Playing for Keeps (24 page)

She pulled back, frowning at me. “Of course I’m back. The bridal shower is on Saturday.”

“Right.” Silly me. “Did you have a good time?”

She shrugged a particularly French shrug. “It was okay.”

I waited for her to explicate. When she didn’t I waved my hand. “Well?”

“Well what?” She sat down and picked up her beer.

“That’s it? Why are you drinking beer? You never drink beer. You think it tastes like piss.”

“I can change.” Her frown turned into a scowl. “I don’t understand why you people refuse to believe I can change.”

Obviously, she was a little jetlagged. “So what about Paris? Did you have a good time?”

Another shrug. “It was okay.”

George and I exchanged a glance. I sat down at the table across from her and waited for more. Nothing was forthcoming. Beyond weird. Nell never gave short, succinct answers when she could give a long, complicated story.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement. I mean, her need to go to Paris was dire, and now she was blasé about it all. I expected some excitement. I
needed
her to be excited about the trip. After all, I’d been holding down the fort for the past two weeks. Someone should have gotten something out of it.

Almost like an afterthought, Nell snapped her fingers at her dog. “George. Come here, boy.”

George cocked his ear and trotted out the still open kitchen door.

“Hey!” Nell turned her glare on me. “What have you done to my dog?”

“Nothing.” To tell the truth, I was as puzzled as Nell. I’d have thought George would have been ecstatic to have Nell back.

She pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’ve done something. He didn’t jump up on me or anything.”

“He’s probably just tired. We just got back from a walk.” It seemed as good an excuse as any.

“Maybe.”

Nell didn’t sound convinced, so I thought distraction was in order. “Riley must have been really happy to hear from you. He missed you a lot.”

It was the way her eyes darted away from my gaze that made me suspicious. “You’ve called Riley to tell him you’re back, right?”

“Well…” She fidgeted with the label on her beer bottle.

“Nell.”

“Don’t you dare use the ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ tone on me.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t called him. He’s been so worried the whole time you’ve been gone. I had to do some major convincing that you weren’t about to leave him. The least you can do is to call him. He’s your fiancé, and in a couple weeks he’s going to be your husband.”

“Humph.”

I wrinkled my nose. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound good. “He
is
going to be your husband, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Nell?” I tried to sound soothing but it was hard with my jaw muscles as tight as they were. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“You’re so goddamn relentless, Gracie.” She clenched her arms across her body. “I’m not backing out of the wedding now.”

Somehow that didn’t fill me with an abundance of reassurance. But I decided to chock it up to jetlag and let it go. For now.

“I have to go.” She got up and grabbed her purse, which hung on the doorknob like usual.

“That was a quick visit.” Not that I was complaining. If she were going to be pissy, she could go do it at her condo.

“I just came to pick up George.”

I blinked. “George?”

“Yeah. You know, my dog.”

“You’re taking George?”

“What, Gracie? Has your hearing gone downhill since I’ve been gone? That’s what I said.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you upset? You didn’t want George to begin with.”

Yeah, but George and I were buds now. I valiantly kept my lower lip from quivering. “I’m just surprised. Don’t you want some time to yourself to unwind after your trip?”

“No. I want to take my dog home.” She opened the door and whistled. “George, let’s go.”

I went to peek outside from behind Nell. At her whistle, George jumped up from the hole he was digging and ran for cover in the azalea bushes.

“
George
.” Nell marched to him and tried to pull him out. “Come on. We have to go home.”

He whined, a pitiful howl that my heart broke.

She finally managed to drag him out. George whimpered and looked at me like I’d betrayed him in the worst way possible. And I couldn’t do anything. Nell was right—he was her dog, not mine.

I watched as they got into her car and drove off. I resisted the urge to drive off after them and bring George back. He was her dog, not mine. If I repeated that another couple thousand times I might even start to believe it.

Chapter Nineteen

If you do not know your opponent or yourself, you will lose every single battle.

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“How was the bridal shower?”

“Girly.” I sighed as Pete slipped off my shoe and rubbed my left foot. Heaven. I wore sandals today, but being on your feet for twelve hours straight takes a toll regardless of how comfy your shoes were. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of his couch.

“Sounds fun.”

“Sure, you can be amused because you didn’t have to sit through hours of women squealing and talking dirty.”

He cocked a brow. “Talking dirty?”

“Yeah. Imagine locker room talk, only magnified fifty times.”

“Really?”

I cracked one eye open and frowned at him. “You don’t have to sound so interested.”

His lips tipped up. I would have leaned over and lapped at them if I’d had the energy. “Did
you
talk dirty?”

It was his tone of voice that got to me. It was husky and had a turned on edge to it. It made my nipples perk up and my girl parts tingle in anticipation. It was better than an intravenous shot of caffeine. “What if I did?”

His grin was all bad boy. “Care to tell me?”

Okay, I didn’t talk sex with the women at the party, but I could fake it with the best of them. I leaned over and whispered in his ears things I hadn’t even thought of in the dark of night in the privacy of my room.

He growled, picked me up, and carried me to his bed. Needless to say, I wasn’t feeling nearly as exhausted as I had been.

An hour later, I lay half on top of him, running my fingers over the strip of hair on his belly, boneless, my guard completely lowered. And then I opened my big mouth and suggested showing him my flower shop. Or rather, my potential flower shop.

I don’t know what I was thinking. One minute I was lying in bed with him, telling him about my plans for the flowers for the wedding, the next I was driving him over to the shop.

It was late, so we had no problem parking in front of the store. We got out of the car and walked up to the window.

I hadn’t been there in a couple months, so when I saw that the For Sale sign was still prominent in the window something inside me eased. I put my hands on the window and peered in. The mannequins were still there. I never thought I’d be so happy to see decrepit plastic body parts.

“I’m going to line that wall there with refrigerators, and I’ll decorate the walls with pictures of wildflower fields, like the ones you see from France.” I clutched Pete’s hand excitedly and gazed up at him.

He stared inside like he could see it, but there was a quizzical look on his face. “Have you made an offer on the building?”

“What?”

He turned to face me. “An offer on the building.”

“Well, no.”

“Why not?”

I blinked. “Because.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve planned your business to the degree that you know where every basket of flowers goes, but you haven’t made a move to make any of it reality?”

“It’s just not possible.”

“Why the hell not, Grace?”

I opened my mouth, all the usual excuses on the tip of my tongue—that I had no experience, that the economy sucked for new businesses, that my family needed me—but none of them came out. So I folded my arms across my chest and attacked. “You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What happens with all the furniture designs you draw?”

“What does that have anything to do with this?”

“It means that you shouldn’t point fingers when you’re hardly the poster child for living your dream.”

He drew back like I’d slapped him, and I wished I could take my words back.

Slowly and very carefully he said, “I like to design furniture, but I’m happier working with my brother. I don’t want to go at it like a business. I just like building a bench or something from time to time. If I had to do it full time, I’d be miserable.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t sit around and plan out a shop, down to the photos I’d hang on the wall.”

This time, I recoiled. “You don’t know what my life’s like. Don’t make judgments about what you can’t understand.”

“I understand more than you know.” His voice was ragged and the look in his eyes made my heart weep. “I understand you’re scared. I understand that you feel devotion to your family. But where do you draw the line?”

Pete didn’t let me answer. Not that I could if he had.

He took my shoulders in his hands and shook me ever so slightly. “You’re so much more than your family. When are you going to stop using them as an excuse and live your life?”

I pulled away from him. “I don’t excuse them as an excuse.”

“Yes, you do.” He ran a hand down my hair. “Grace, they don’t need you anymore. When are you going to see that? Your life is in limbo until you do.”

“No—”

“Yes it is. You won’t start your dream business even though opportunity has presented itself.”

“I have to help Daddy with the studio.”

“And you won’t even tell your family about us. We’re sneaking around like teenagers when all I want is to shout to the world that you’re mine.”

That shut me up.

He cupped my cheek. “Do you know that I’d like nothing more than to marry you? Only you’re so engrossed in Nell’s wedding that you won’t think of us. Hell, you won’t even let us out of the closet. A man’s ego is a fragile thing. Having a proposal turned down is a big blow.”

“You haven’t proposed,” I said faintly.

“You haven’t given me a chance.” He smiled sadly. “One day you’re going to look back and realize that you missed out on some of the best things in your life.”

Panic filled my chest so I could barely get the words out. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Grace.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger. “I love you. I’ll be patient, but I won’t wait forever.”

An ultimatum. I wanted to lash out at him. At the same time I knew he was justified.

He kissed my lips softly. “I love you, Grace, unconditionally, like your mom loved you. I can’t promise you I’ll live forever, but I’d never leave you willingly. Just like your mom.”

I jerked away from him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it. Do you think she’d like to know that her death made you retreat from life like this? Because no matter how well you insulate yourself, you’re still going to end up getting hurt.” He kissed me again and started to walk away, his hands in his pockets.

“Wait a minute.”

He turned around, his eyebrow cocked.

“Where are you going?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?” And he took off down the street.

Right then I realized I’d never had my heart shattered because it cracked right there at my feet. I don’t know how I did it, but I swept up the pieces and somehow drove home. I didn’t break down until after I threw myself on my bed.

My sobs choked me. I felt a strange sensation on my cheeks—touching them I realized it was tears.
Tears
. I never cried.

I tried to bury them in my pillow but apparently I wasn’t successful. My bedroom door burst open. I looked up to find Chloe in the doorway. Her eyes were wide with shock.

To Clo and Nell, tears fell as easily as they smiled. My emotions always bottled up inside me and got stuck. I’d been that way since our mom died. I doubted Chloe could remember me ever crying.

“Gracie,” she said hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

Okay
? I looked up at her incredulously and burst into another round of sobs.

It must have freaked her out because she promptly rushed out of my room and closed the door firmly behind her. It was just as well. I didn’t need an audience.

When my tears ran out, I went downstairs for some comfort food. I knew French fries would be hard to come by, so I settled for the next best thing: Kettle chips and a Coke.

I opened the pantry and looked in. I’d forgotten Nell had struck.

“God
damn
it!” I kicked the door shut and then spent several minutes hopping on one foot, nursing my bruised toes.

I muttered a few more choice swear words that were popular with my family. When I’d run out of steam, I slumped against the counter and took stock of my options.

1) I could hop in the car and drive to McDonald’s for fries.

I touched my eyes. I could just imagine how puffy they were. A trip anywhere out into the world was out.

2) I could get Chloe to go to McDonald’s for me.

Then I’d have to explain what happened and I didn’t want to get into that. I doubted Clo wanted to get into it either.

3) I could suffer and just have my Godiva strawberries.

Only my dad knew where they were hidden, so what were the chances that there were any left?

I checked under the sink, behind the cleaners, where I had them hidden.

No chance.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit something.

I wanted Pete.

Hand to my forehead, I slumped against the counter again. I’d really screwed this up. I wished my mom was there so I could talk to her.

“Gracie?”

I looked up to find Daddy in the doorway of the kitchen. Horrifyingly, my eyes filled up with tears again.

“Baby girl.” He held his arms out.

I ran into them like I had when I was a little girl with a skinned knee. I tried to hold my sob back but it wouldn’t be denied.