It took me a full three minutes of deep breathing to calm down from that one. I had no idea that going the donor route could be so expensive. I wasn’t prepared for that, but I guess I’m going to have to face it. And the longer I wait, the more and more likely it will be that IVF is the only route left.
I frown as I drift to the rack across from me. I touch a bright red dress, almost scandalous with its low-cut neckline and daring side slit hem.
“Ooooh,” Diane says. “Oh, it’s perfect!”
“Oh… I don’t know. It’s not right for me, I think,” I say absently.
Diane shoots me a look. “It’s for me.”
She grabs the dress in my hand and passes it to Tessa, who beams at us.
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head at myself. “Right.”
I need to snap out of it. I take in a deep breath and smooth out the sweater I’m wearing. The simple black cotton feels rough compared to the red number.
“I’ll start you a fitting room,” Tessa says to Diane.
“Uh huh,” Diane says, her attention elsewhere. “Oh, look at this.”
Resisting my urge to roll my eyes, I move to another rack. Biting my bottom lip, I look up covertly and search for a clearance section, but there isn’t one. Taking a deep breath, I try to loosen up a bit. Diane is oblivious to my discomfort, which is nice for once.
A flash of blue catches my eye, a hue just a bit lighter than the color of the ocean. I flip through the dresses until I find it. It’s part of a slinky little silk number, ruched at the seams.
I touch the dress, smiling at the way it slips between my fingertips. I think this shade would be perfect. I’ll match Charlie, but it won’t look like I’m trying too hard to fit into the wedding party. It’s perfect, I think.
“Do you want to try that on?” Tessa says, startling me.
“Err… okay,” I say, forcing a small smile as my heart settles.
I really shouldn’t, at least not before I check the price tag. But Tessa is already whisking it off to the fitting rooms. I follow behind her, to the back of the store. My brows raise when I see that the fitting rooms are the same size as the rest of the store, with good lighting.
Someone put some real thought into the layout of the store.
“Right through here,” Tessa says, gesturing to the stall with my dress in it.
“Grace, are you in here?” Diane says, her voice reverberating off the stall walls.
“I’m right here,” I say, putting my purse down in my own stall and locking the door.
“Oh, good. Okay, I’m trying stuff on. You’ll tell me if it makes me look fat, right?”
“Uh, sure,” I mutter noncommittally.
I know damn well she just wants her skinny ass complimented.
I wriggle out of my sweater and shuck my jeans. Unzipping the back of the dress, I glance at the tag but refuse to actually look at it before I slip the dress on over my boyshort panties and bra. I zip it up, reaching behind me and wiggling a little to get it all the way up, then look at it in the mirror.
I suck in a breath, pulling the dress down as my eyes travel the length of the mirror. Even barefoot, there is no doubt this dress looks amazing. I step closer, admiring the sweetheart construction. The dress is short sleeved and falls mid-thigh. It looks…
Damn. I’m afraid to look at the price tag, because I have to get this dress. It’s flattering in all the right ways.
It would be hard to say no to me in this dress. To anything I could ask for...
Well, almost anything, anyway.
I turn to the side, putting my hand on my stomach. My perfectly flat stomach. I can imagine how it would look to be carrying a baby.
I watch my shoulders slump.
Maybe there’s a reason that getting a sperm donor will cost so much. Maybe some people just aren't meant to have kids, and I'm one of those people.
It’s funny, I always thought that I would be a mom, with three or four kids hanging off me at all times. In the past, whenever I pictured my future self, I always saw children with me.
I did everything I was supposed to. I concentrated on school, and once I earned my degree, I got a good job. But somewhere along the way I was supposed to just magically find a partner to share it all with, who would celebrate with me when I found out I was pregnant.
Now I look at myself in the mirror, and for all my accomplishments, all I can see is what I lack. I can’t look at myself and smile, because I know that there’s a very good chance I’ll end up childless. And if I eventually find Mr. Right, I can’t give him kids.
I try to talk myself down from the crazy ledge I’ve put myself up on, but it’s impossible. I turn just as Diane knocks at my door before trying to whip it open.
“What are you doing? Come look. I don’t know about this one…” Diane says from behind the door. “I think I’m going to just pass.”
Meanwhile, I’m trying to ignore the prick of tears at the back of my eyes, trying not to think of how cute baby shoes are, how I’ll never have a reason to assemble the antique crib that my mother gave me.
I’m silently freaking out, and totally ashamed of it. It’s only when Diane knocks on the fitting room door again that I’m able to pull myself together.
“Come look at this one,” she demands. “I think this is the one.”
I wipe at my eyes and step out.
“That dress is awesome,” she says, looking at me. “Do you think they have it in my size?”
I frown. “I’m buying this dress.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“You just called it awesome.”
“Well, I meant… you know, it would be awesome in a smaller size.”
I grit my teeth. Diane is so caught up in her size, she probably really does think that.
“I’m still buying it. And I’m wearing it to the wedding,” I say stubbornly.
“Ugh. Okay. Well, what do you think of my outfit?”
She twirls in a circle. She’s wearing a two-piece dress made of a vaguely shiny purple material.
“You look like a confused eggplant,” I say, eyeing her outfit critically.
She blows out a breath. “Whatever. This shop doesn’t have anything cute anyway.”
What about my dress? I think and roll my eyes.
She disappears back into her changing stall, and I do, too.
“Hey, are you ready? I think I want to stop at the food court before we go, get a sugar-free, fat-free froyo.” Diane’s voice is so full of happiness, like she’s mocking me.
“Uh, just a second,” I call out. I unzip the dress. “I’ll be right there.”
“Okay. I’ll be looking at the jewelry.”
I put the dress back on the hanger, listening to her footsteps fade as she leaves the fitting room area, then take a deep breath. I look at the dress for a long moment, knowing that I won’t find anything nearly as pretty anywhere else.
And I’ll match Charlie. I’ll look good next to him in this dress. I’ll look like I could be his real girlfriend, like it’s not make-believe.
I shimmy back into my jeans and sweater, then consider the dress once more. It only takes one more look at the dress before I scoop it up and head for the register.
Chapter 10
Charlie
My eyes keep drifting to the entrance of the bar. I’m waiting for her. For that shy smile to greet me. I want to watch her sweet curves walk through those doors. I’m ready for Grace to act like she’s not affected by me, but all the while that blush creeps up to her cheeks.
I check the clock again and clear my throat. I frown at the faint itch in my throat that’s nagging me.
I’ve been waiting all night. She’s usually here by now.
The faint hum of the televisions behind me and the chatter in the bar keep me company as I go through paperwork, sitting at a table. James is back on bartending duty. I look over my shoulder to take a peek at him, propping my feet up on the chair across from me. I try to relax.
My chair scrapes the floor as I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable in the back right corner. I’ve got a perfect shot of the front entrance. I’m right next to the end of the bar. It’s the closest I could be to Grace’s usual seat.
The papers rustle in my hands as I go through all the bills again. We’re making a damn good profit and the return on investments just keeps going up when it’s not holding steady. I almost feel like I can breathe. Like I can take a damn break, but I know it’ll only take one hiccup to have something fucked up.
I sit up straight in the seat, moving my feet to the floor. I try to get this weird feeling to leave me. I need a beer. I need to relax.
I need my sweetheart to get her ass in here.
My eyes drift to my phone, face down on the tabletop. My foot taps relentlessly on the floor. It’s really not like her to be this late. It’s almost eight o'clock.
I stare at my phone for a long moment, debating on shooting her a text. She hasn’t messaged me since the other morning.
I blow out a breath. It’s not like any of this is real anyhow. It’s just flirting.
I lean back in my seat and grab my pen to tally up the bills in my record book. So far, so good. Everything’s looking on point and within budget as I scribble down the amounts.
“Charlie, are these seats taken?”
My hand stops mid-stroke as I hear my mother’s voice.
“He saved them for us,” I hear Ali say.
I lower the notebook and give them both a tight smile. I don’t know what it is about my family coming to my bar. Part of the reason I built this bar was to get them out of mind. To get the whole damn town out of my head.
But I can never say no to Ma. Or to Ali. And the town fucking followed me here anyway. Not like my bank account complains.
“Pull up a chair,” I tell Ma. I lean over and let her kiss me on the cheek.
I can feel her lipstick smudge on my cheek, and I wait for her to look back at the bar before I wipe it off.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask them. I set the papers down. My eyes flicker to the entrance again, and this time it’s a different kind of anxiety running through me. They saw her picture. If she walks through that door, I’m fucked.
“We just wanted to see you,” my mother says in a sweet voice.
“You just saw me, Ma.”
My mom smacks my hand playfully, “You know what I mean.”
“Did you get your suit fitted?” my sister asks me, a real sense of urgency in her voice.
I nod my head once, but I can’t look her in the eye as my mouth opens. Fucking hell. I scratch the back of my head, looking toward the door again.
“Charles Theodore,” my mother scolds me, “you need to get your tux fitted!” She smacks me on the arm with the tall menu on the table. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but luckily I don’t have to respond.
“It’s a suit,” Ali says as she yanks the menu from Ma’s hands. “I don’t want tuxes.”
“I don’t understand you, girl,” Ma shakes her head, but there’s a playfulness to her tone.
“Can I get y’all anything to drink?” I hear James over my shoulder, and I turn to look. He shouldn’t have left the bar, but a quick look shows that it’s just the regulars. And it’s not like Maggie is going to come over here. Everyone knows Ma and Ali… and the rest of my family.
“No, no thank you,” Ma says and pushes off the table, “we’re having a late dinner down at Iron Grill.” An immediate sense of relief comes over me as I realize they’re leaving. “I just wanted to stop in and say hi to my baby boy.”
I can’t help the flaming blush rising to my cheeks. I’ll be sixty years old and she’ll still be calling me her baby boy, I know it. I stand up to give them both a quick farewell hug when I see Grace walk in from the corner of my eye.
Fuck.
My heart hammers in my chest, and it beats even faster when Ali follows my line of sight and squeals.
“No way! Grace!” A wide smile accompanies Ali as she practically runs to greet a wide-eyed and surprised Grace a few feet from the entrance.
“So-” Ali lets her go as I walk up with Ma in tow.
“Hi there, Grace,” Ma’s voice is lower than usual as she takes Grace in. Her eyes travel down the blush-colored blouse Grace is wearing, and a smile finally ticks up on Ma’s face.
Damn right. There’s not a single reason Ma shouldn’t like Grace. She’s sweet from head to toe, and smart. And looking to really settle down.
Ma should like that, even if I don’t.
“Hi,” Grace looks between the two of them, visibly swallowing as she moves the clutch in her hands back and forth and then stares at me with a pleading look.
“Just go along with it, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear as I give her a small peck on the cheek, followed by a hug. All for show for my family. Just go along with it. Please.
“Ali,” I say, looking at my sister and then Ma, “Ma, this is Grace.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Same to you,” Grace says in a sweet voice as she smiles shyly and bites down on her lip.
“So like I started to say,” Ali says quickly, “I know we have to go,” she looks at Ma and then back at Grace, “but I was wondering...” Her voice gets a little higher as she sways back and forth and looks like she’s holding her breath for a minute.
What the hell does she have up her sleeve?
“Would you like to be my bridesmaid?” Ali says quickly, and I swear all the blood drains from my face. “It’s a small, intimate wedding. Low commitment. Really not a huge deal in terms of setting things up or anything. You don’t have to even get a dress. The girls are all wearing their own thing. I just really would love it if you would be in it.”
Grace’s expression stays completely the same with the exception of her brows raising. I’d laugh if I wasn’t mortified.
“It’s less than two weeks away-” I try to cut in and give Grace an excuse.
“Nonsense,” Ali says with a hurt look. “There’s nothing to it.” She shakes her head and gives Grace those puppy dog eyes that let her get away with murder growing up.
“I don’t have time to really…” Grace swallows thickly and tries to say no, politely.
“It would mean the world to me,” Ali says and reaches out and grabs Grace’s hand. “I know this seems out of the blue, but it’s just that Charlie hasn’t had anyone serious in his life in so long and I really want to welcome you into the family. The numbers are uneven, too. Michael has an extra groomsman.”
I close my eyes, completely embarrassed and mortified.
It’s quiet a moment, but as I slowly open my eyes I see Grace slowly nodding her head.
“Yay!” Ali squeals again, jumping up and down while hanging on Grace’s shoulder. Shit, I feel like an asshole dragging Grace into this. “I have a dress appointment next week if you want to come. It’s going to work out perfectly. This was meant to be. I just know it is.”
Before I can tell my sister how ridiculous she is, she’s dragging Ma out of the bar. Grace stands in place, holding onto the clutch like it’s going to save her.
“It was nice to meet you, Grace,” Ma says.
“I’ll see you soon, Grace! Charlie give her my number,” and with that, calling out over her shoulder, they're gone and I’m left alone with Grace.
Her mouth hangs open a moment in complete shock.
“You alright?” I ask her warily.
“I just… did I really just agree to be your sister’s bridesmaid?”
A smile forces its way onto my face as I see Grace look around her like she just got swindled.
“You did,” I tell her easily.
“Holy shit,” she says with a smile. “I need
a drink… you’re buying this time.”
I chuckle at her, rough and low and follow her over to the bar.
“You got it, sweetheart.”
Chapter 11
Grace
It’s late, definitely after five o'clock already. I look around at the cubicles at my office and find them empty. I slide my headphones off and hit pause on the music I'm listening to.
Looking at the clock, it’s almost six. Yep, it’s past quitting time for most of my coworkers. I exhale and push myself back from my desk, physically separating myself from my work.
I spent the day working up some new ads for a health food company, and I think they’re pretty good. Still, it’s always a good idea to sleep on it, and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow.
Standing up I crack my neck, and pick up the now-empty coffee cup Tracey brought earlier. I probably need some water to balance out the crapload of caffeine I put in my body today.
I head to the kitchen, where they keep a filtered water cooler and stumble on Diane, talking with Elaine and Karan, two of my coworkers.
“Oh! Hey,” I say, tossing my coffee cup in the trash can next to them. “I came in here for some water. Didn’t realize anybody was still here!”
“I saw you at your desk, but you had your headphones on,” says Karan, a pretty girl of Middle Eastern descent. She has a bit of British in her accent, though it’s slowly fading. “I thought it would be better not to disturb you.”
“Probably better,” I admit sheepishly.
“Elaine was just telling us about getting hit on at the bar,” Diane says. “Right, Elaine?”
Elaine is the new girl at our company. She has dark hair and porcelain skin, which turns bright red as she blushes.
“Well, I wouldn’t say hit on,” she stammers. “I was just saying, a guy I’ve liked for a while talked to me for a long time.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, moving past them and grabbing a glass.
“I hear that our Grace got asked out by Charlie,” Diane teases.
I freeze with the glass in my hand. Everyone who knows Diane at all has been introduced to Mac's, and by association, Charlie. I shoot Diane a scolding look as I fill the glass with water, but she ignores it.
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