He shrugs. “I’m pretty good at glaring people into submission.”
“I don’t know… it’s my mom’s sixtieth. If I make sure everything goes perfectly, then maybe—”
“They’ll suddenly sprout new personalities despite thirty years of evidence to the contrary?”
“What happened to folding in the face of hope?”
“I only do that withmyfamily, silly. You should know by now that I have no problem being an asshole to everyone else.”
I snort against my will. “Or charming them into doing whatever you want.”
He lowers his eyes to where our hands are entwined on my borrowed hoodie. “I knowyescan feel like the best shortcut to some overdue respect,” he says, gliding his thumb over mine, “but there’s a lot more power in the wordno. And even if they don’t see it atfirst, kindness, too. Saying no allows people to take responsibility for their own lives. Saying yes just denies them the opportunity to grow.”
“You make it sound like I’ve been the one holdingthemback,” I say, feeling a little defensive. “You don’t know how clear they’ve made it thatthisis how I’m expected to contribute since I don’t—”
I stop, emotion tightening my chest.
“Since you don’t what?”
I take a breath. After sharing so much with him, I feel overexposed. But tonight, he told me about his tattoos and his DV work. His walls are still firmly in place, but he trusted me enough to remove a few bricks. So, I say it.
“Belong.” I’m quiet for a moment. “When my parents separated and suddenly had their new, perfect-fit families, I sort of became that extra IKEA bolt—related, but confusing and unnecessary.”
“So you made yourself useful,” he says quietly.
I nod, unable to speak. Jude’s hands are gentle but insistent as he pulls me closer. When I’m lying against his chest with his arms wrapped around me, every nervous voice inside of me settles. Maybe a cookie-cutter relationship isn’t in the cards for us. But I’m starting to think that finding someone who clearly sees the most jagged pieces of your heart and still wants to gather you close matters more than fitting any mold.
He kisses the top of my head. “You shouldn’t have to do a job that belongs on payroll to feel seen by your family. If you never stop, you’ll never find out if they’ll show up for you.”
“But what if they don’t? I didn’t have anything to offer them growing up, and they were happy enough to pass me off to Sofia’s family every chance they got.”
Jude’s arms tighten around me. “If they don’t want to know someone as giving, talented, and hardworking as you, then they’re fucking idiots, Gracie. At a certain point, all you can do is step back and grieve. You lean on the people whodoluh-preciate you.”
Is it possible to shrink a duplicate of this man down to pocket size and carry him around with me everywhere? There’s no judgment or frustration in his tone—just understanding paired with a clear (if difficult) path forward.
“What do I owe you for the therapy session?” I ask.
He smiles faintly. “You could say yes to letting me come with you.”
“You’d really come with me to my mom’s house?”
“It’s not in the bowels of Mordor, is it?”
“Are you saying youwouldn’tjourney with me to Mordor?”
“Lately, I’ve been going every weekend.”
I smack his shoulder. “Hush. Lucky for you, she’s just in Pawtucket.”
He chuckles, and at that moment, Taco saunters in, lightly hopping onto the coffee table. She sits and stares unblinkingly at me with her bright yellow eyes as though to sayWell? I’m here for my appointment.
“And how was your UN address, Madame President?” I coo, reaching out a hand to let her sniff me. “Did they accept your plan for world domination?”
Just like last time, she headbutts my hand and begins to purr when I pet her.
“Oh sure,” Jude says, rolling his eyes at Taco. “Just ignore the guy who picks up your poop every night.”
“The heart wants what it wants,” I say simply.
