“Sorry to hear that,” I tell him, the beer right there at my lips. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know shit about babies.
He lets out a heavy sigh, “It’s alright.” His eyes are distant when I look at him. He’s got a few days’ worth of scruff and I’m only now noticing the dark bags under his eyes. He huffs out a small laugh and takes another sip of his beer. “She’s a daddy’s girl.”
A sparkle hits his eyes, and I finally ease up some.
“Yeah, that’s what Cheryl says.”
He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “At like two in the morning, every morning, she’s up. She doesn’t want me then.” He makes a face with wide eyes and it makes me laugh as he takes another drink. “But any other time, she’s my baby girl.”
The pride in his voice makes me smile. “I’m real happy for you two.”
He nods at me, a smile still on his face and then he says, “I always thought you’d have one first.”
I grunt a response, “I’d need a woman to make that happen.”
“You had one when I first met ya.” My body tenses some. I know Ma’s always bringing it up around everyone. She’s always pushing me to settle down, but I don’t need to hear it from anyone else. I only put up with it from Ma, cause she’s my ma.
“I’m just sayin’,” Joseph takes a deep drink. “You’d make a good dad, if you ever wanted to.”
I stand up and stretch, not looking Joseph in the eyes. “Yeah, well. Maybe one day.”
I take a few steps, but turn when I don’t hear Joseph following me. I face him and he’s just sitting there casually, looking at me like he’s waiting for something.
“I heard you got a woman.”
I run my hand over my face. Why’s everyone gotta complicate everything? I don’t need anyone in my business or trying to push things one way or the other with me and Grace.
“She’s nice,” I tell him.
“She’s in the wedding?” Joseph’s got a cocky smile on his face and it breaks the tension. I let out a laugh as he stands up, taking another drink. “Must be serious if she’s in the wedding.”
I just shake my head and stare at the back wall, at the unfinished bar. I need to get down here and finish this room off. “She’s real sweet. An artist.” I add the last part absently.
“Like a real artist?” I look back at my brother-in-law to see his face twisted, and his forehead pinched.
I shove my hands in my pockets and answer, “Yeah. She’s damn good at what she does.” I think about mentioning the painting, but there’s no fucking way he’s seeing it. No one is. It’s going right where it belongs in my bedroom. That’s where she belongs.
“She paints and she’s a graphic designer, too.”
“Oh, good career.” His voice picks up a bit as he nods.
“Yeah I bet,” I answer him. When I bought the bar, Joseph was the only one who backed my decision. Everyone else told me not to pull the trigger, saying it was too risky. That it wasn’t a real career. But Joseph was right there. He gave me the pen to sign the papers with.
“So two stable people, two good jobs.” Joseph’s voice carries a bit.
“We just started seeing each other.” Even though my voice is harder than it should be he’s unaffected.
He throws his hands up comically. “I’m just saying, you seem happy lately.”
I don’t get where he’s coming from. “I’m fine,” I tell him, shaking my head and pulling my hands out.
“Yeah. There’s fine, and then there’s happy. You're happy.”
My lips part to say something back, but I don’t know what he wants. I just don’t want people making a big deal of this and expecting something. It’s just fun.
“A wife would look good on you.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” the words spill out of my mouth.
“You still got that ring?” he asks me. Susanne’s ring. An engagement ring I spent all of my savings on. Thinking about it now, half a carat and as simple as they come, there’s not much to it. Just like the relationship I had with the woman who wore it.
“No,” the lie comes out easy. He snorts, like he knows I’m lying as he tosses his empty beer can into the trash and almost grabs another. But then he stops himself.
“I gotta get home,” he says before stretching and letting out a yawn.
I toss my beer in the trash and leave the rest where they are. I need to get going, too.
The wooden stairs creak as we walk up the rickety steps. He opens the door at the top as I flick the light switch off. The afternoon daylight filters in the stairs.
Almost time for work. Always working.
That day off with Grace made me realize how much I’m sacrificing. What I could be doing if I wasn’t at the bar all the damn time.
It’s not an option yet, but I finally let Maggie go through applications for a manager.
“Let me know if it quits again,” Joseph says as he heads to the door.
“Will do,” I stand in the foyer as he slips on his boots. “You coming on Sunday?” He missed the last two family dinners. I know he doesn’t need anyone nagging him, I’m just curious.
“Yeah, I should be able to. I think we’re getting into the flow of things.” I can see the hint of relief in his expression as he nods his head.
“Alright then,” I tell him as he reaches in for a quick hug.
“See you Sunday,” he says, turning to leave.
“See you Sunday,” I repeat, shoving my hands into my pockets and watching him go. My voice is lowered, and I’m not sure if he hears me or not. But it’s alright.
Joseph shuts the door behind him, and I head upstairs to grab my wallet and keys so I can get going, too. As I shove the wallet into my back pocket, my eyes flicker to my dresser.
I don’t even think about walking over and pulling out the top drawer where the ring is. It just happens.
The small diamond twinkles. It looks brand new, as if my ex never even wore it. The thought makes me happier than it should. I wish I’d never given it to her. I felt obligated to. As I stare at the ring, the memories come flooding back.
I was her first, and her high school sweetheart. Not that there was anything sweet about her. We had some alright moments, but I felt chained to her. After all, everyone knew what we’d done.
They expected us to stay together. They expected all the little boxes to get checked off, and for us to do what we were supposed to. Her cheating on me was one of the best things that could’ve happened. It gave me an out. A heavy weight lifts off my shoulders as I realize how true that statement is.
And how fucking sad it is, that I would’ve married her, even knowing I never really loved her. Maybe back then I thought that was what life was supposed to be. But right here and now, no. I didn’t love her. She damn sure didn’t love me.
As the thought hits me, my phone beeps in my back pocket.
My first thought is that it’s Grace. I’m surprised by how disappointed I am when I see it’s Cheryl.
Did Joseph leave yet?
* * *
MY POOR SISTER. All alone with little Miss Evie. I can just imagine her rocking Evie while sending this text and listening to her baby girl cry. It’s all a phase. But I already know she’s going to miss it when Evie’s over it. Maybe not the crying, but the wanting to be held. Shit, Joseph may miss it even more.
Just left. I type the message and add, Love you, just as she sends back her response.
* * *
THANKS. Love you.
* * *
THE TRACE of a smile picks my lips up, but then I see the time. Shit. I have to get my ass going. The ring flips back and forth as I roll my fingers over the thin band, making my way out.
There’s no way in hell I’m not getting married. My ma would kill me. Just the thought makes my steps down the stairs lighter. I’m not getting any younger. And it’s about damn time I had someone in my life. Someone like Grace. I don’t know if she’s the one. My heart
flips at the thought of her in a white dress.
I want her, I know that much. But I don’t have to know any more than that. She’s mine for now, and we’re both enjoying ourselves. That’s what matters. There’s no need to put a label on it.
I grab my jacket off the coatrack and slip on my boots. She should be there tonight, but she’s got a thing with my sister first. A deep chuckle vibrates up my chest. I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say about that.
Before I get in the car, I slip the ring in my pocket, knowing the church right up the street has a donation bin. I’m tossing the ring in there before I get to work. I need it gone and out of my life. There’s no way I’d give this ring to my wife. All this ring represents is my past. It was meant for Suzanne.
I never wanted her back. That ring was just a reminder of what I was going to end up with.
I’ll never settle. As that thought passes through my mind, I realize I should’ve thrown that damn thing away a long time ago.
CHAPTER 19
Grace
* * *
I PEEK at my phone again, reading the text from Charlie’s sister Ali, sent to all the women in the bridal party.
Let’s meet at 1 p.m. at Monique’s Bridal! There will be champagne. :)
I take a deep breath, staring out my car window at Monique’s Bridal. I see a gaggle of girls come around the corner, and spot Alianna in the middle of them.
A mix of emotions are running through me, but I shove them down and get out of the car, crossing the street toward them.
“Oh, it’s Grace!” Ali says. “I’m so glad you came!”
She hugs me, and it only makes the anxiety grow stronger. I’m not much of a hugger, but I let it happen. I already feel guilty for being on this shopping trip, seeing as how I'm not really dating Charlie. No need to make it weird on top of that. But they don’t know that.
“No problem!” I say, trying to make my voice sound upbeat.
“Let me make introductions before we go inside,” Ali says. “This is Lindsay, Sam, and Ellie.”
She gestures to three women. Two of them are petite and blonde like Ali herself, and they’re dressed as preppy as J. Crew models. Ellie seems to be the odd one out, tall and thin, dark-haired and wearing an artsy, hot pink dress. Cheryl isn’t coming, but she’s the last bridesmaid. She texted in the group message that she hadn’t slept at all with Evie being up all night.
“Hi,” I say. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”
“Ladies, this is Grace. She’s dating Charlie.”
I note the looks of total surprise on all three of their faces, followed by a look on Lindsay’s face like she smelled something rotten. I assume that look isn’t directed at me, but I’m mildly offended anyway.
I guess Diane isn’t the only one to have the hots for Charlie.
Sam and Ellie say hello, but Lindsay just gives me a tight smile. Luckily, Ali is too caught up in starting the dress shopping to notice. My heart races and the nerves build up even more as she ushers everyone toward the store.
“Come on! Let’s go in,” Ali says, looking excited.
The window display has a lady mannequin dressed in what I assume is the height of bridal couture. The dress is white satin, tightly fitted and turned to the side to showcase the low-cut back.
It makes me wonder what kind of dress Ali is looking for, exactly.
We head toward the back; Ali knows just where to go. There’s a single podium, empty at the moment, and a curved wall that blocks the rest of the store from sight. All the decor is colored in shades of cream and pastel pink.
I blink, the bright lights and bridal attire feeling overwhelming. Before anyone can say anything, an elegant older lady arrives in a cloud of perfume and pink satin. Her graying hair and thin frame fit in with the store.
“Hello, hello,” she speaks clearly, but with a Parisian accent. “You’re here for Alianna?”
“Yes! That’s me,” Ali says.
“Bien. I’m Monique, the owner. Let me get you ladies set up.”
There’s a large round pink ottoman to sit on, two stuffed chairs, and a throne. Like an actual throne.
To our left, there’s a huge three-way mirror with a low pedestal in the middle. Ali looks at the pedestal nervously.
“You sit here,” Monique says to Ali, gesturing to the throne. “And the rest of you, sit where you like.”
Ali glances at us, then goes to sit on the gilded throne. After a minute she grins, looking like she's enjoying it. Lindsay and Sam take the two chairs, leaving Ellie and me to sit on the ottoman.
“All right,” Monique announces. Her English is perfect, though her accent is heavy. “What are we looking for, Miss Alianna?”
Ali turns a pretty shade of pink. “Okay, I already have the reception dress.” Her confidence growing as she talks. “My wedding is in a week, and I need a second dress for the ceremony. My ma wants something more traditional even though it’s a smaller, more casual wedding.” I almost laugh at Ali’s response. Charlie told me how his mom has been nagging Ali. I guess she finally gave in one full week before the deadline. She's cutting it close.
“Okay. Tell me what this ideal dress looks like.”
“Umm, I brought some pictures…” Ali says, digging through her purse. The entire place is quiet as we wait. “Here. I made an album of the dresses that I like from my bridal magazines.”
“Ah!” Monique says. “Let’s see.”
She takes the stack of photos from Ali and sifts through them. She's quiet for a long time, taking the measure of each picture fully. I feel awkward sitting here with them.
“Do you think you’ll be able to help us?” Sam asks, fidgety. “She waited until the last minute,” she adds, giving Ali a face which only makes Ali give her a face back.
“Of course,” Monique says. She looks at all of us, very serious. “I have dresses in the back that should be more than suitable.”
“Oh,” Sam says. “Well, alright!”
“Come, come. Let us get you started,” Monique says to Ali. “The fitting room is right here. Marcus will be in with some champagne shortly.” I don’t know who Marcus is, but I could use that champagne.
Ali beams, following Monique to an area behind a heavy pink brocade curtain and leaving us alone. As soon as Ali’s gone I catch Lindsay looking at me, then she rolls her eyes and leans over to whisper to Sam. What the fuck. My body temperature drops as I look at Ellie, who gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I don’t know much about wedding dress shopping,” I say, fumbling for something to break the ice.
“Oh, me neither. My sister came here for her wedding dress, though,” Ellie says easily. She runs her hand over her dark hair, which is up in a messy bun. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I agree.
A door opens on the far side of the room, and an older man comes in with a tray of glasses and a bottle of champagne. Oh, thank fuck. He doesn’t say much, just pours the champagne into flutes and passes them out.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the champagne gratefully.
I immediately take a sip. It’s sweet, and the bubbles tickle my tongue.
“Mmmm,” Ellie says. “Thank God for alcohol.”
“Yeah. I was surprised Ali asked me to come,” I say with a shrug to make my words seem casual.
“Ali was my roommate during our first couple of years of college,” Ellie says.
“Ahh. I was wondering how you knew each other,” I say, nodding.
Ellie smiles and sips her champagne. Before I'm forced to think of something else to say, Ali makes her appearance.
She’s stunning, wearing a silky number that has a strappy back, a simple front, and clings to her hips.
“Oooh, champagne!” she says, rushing to pick up her glass from where Marcus left the tray.
She takes a sip, then heads over to the mirror. Without even standing on the pedestal, she pans the dress.
“Bleh,” she says. She turns to walk toward us,
looking like a miniature model. “Monique is bringing some more dresses. This is too much like a bondage costume.”
I laugh. “If you say so. I think you look beautiful.”
“It’s beautiful,” Lindsay says. “Bondage or not.”
Ali sweeps over to the ottoman, perching beside me.
“I know all about these bitches,” she says, leaning closer to me. “But nothing about you, Grace. Tell me about yourself.”
“Uhh… what do you want to know?” The small bit of tension that left with Ali’s joke comes back full force.
“I don’t know. Where did you grow up?”
“Here. I’m an Atlanta baby.”
“And your family? Big, small?” She asks another easy question.
“Small family. It’s just myself and my younger sister, besides my mom.”
“Did you go to college?” Ellie asks.
“I did. I went to Brenau University for one year, then I finished my degree at Rhode Island School of Design. I’m a graphic designer now.”
“You went to RISD?” Lindsay says from across the room, disbelieving.
“Yes?” I say, uncertain. “I studied watercolor and oil painting along with graphic design.”
“I went to Savannah College of Art and Design,” she says. “I’m an interior designer.”
“Oh! That’s really cool,” I say. Small world.
“She’s also Charlie’s ex-girlfriend,” Sam says, crossing her arms.
Ali laughs. “No, she wanted to be Charlie’s girlfriend. There’s a huge difference.”
I bite my lip, but Monique pokes her head in to call Ali back. “Alianna, my dear. I have three more dresses for you to try on.”
“I’ll be back,” Ali says, winking to me. “Try not to get in any catfights.”
It seems that Ali knows about Lindsay’s lingering crush, and she's determined to stick up for me despite it. I nod to her, sipping my champagne, feeling like I’m on the outside. Not only that, but I feel guilty for lying to her about my relationship with her brother. This isn’t real.
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