.”
I nod, grateful and wretched. “Thank you, Jude.”
He nods. “I’ll go find some to-go boxes and say bye to Betty for us.”
He walks off toward the back room, looking like he was just attacked by a dangerously sex-deprived woman. I let out a quiet, despairing groan. This entire outing has been one giant failure.
But somehow, the suspicion that I’ve hurt Jude feels worse than anything at all.
19GRACIE
Four Weeks Before the Wedding
Is it possible to die from awkward silence? With my mortification still at potentially fatal levels after leaving the cake shop, I ask Jude to drop me off at Sofia’s studio instead of braving the hour-long drive back to Larkwood with him. He doesn’t argue. He only nods in what I assume is shell-shocked silence as I frantically text Sofia.
Thankfully, she replies that she’d love to see me, but there’s a catch: I’ll have to attend the community potluck that’s being held at KILN. I sigh. Being pressured into taking a studio space is the opposite of how I envisioned spending my evening (in my Snuggie with my old pals, Ben & Jerry). But at this point, I’d happily skip out of an airborne plane to escape Jude’s presence.
We pull up to the building, and after a flustered goodbye with zero eye contact, I eject myself from the car. Sucking in a merciful lungful of non-Jude-scented air, I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see Sofia in my life.
“Gracie! I’m so glad you came!” she says when I meet her at the studio entrance.
“You havenoidea how happy I am to see you,” I say as Jude drives away.
She takes me by the elbow and pulls me inside. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”
I’m still getting my bearings as we enter a large, light-filled studio on the first floor, and a small spasm cinches my chest tight when Ilook around the crowded room. Lined with heavy printmaking equipment and all the telltale trappings of an artist trying to make a living doing what they love, this space is a reminder of a life I left behind.
Silently hushing that line of thinking, I hold up the hefty box of extra wedding cake that feels like evidence from a crime scene, and say, “Where should I put this?”
Her eyes light up. “Follow me.”
The room is packed with what feels like the entire Providence arts scene—a moving gallery of carefully waxed handlebar mustaches, asymmetrical haircuts, and even a few babies sporting mullets.
Sofia responds to greetings as we weave toward the long tables at the back, straining beneath potluck offerings. Standing at the table serving herself quinoa salad is a well-dressed woman with long, straight black hair and utterly perfect skin. She beams at Sofia and me like she’s been waiting for us.
“Hey, Sofia!” she says, holding her plate away to wrap Sofia in a one-armed hug. She lets go and smiles at me next. “You must be Gracie. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Jae.”
“I amsoglad you two are finally meeting,” Sofia says as we shake hands. “Gracie, Jae is also an apparel extraordinaire and rents the studio above this one. She designs the most to-die-for, all-organic children’s clothing that sells out themomentshe posts new products.”
Jae nods and waves a hand, like breaking into the super-competitive luxury children’s market is NBD. “Sofia told me all about Grace & Veil and showed me pictures of some of your designs,” Jae says, excitement radiating from her. “I can’twaitto have you as my studio neighbor. Maybe even collaborate on some flower girl sets?” she suggests, her voice trailing enticingly.
