"But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the idea."
i.
"You can't be serious."
Julia couldn't see her, through the phone, so Grace could have allowed herself a wince. But she steeled her resolve and her gaze, fixed as it was on the guileless Paco. "I asked if Dan was still single."
"I mean, yeah, as far as I know. I just can't believe that you're—"
"Bringing up a joke you made two years ago?"
"Asking me to set you up a date."
"I need to get out more."
"Is he screwing someone?"
Grace felt herself flush hotly, a full-faced blush. "Who? What?"
"Emmett."
Grace ground her teeth. This was exactly why she knew better than to come to Julia for advice, and yet—here she was, and not for the first time. "Julia, I don't know the details of Emmett's personal life. Furthermore, it's irrelevant."
"Well that's a load of mierda."
"Can you just—ask Dan if he's still interested?"
Dan O'Ryan. Pale Irish type, friendly and known. Grace listened to the silence of Julia's consideration—silence being, of course, an unusual state for Julia—and finally heard a little sigh. "Fine. You just want me to tell him you'd like to get dinner?"
It felt like jumping off of a cliff, but Grace was not much one for any kind of leap, so she was likely exaggerating the sensation. "Yes. I'm free tonight, if he is."
She stretched out on the sofa in shameful indolence after Julia hung up. Emmett had himself to thank for this development, she mused, and then discarded the notion disgustedly.
No, you're doing this yourself. For yourself.
She was bored, and lonely, and it was time to do something that challenged her. Work burdened her; it didn't challenge her.
The bright autumn felt interminably long. Francesca had not left yet, at least, not to Grace's knowledge. And that was a tangle of a problem. She wanted Francesca to leave, but the reason was rather unkind. She just—didn't like Francesca. It was with reason, but wasn't that always the excuse for a lack of charity?
Grace shut her eyes. It wasn't fair to wish Francesca away, if only for Emmett's sake. There must be something there, by now. Enough to hurt him, if it should end.
Julia's return text was affirmative. Dan would meet her in Santa Cruz at six-thirty. Julia promised she'd framed it as a meeting between old friends, though she'd hinted at something more.
Grace readied herself with all the resolve and conviction that accompanied armoring oneself for battle. The sheath dress and low heels might as well have clanked with chainmail.
Silly, silly. Grace twisted the curling iron again, tugging a little too hard. Her thoughts had circled back to the inevitable again. Francesca wasn't…malicious. But Francesca was the kind of girl who would enjoy having a heart to pinch between her fingers.
Who wouldn't? suggested an internal voice, cynical enough that it could only be Julia.
Grace arrived in Santa Cruz early, and wandered about before returning to the café where they'd agreed to meet. Dan was more broad-shouldered than she remembered.
"Dan?"
"Grace!" He shook her hand, folding it in both of his. "It's been ages."
It had been, in fact, since her college graduation. But for some reason, Julia had been the one to stay in touch with the O'Ryans, even though Grace had been the same class year as Dan, and a year above Maggie.
"I'm going to come clean." He had a straight-toothed grin. "Julia told me that you took over the business from your parents, and that you really needed a break."
It was the one thing Grace always hated admitting, which provided sufficient explanation for the wince in her smile. "Yes," she said, because she had chosen this. "I needed a break."
"How about Italian?"
There was a corner place, smoky in light rather than in air, with tucked-away tables and a long bar. It was crowded, but Dan seemed to know the owner. He lifted a hand and a women with a slick ponytail nodded and gestured.
They sat by the window. He pulled the chair out for her, and Grace was reminded that this was technically a date. It felt unromantic. Then again, that was at least half her fault. She was not romantic by nature and this felt like more of a tête-a-tête, just this side of business casual, than anything…charged with meaning.
Dan was an accountant. He didn't talk much about his work, though Grace wouldn't have minded—she did most of her own bookkeeping. They talked about movies and the warm weather and Julia and Ike.
"What's Ike's younger brother doing? Emmett? That kid was…something else."
Grace tilted her head. "He's an artist," she said, a little coldly. "He's very talented."
Dan nodded, and the conversation turned.
Grace bowed out before the twilight could fall too murkily, too suggestively, and said that she had an errand to run. They hugged, and he kissed her cheek.
She swiped absently at the spot with her hand when he was out of sight. She ought to text Julia and tell her that it had gone well, but it…hadn't. It hadn't gone badly either, though, so what was wrong with her? She felt numb.
No explanation could justify why she picked up a bottle of Mrs. Woodhouse's favorite wine from a shop and ended up at the Woodhouses' almost as late as Emmett had visited her.
They were playing chess together and Emmett was letting his mother win. It was a grace he accorded to few; he was generally a very sore loser. Watching them before they saw her—housekeeping had let her in—she was stiffened with a pang of not belonging, as though Dan O'Ryan's kiss on her cheek had marked her apart from an older life.
As if a kiss could do that!
"Grace!" Emmett exclaimed, and all was right again.
He walked her out, leaving his mother still contentedly examining the wine.
Grace meant to say, "I went on a date today," but the words didn't come. And Emmett looked strangely calm along the lines of his shoulders and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth—it must have been a good day.
"Your mom seemed pretty chipper," she said. There was a breeze blowing up along the driveway, and she breathed it in.
"Yeah. She found some of my old paintings, and was happy." Emmett laughed softly. "They were terrible, honestly." He wheeled on her suddenly, all demand and intensity. "Do you think I should go to law school?"
Grace stared at him. The idea had never entered her head. "No, I think you'd hate it. Why?"
"Oh, good. Ike's college roommate just made partner at his firm." He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming irritated. "Why does Julia tell me these things?"
A tightness formed in Grace's chest, at what else Julia might have told him, if they'd talked. But no, she reassured herself—no, Julia wanted Emmett with Grace, which was silly, but which would also prevent her from trying to cause trouble between them. Even as friends.
Only as friends.
"Julia says a lot of crap. She once said she thought I shouldn't have given up ballet."
Emmett frowned. "I don't remember you doing ballet."
Grace felt that warm rush of feeling that had been strangely absent all day. "You were a baby, silly. I only did it when I was four or five."
"Huh." He nibbled his lower lip. "Maybe…I should paint you as a ballerina. Giselle, instead of Grace."
Grace flushed. "Like I said, Julia says a lot of crap. It wouldn't suit me at all."
His eyes stayed on her for longer than she could understand. "I don't know about that."
Grace put her purse into her car and stood by the open door. "Thanks for letting me drop in, as always."
"Of course," Emmett said, hands in his pockets. The line of his shoulders was a little less easy than it had been moments before. "Hey, Grace?"
"Yes?"
"You know…well, you know how I asked you, the other night, if…well, you said you'd tell me, if anything important happened. In your life. Like, if you met someone. Would you—would you want me to do the same? I mean, if I…"
Grace's tongue was heavy in her mouth. She said, "Emmett, you never have to tell me anything you don't to."
"But I—would you want me to?"
No, she wouldn't. Wouldn't want to think—to know—of his hands and lips on Francesca, wouldn't want to hear that Emmett loved someone. It would change things too strangely, that was all.
She wouldn't, couldn't say why.
"The other side of the coin," Grace said, very calmly, "Is that you can always tell me things when you want to. I'll always listen."
It wasn't the answer to his question, but he nodded all the same. "Alright. Good night, Grace."
She didn't breathe again until she was driving away.
ii.
All things considered, Grace had taken a certain ill-conceived evening visit well in stride.
Then again, Grace was known for taking things in stride.
Emmett liked to fold up past concerns and lock them away somewhere soon forgotten. Armed, therefore, with the knowledge that Grace would never lie, he decided to never worry again that she liked or loved Jake Fairfax.
She'd tell him if she did.
She didn't.
He went to dinner at Noel and Ashley's with a light heart, a day or so later, on Francesca's invitation.
Jake was there.
A slap in the face, really, though Arthur was technically more irritating.
"I'm sorry I didn't warn you," Francesca said in his ear. "I needed your…support."
"Thank you for choosing me," he retorted flippantly, half under his breath. "At least there's no piano here."
Francesca laughed. "Speaking of your Lindsey Dixon theory, I saw her face on a tabloid this morning. Think it must kill poor Jake to even go to the grocery store?"
"Probably." Emmett cast a glance at Jake, who was talking stiffly with Noel. God, did the kid ever relax?
He's not a kid any more than you are, Grace said in his head. Actually, he's far superior to you in maturity.
He flicked the voice away.
"Maybe the piano's made of linden wood," Francesca suggested. Her eyes glinted with laughter. "That would be appropriate." She turned, nodding in Jake's direction. "I'm going to go over there and ask him all about it, emphasis included."
"Don't do it!" Emmett set a hand on her elbow, a little frantic. "Don't—he's definitely not the kind to take a joke."
"I don't know." Francesca pressed her lips together speculatively. "I'd like to see him blush."
Emmett moved his hand from her elbow to her waist, very casually. "I think you like to make everyone blush."
She pushed him gently away, fingernails scraping lightly against his wrist, making his skin tingle. "Blush all you like," she said. "This will only take a minute."
He watched her cross the room and didn't follow. He didn't want to be obvious, even if by nature he was always the most obvious person in any given room. Francesca talked to Jake with her back turned, which was unhelpful, and she was blocking Emmett's view of Jake's face, more unhelpfully still.
They talked too long for mere jibes. Emmett turned away. The room was strangely uneven, all of a moment. He wished that Grace was there. She was good to talk to in the in-between moments.
He imagined her steady eyes, daring him to pretend that he had phrased that right.
But it wasn't an insult. It wasn't.
He had no way of telling if Francesca had been successful in making Jake blush—she avoided the subject later in the evening, and Jake was as cold and taciturn as ever. Emmett wondered why Noel and Ashley had even invited the Bates clan over at all. They weren't much for company.
He feigned a headache and bowed out early, an hour after dinner or so. He was tired. Yes, even Emmett got tired.
Francesca ran after him when he headed for his car. "Hey, you!"
He slowed his step so she could catch up to him, spin around in front of him, and tilt her chin a little daringly.
"Yes?"
In the fading light, she was still golden.. "We're going to San Fran tomorrow. Come with us."
"Who's 'us'?"
"Me and Ashley. It's my last weekend, you know. We're going to get a hotel and have a grand old time. You in?"
He nodded. Emmett never (well, rarely) said no to adventures. And his heartrate hiked up a little, prompted by the idea that this might be more than just a weekend excursion. Ashley certainly approved of…whatever this was…and it would be the perfect opportunity for—
"Yeah," he said. "I'm in." He should love her by now, because a few weeks must be enough for the shallows of human affection as he knew it
But Francesca arrived early the next morning, and something had changed in her face. Emmett let her in the front door and she paced the hallway. "Is your mom around?"
"She's still sleeping."
She shifted from one heeled boot to the other. "I'll be quiet then."
Emmett, when he had to be, could be ten steps ahead. At the moment, he had maybe two or three on her. "No San Francisco, huh?"
Francesca stared at the ground. He'd never seen her like this. She lifted her chin at last, though the movement was bereft of daring, and took a step towards him. "No. Sorry." Then she took one of his hands in both of hers. They were close—close enough that Emmett could have kissed her, if he'd wanted to. He—
—did not know if he wanted to.
"I booked my flight home for later today," Francesca said. "Turns out my mom couldn't wait."
"Is she alright?"
She looked at him as if for the first time. "I don't think she ever really is."
Emmett was silent because he understood.
"I'm sorry about—well, a trip would have been fun. But I think…Emmett, there's something I want to tell you. I've been playing games this whole time. You can tell, can't you?"
Emmett was a master of games. Had to be. There wasn't any other explanation for his purpose. "Yes."
Francesca exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. "Cool. I still…I shouldn't saying this, I'm going to screw up everything—"
He lifted a hand to her cheek, grazing his thumb just below her temple. Waited to feel something. "You won't."
Was this the moment to kiss her? To seal with lips what a hundred looks had almost said, in the past few weeks?
"Francesca?"
Ashley was walking through the front door.
Francesca leapt back. Her lips were open, full of the unspoken words that Emmett felt fairly sure he could guess for himself.
Ashley came in. "Hey, Emmett. I'm so sorry about—well, she'll be back, won't you, hon?" She glanced at her watch. Even in adversity, Ashley was cheerful. "Sorry to rush, but Francesca, we should be going—just in case there's traffic."
Emmett raised a hand, a silent goodbye. He was tongue-tied, or something even quieter than that. A total stillness of heart and head.
Francesca shut her eyes. If he had had a reason to believe it, he would have thought she looked ashamed. But that made no sense at all, so Emmett folded the look up and locked it away to be forgotten.