by Joachim Jean
Cara nodded, her mouth compressed into a thin line. “He deserved it and more.”
“What happened? We’re in the dark here,” Quinn piped up.
“I can’t say, Quinn. Grace swore me to secrecy.”
“Great! I’m working in the dark.” He threw his hands up.
“I have an idea. Let me make a phone call,” Cara said.
The others sat by quietly, watching her while she dialed. “Tiffany Cowles, please. Cara Brewster. Yes, I’ll hold.” She got up and walked across the room to the window. “Tiffany? Hi. Remember when you said if I ever needed anything? Actually, I do. It’s about Gunther Quill.”
Cara glanced at the others, who were listening to her conversation. She slowly walked into the dining room, out of earshot.
Susanna got up and turned on some music. “Let’s give her some privacy.”
* * * *
Grace moped around the house on Monday. Cara was out, Grant was working, and Sarah was at school. She missed Jake and wondered what he was doing on his day off. At the window, she spied the first robin of spring. Whipping out her phone, she went to text Jake but stopped.
I can’t tell him about a robin. He’s not my boyfriend any more. I can’t text him about anything. She heaved a deep and lonely sigh as she perched on the window seat, watching the sun trying to break through. Grace wracked her brain, attempting to think of ways to patch up her relationship with Jake. He had become almost as important to her as the air she breathed.
Only now did she see how much she turned to him first, thought of him first with a new idea, something she saw, a laugh, of any kind, or when she needed advice. She’d come to depend on his being there.
And as for affection and physical love, well, Jake was unequaled. She missed snuggling up against his warm body in bed. And his touch, good morning kiss, bear hugs…all parts of them together she had taken for granted. And lovemaking…well there weren’t words for how much she missed their intimacy. Now it was all gone, and while the world was coming into spring, Grace was entering a cold and solitary season of her life.
There were no more tears left. Unhappiness had morphed into sadness, regret, and anger at herself for her behavior. Why didn’t I believe he’d forgive me? Why didn’t I tell him when we talked about Gunther? That would have been the perfect time. He was in a forgiving mood. How can I blame him for not trusting me? I can’t. If he had kept such a big secret from me, I’d feel the same.
At eleven, she started preparing lunch. Although she didn’t know where Cara went or when she’d be back, she knew her sister had to eat. She pulled out some leftover chicken, grapes, cranberries, and walnuts and began making chicken salad. A little music on the radio seemed to help, until they played Matthew Morrison singing Summer Rain. The song made her think of making love with Jake. She shut it off and ignored the watering of her eyes.
As she was stirring in the walnuts, she heard the front door creak. “I’m home,” Cara called out.
Licking a little mayonnaise off her fingers, Grace met her sister in the hallway. “Lunch is ready. Where’d you go?”
“I’m starved.” Cara walked into the kitchen. Grace sensed she was avoiding the question. Cara set the table while Grace portioned out the tasty salad on a small bed of lettuce on each plate. A few slices of French bread and two glasses of mint iced tea finished off the meal.
“This looks great. Thank you, Pookie.”
“Pookie? Uh oh.” Cara cocked her head slightly when she raised her gaze to her sister. “That means you have bad news.”
“Does it?”
“You never noticed? You always call me ‘Pookie’ when you have to tell me something bad.”
“Okay, okay,” Cara took a forkful of salad and sat chewing while looking at Grace.
Grace sipped her tea. Her appetite had suddenly gone south. After swallowing, Cara launched into the story about Gunther’s call to Jake and his reaching out to her for help.
“That scumbag! After what he did to me?” Grace rose out of her chair and paced.
“I fixed it.” Grace slowly resumed her seat. “You did?”
Cara nodded.
“How?”
“I called Tiffany.” She smiled.
“Tiffany Cowles? You didn’t!” Grace’s mouth hung open.
“I did. She and I are friends, sort of.”
“And?”
“She’s going to call Gunther and tell him to back off or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I didn’t get into details. But it’s pretty crazy to buck Tiffany.”
“Don’t I know it.” Gracie looked at her cuticles.
“She didn’t mean to get Gunther on your back. Said she was teaching you a lesson.”
“I didn’t want to write any more of those nasty reviews. I’m not a nasty person.”
“I know, Pookie,” Cara patted Grace’s hand. “She’s running your glowing review of Jake’s movie, though it’s killing her,” she chuckled.
“Yeah?”
“To make it up to you.”
“Sweet.” Grace smiled. Good for Jake. “Did he say anything about us?”
“Jake?” Cara shook her head. “I didn’t ask, since you told me to butt out.”
“Damn,” she muttered.
Cara faced her sister and grabbed her shoulder. “Look! He cared enough about you to take this Gunther thing to Quinn and me.”
“Oh, God! He didn’t tell Quinn about Gunther?”
“Of course not. Neither did I.”
Grace let out a big breath.
“Obviously he cares for you.”
“But I destroyed what we had.” Grace hung her head, her fingers played with the hem of her sweater.
“So rebuild.”
“Easy to say…”
“Grant and I did.”
“You two were together for a long time. Have a kid…it’s not the same.”
“Do you love him?”
Grace nodded.
“Then try, Pookie. Try.” Cara pushed to her feet. Grace cleared the table. “Let me do those. You made lunch.”
“I don’t have anything to do.” Grace turned on the faucet.
“Find something. Read a book. Scoot,” Cara said, shooing her sister out of the room.
Grace went back to the window to see the sun poking through the gray clouds. She smiled. Her cell rang. The familiar song, Summer Rain, tinkled through the apartment. Maybe it’s Jake? She picked up the phone only to spy a strange number. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she spoke.
“Grace? Max Webster here.”
“The producer?”
“None other. About your screenplay. I love it. Can we meet?”
“Sure, sure. When?”
“How about lunch tomorrow? Say one at Limoges? Do you know where it is?”
“I do. I’ll be there. And thanks.”
“A pleasure.”
He hung up. A zing shot through her body, and she went to call Jake but put the brakes on when his number came up. I can’t call him. But I can’t not tell him. That’s keeping stuff from him…again. But he’s not my…but he did tell me…damn. Text him, Grace.
She sat down on the sofa and composed a text. After she hit send, she ran into the kitchen to tell her sister. As she was babbling on, her phone dinged. This time it was Jake.
Great news about your play. Congratulations. Hope Max buys it and pays you a boatload of money. Good luck.
Her smile melted into a frown as she noticed there was no love at the end of the message. Just as if he were only a friend. A heaviness lodged in her chest and breathing became difficult. She blinked back tears but couldn’t look Cara in the eye.
“Bad news?”
“Not good news.” Grace excused herself and retreated to her room. She shut the door and collapsed on the bed. It’s over, Grace. Face it. O-v-e-r. You screwed up. He’s gone.
After slipping between the sheets, Graced switched off the light. She lay for a while with her eyes op
en, staring into the darkness. Her mind couldn’t take in that Jake was out of her life. I can never be friends with him because I’ll never stop wanting him. The pain in her heart was like mourning for the loss of a loved one. It’s like a death. She sighed and tossed for a while, looking for a comfortable position. Finally, grief wore her out, and she fell into a fitful rest.
The next day, Grace dressed in a wool skirt and sweater and set out to walk to Limoges. It was a warm day for the end of March, and she turned her face up to the sun as she strolled down Central Park West. Her heart beat slowed under the weight of her emotions. She couldn’t let go of Jake. Stopping on a bench, she warred with herself whether to text Jake or not. He said something about having a talk. So it’s okay to ask about that.
She typed out her message about meeting, but her shaky hand hung back when it was time to press the send button. If he says no, then I’ll let it go…let him go? I don’t know if I can. May have no choice. She debated if she could take a negative response from him or not. Was this the time, just before meeting with Max to put herself out there? So many questions. Then she closed her eyes and hit send before she could chicken out. I have to know. Have to do this. Even if it’s bad.
Standing up on wobbly legs, Grace continued on her walk. She could see Limoges through the trees. The sound of the ding, alerting her to the arrival of a text, made her suck in air.
Yes. Want to talk. Sunday afternoon?
She let out her breath and allowed a small smile to stretch her lips. There’s hope!
Sunday’s good. What time?
She stopped to wait until the sound of a message arriving came again a few seconds later.
Dinner at seven? My place or Panama?
Panama had become their new favorite restaurant.
You pick.
Okay. Here. Order in Chinese?
Perfect.
How was she going to wait until Sunday? A glance at her watch told her if she didn’t make tracks quickly, she’d be late to meet Max. Crap! Picking up the pace, Grace’s step had lightened a bit at the thought of meeting with Jake. And if we’re at his place, maybe I can seduce him into…Stop! Honest talk. Nothing more. Yeah, right. Her smile got bigger at the thought of being in his arms again.
Before she knew it, she was at the front door of Limoges then being shown to Max Webster’s table.
* * * *
Quinn tried to give Jake advice about Grace, but Susanna interrupted and told him to discount what her husband said. Jake laughed but listened when Susanna sat him down.
“She’s coming over tonight?”
“Yeah. To talk.” He rested his palms on his thighs.
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t heard from her since the dance contest.”
“She’s probably waiting for you to say something.”
“Great.” He hung his head.
“Do you love her? Sorry for being so personal…”
“No, no, that’s all right. Yeah. I do. Miss her like crazy. But the trust thing is a problem.”
“Can you tell her you need her to be honest with you…all the time?”
“I can tell her but my saying and her doing, well…” He joined and unjoined his fingers. “How will I know for sure if she’s being honest?”
“You won’t.”
“See? That’s my dilemma. What if it were about another guy? I’d go nuts.”
“Do you think she’d do that?”
He shook his head. “She’d never two-time me.”
“You sound so sure.”
“She’s had chances. She knows…about my past. That would be the end. It’d kill me.”
“If you’re so sure of that, then why are you hesitating?”
“She says she was afraid to tell me, but when it came out, I was madder than I’d have been if she’d told me. At least I think I was.”
“She was afraid you’d be mad, and then you were mad. What’s wrong here?”
“What?”
“She was right. You were mad, twice as mad. Probably confirmed her decision not to tell you.”
“Never saw it like that.”
“Maybe it’s the way she saw it?”
“Thanks, Susanna.” Jake gave her a hug and headed home, feeling stronger than he had for days. Gracie, will you come back to me? As he walked, he wondered if his silence hadn’t hardened her resolve to leave him. Stupid! His palms began to sweat and the collar of his shirt seemed to tighten.
Jake kept himself busy arranging for singing and dancing lessons in addition to his evenings and matinée performances. Sunday came soon enough. After the afternoon show, he raced home to clean house. He ordered Grace’s favorite dishes from The Yangtse, their local Chinese restaurant. Fried dumplings, hot and sour soup, and crispy prawns with walnuts were on the way.
He took a shower and brushed his teeth. Sex? Tonight? Hope so, but maybe not. Still should be prepared. He checked the night stand for condoms. His pulse kicked up at the idea of getting her back in his bed. It had already been too long. Jake was horny, itchy to touch and kiss her.
Talk! Gonna talk first. He tried to calm his libido, but it was a struggle. If she comes in dressed sexy, it’s all over for me. He laughed at his own weakness. If I want her that much, does it mean I love her? Or is it only lust? Maybe both.
He chuckled as he slapped on Macho, his favorite aftershave. He stroked his cheek. He’d managed to shave it down to just the right length for his stubble to be sexy but not annoying. Keeping it the right length was a chore, but he was getting better at it. Gracie likes some growth on my face. He smiled into the mirror. Don’t hate me, baby.
The buzzer sounded as he was pulling a T-shirt over his head. He pressed the buzzer and a serious set of nerves kicked in. He was sweating, breathing heavy, and couldn’t stand still. All the signs he was in love. Ugh. Gotta be cool. Rational.
He opened the door. She looked up, and their eyes locked. He saw fear, and his heart melted. Don’t be afraid of me, Gracie. Please.
“Come in, Come in.”
She shed her coat, and he hung it on a hook.
When she turned to face him, she was wearing a big sweater that fell off one shoulder. It was midnight blue, bringing out the color of her eyes. He could see her jiggle. No bra. He swallowed as his gaze slid down her body, from the sweater to the tight, light blue jeans hugging her hips and flaring at the bottom in a flattering boot cut style. His mouth went dry as he mentally stripped her naked. Stop! Talk. Need to talk.
He took her hand and led her to the little table that was his dining room.
“Dinner. All your favorites.” He opened container after container. Tempting aromas of Chinese delicacies filled the air. His stomach growled. Feed one appetite at a time. Talk! Controlling his sex drive was going to be a bigger problem than he anticipated. How can I ever forget making love to her? She’s so tempting.
“Thanks. I’m not very hungry.” Grace put two dumplings on her plate and two shrimp.
“No soup? It’s so cold outside.”
“Yeah, but…I’m not hungry.” She nibbled on her food, watching him chow down.
Then he opened a container of soup and tasted it. “Ow, hot but good.”
“You okay?”
He nodded, touching his lip gingerly. I love it when she takes care of me. Stop! Talk. Only talk. She talks. I listen.
“You wanted to talk,” she began, picking up her dumpling with chopsticks.
“Yeah. I thought we should. I mean…what happened. Seemed to blow us apart and…well…I don’t—” He stopped. What should I say?
“Go on.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me what you want. Do you want to break up? Become only friends? Or stay together?” Her face paled as she spoke. She was so white, he thought she’d faint.
“Are you all right, Grace? Do you want to lie down? You’re awfully pale.”
“Lie down? Trying to get me into bed?” He
r eyes flashed.
“Of course not. I thought you were going to pass out. Are you sick?” Getting you into bed would be heaven.
“I’m not sick. I…I was feeling a little weak for a moment.”
“Maybe you need food.”
“I’m fine.”
“Glass of wine? I have your favorite brand, Velvet Vineyards.”
“Trying to get me drunk so I’ll sleep with you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What’s going on? These are innocent remarks.”
“Trying to tell me you don’t want to sleep with me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then you do want to sleep with me.”
“What happened to our talk?” Helplessness overcame Jake. Nothing he said came out right.
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Of course. You know that.”
“Do I? Do I? I don’t hear from you for a week and…” Grace broke down. She hid her face with her hands, but Jake saw the wetness.
He was destroyed. He had made her cry. In a heartbeat, he was beside her, taking her into his arms. “Don’t cry, Gracie. Baby, don’t cry.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m confused,” she wailed.
“So am I.”
“You’re so cold, then you buy my favorite foods and you’re so nice…what is it, nice or cold? Love or hate?”
He held her to him and stroked her hair. Grace snaked her arms around his middle and hugged him, burying her face in his chest, wetting his T-shirt with her tears.
“I don’t hate you, Gracie, honey. I could never hate you.”
“But you don’t love me.”
“Can we try this talk again? Can we talk about trust?”
“Okay. Trust.” Grace wiped her eyes with her hand and sat back, easing away from Jake.
“Yeah. I trusted you, and now I’ve lost a lotta that trust. I don’t know if you’re going to hide stuff from me because you’re afraid it’ll make me mad.”
“I promise never to do that again.”
“Are you afraid when I get mad? Do I scare you?”