Grace slumped down in the awkward auditorium chair, waiting impatiently for Zoe to appear on stage. Marcus and Jessie had decided to direct the show "Once Upon a Mattress" and Zoe was trying out for Princess Winifred, the lead role. It took a lot of Marcus's tips and Grace's nagging to get her to even consider trying out, but Grace had an odd feeling she'd be fine once she stepped in front of the curtain. Zoe was a natural on stage.
Scanning the empty room, Grace looked back to the middle section of the theater where Marcus, Jessie, and the infamous Ted sat, all three looking more serious than Grace thought should be allowed. She had tried to sit next to them, but Ted scowled at her, Jessie's face flushed, and Marcus suggested that she sit up front and let the professionals work. Grace was still furious. How professional did you have to be to watch people? Besides, if Jessie could handle it, she was definitely more than qualified.
About fifteen minutes later, Zoe was called on stage, asked for her name, age, and song, and then the music began. Grace couldn't help but grin as Zoe erupted into song. She had a strong, sturdy voice filled with passion and vigor. She could even give Jessie a run for her talent. Grace wanted to clap as she ended, but knew that would make Zoe even more embarrassed than she already was.
Still serious as ever, Ted told Zoe that she'd get a phone call over the weekend, and would then know what part she got. Figuring there was not much more she could do but give Zoe a ride home, Grace stood up and headed towards Marcus. She crept quietly and waited for the next song to end before speaking to him.
"Marc?" she said, catching his attention. He didn't turn to her. "Listen, I think I'm going to go…"
"Grace, I'm a little busy," Marcus said quickly. "I'll see you at home."
Grace was a bit stung by Marcus's harsh words, but shrugged them off. She knew how touchy he got whenever his work was involved. Besides, wasn't she the same way when she came to her writing? But still, she couldn't help but feel that he could have at least been a bit friendlier about his word choice.
Not daring to protest, Grace turned on her heel and left. She found Zoe slouching in the hallway, her long silhouette trembling slightly.
"Hey, Zo, are you all right?" Grace asked, concerned.
Zoe nodded, inhaling deeply. "I'm just still shaky about my performance. I won't fully recover until I know how I did. I bet I don't make it."
Grace slapped her upside the head. "Shut up, you just want me to tell you how good you did," she remarked. Her light tone caused Zoe to ease up a bit.
"Well," Zoe teased, "It wouldn't hurt."
Grace rolled her eyes and fished her keys out of her purse. "Well, stop trembling or I can't let you drive," she remarked, tossing her keys at Zoe.
"Really?" Zoe asked, wide-eyed. "Oh thank you so much!" she exclaimed. "Can I stop to get some ice cream? It will only take a second."
Grace nodded, not thinking much of Zoe's request. Zoe did have a huge appetite after all. "Let's just get going," she said.
The two hopped into Grace's jeep, and Zoe took off down the street. Grace slipped in one of her old Goo Goo Dolls CDs and was pleased when Zoe didn't protest. She even sang along to a few of the tracks. Fifteen minutes later they had reached "SnoCaps", an independently owned ice cream parlor that was known for their large portions.
"Do you want anything?" Zoe asked jumping out of the car.
Grace shook her head and turned up the volume. Her favorite song "Sympathy" was on. She tapped her fingers on her leg to the beat, not caring how loud she sang. As the song ended, she began to wonder what was taking Zoe so long. It was nearly six o' clock and she had to get home to finish this week's column. It was due tomorrow by two. Peering through the glass windows, Grace caught a glimpse of Zoe leaning casually against the glass wall, talking to a tall teenager with spiky black hair and a nose ring. Grace also thought she saw a tattoo on his right arm. She rolled her eyes. So that was why Zoe insisted on stopping here; a boy was involved.
She watched for five more minutes as Zoe flirted, laughing much more than usual, and flipping hair every which way. She scowled. Even with her brown locks, she had inherited Jessie's hair flipping art style. She wondered if it could be learned, than thought better of it. She wasn't the hair flipping type anyway.
Finally Zoe came back out, two chocolate milkshakes in her hand. Grace was going to point out the fact that they could have gotten milkshakes cheaper and faster at McDonalds, but thought better of it. This visit had obviously perked Zoe up.
"Sorry I took so long," Zoe said, placing the cups in the cup holders. "Long line."
"Yeah, right," Grace nodded, noting the whole one other car in the parking lot. She turned to Zoe. "So what's his name?"
"Oh, him?" Zoe asked, trying to play innocent. Grace laughed. Like Jessie, Zoe was a terrible liar. "That's Chris. Just some guy from school. No one special. I don't even like him."
Grace shook her head. "You completely like him and you don't think mom would approve," she said.
Zoe pulled out of the parking lot. "Maybe. But come on Grace, what would you know about that."
"Hmm…" Grace began. "Oh, you know what, you're right; falling for my thirty year old teacher, now that was highly commendable."
Zoe burst out in a fit of giggles. "Oh…right. I almost forgot. It almost makes me see some hope for dating Chris."
"Gee, thanks," Grace muttered sarcastically. "But, honestly, mom's so distracted with Maddie, and Rick's never home. I'm sure they won't mind at all."
Zoe nodded. "That's true. I guess I'm just nervous about the prospect of dating." Her voice lowered. "Would you believe I never even kissed a guy before? Not even once! I'm too shy. I hate it."
Now Grace could relate to Zoe immensely. "Zo, trust me. It's overrated. I know, you're thinking that I'm only saying that because I'm practically married and kissing guys doesn't scare me anymore, but honestly it's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine."
Zoe grew silent. "I guess," she added. "Look, just don't mention anything to Jessie. She'll tease me forever."
Grace rolled her eyes. "Promise," she said. She eyed the other milkshake. "Who's that for?"
"Mom," Zoe said. "Chris wants to go out…tonight. I figured I'd bribe her a bit."
Grace laughed. "Good luck with that. Out of the blue kindness is the only thing mom will always remain suspicious of."
Zoe grinned. "Yeah, but it can't hurt."
Grace just shook her head, wondering what happened to the straggly haired girl with the big mouth and annoying tantrums.
XxX
An hour later, Grace arrived at August's house (she couldn't bring herself to call it "home") and hit the message button on her phone. She listened as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea.
The first message was from Lily, telling her to stop by anytime she needed to eat, since she knew Grace couldn't cook very well. She went on about chats she had with neighbors and some other useless gossip. Grace couldn't help but laugh at her mother, wondering if she now thought Grace belonged to the old ladies club, where the married wives chatted about flowers and shopping and groceries. She shuddered. Hopefully her mother would get the point.
The next message was from Celia in her normal high pitched, cheery voice, thanking her again for taking the house, leaving her number with Grace, again, and talking about all the fun she was having in Boston. Grace found it odd that she never mentioned August, but she chased the thought away. August was none of her business anymore, she reminded herself.
The last message was from Marcus, claiming he had to stay late at 'the Iliad' to help Jessie and Ted go over some of the performances for that day. He told her not to wait up for him and to have dinner without him. He also mentioned meeting up with Johnny, an old theater friend of his at a local bar. Grace rolled her eyes. Great, she was engaged and already alone.
She deleted all the messages and crept into the bedroom. She pulled off her baggy sweater and loose jeans and disappeared into the closet. She slid on a thin, tight tan knit sweater with loose sleeves, and stepped into a pair of form-fitting jeans. She threw on a pair of black leather boots and disappeared into the living room. Grabbing her faded brown leather jacket and white knitted scarf, she grabbed her laptop left the house, making her way to her jeep. She couldn't work at this house. It was too weird.
Pressing on the gas pedal, Grace drove to Borders and set up her office on one of their spacious tables in the lounge. She ordered a double espresso and a piece of chocolate chip cheesecake and sat down and began writing. She was writing a column about the lack of good stylistics and writing techniques in recent books. She used many references from the popular "the Da Vinci Code", a good story and easy read, but in honesty, not an impressive piece of literature. She also added in comments about the uprising of "Chicklets" a nickname she and Sharon had come up with to describe the ever-so-popular "Sex and the City" knock-off books. She compared writing to music, stating that in music there are different genres, each with its own styles, but in general all forms of music have a key element, passion and talent. Yet recent books, she noticed, were lacking in passion and talent, and just merely about marketing and profit. The concept disgusted her.
"Imposter Literature?" a voice questioned.
Grace hit the control and "s" keys, then slammed her laptop shut. She knew who was speaking to her. "I'm working on the name," she defended.
"I never said I didn't like it," the man said, sliding into the seat next to her.
"What are you still doing here?" Grace asked. "I thought you were going with Celia."
August grinned wearily. "I will be in three months. I visit on weekends for now. But, I still have to make a living. I'm teaching a college lit class here and I also was hired to play piano and supervise a small theater production. My friend Ted asked me to help out."
Ted was not a common name, Grace was aware. She didn't want to ask, because she already knew the answer, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out. "The production of 'Once Upon a Mattress'?" she questioned. "At 'The Iliad'? Director Ted Moss and Jessie…"
"Yes, yes," August nodded. "Your Jessie."
Grace felt odd. She had never once in her life thought of Jessie as hers. "I didn't know you played piano," was all she could utter.
"Full of surprises, I guess," August said. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late; especially coffee as strong as that."
Grace shrugged. "I need to keep myself awake somehow."
"I read your article," August said at last.
"What?" Grace asked, feeling violated. Her writing was personal! Well, at least until it was pasted, printed, and distributed to about twenty million people worldwide. But that wasn't the point!
"Your article," August said plainly. "No need to be offended. I just glimpsed over your shoulder for a second, and I couldn't help myself. You were so engrossed in it that you didn't even notice."
"You shouldn't do that," Grace warned. Still she was curious…. "What did you think?"
"Well, I…"
"No, wait, stop," Grace commanded. "I don't want to know what you think. Your standards are impossible to live up to."
"Is that so?" August asked, amused.
"Yes!" Grace blurted out. "I always feel like I'm going to disappoint you or something."
"Grace," August said, a bit too seriously. "You could never disappoint me."
Grace looked away from him, unsure of what to say. "Celia called," she began. "She said she was having a great time."
"She always does," August said dully. He paused. "Where's the actor."
"Working," she said. "At the theater. Jessie's theater. They asked him to help," she said proudly.
"So soon?" August asked. "He only just got here last week."
"Well, he takes his work seriously," Grace said, hoping that answer would satisfy him.
It didn't. "He should take you seriously," August said sincerely.
Grace met his stare. "You should take Celia seriously," she challenged.
August stared at her for the longest time before breaking into a wide grin. "Touché," he remarked.
Grace took a sip of her espresso, ignoring August's laughter. She didn't know quite how to react to him anymore.
"So why aren't you writing at home?" August asked.
"Oh, at your house?" Grace asked. "Well, I…I don't know. I needed to eat, I guess."
"So you chose cheesecake," August noted. "Very grand choice, Grace, really I'm surprised."
Grace's mood lightened and she allowed herself to laugh. "Well, I'm not the greatest cook."
August shook his head. "Pity. Well, I'll make you a deal. I'll make you my famous chicken franchese and you promise not to tell Celia I cook."
"August…" Grace studied him. She didn't want him to think anything was going to happen between them. She wasn't seventeen anymore. But, she was hungry. And he looked sincere enough…. "Okay," she agreed, clutching her laptop. She wasn't in the mood to return to an empty house anyway. Plus, Marcus had late dinner plans, and knowing him, he'd be out until five in the morning. "But August," she began.
"Yeah?" August asked, following her outside.
"This chicken better be good," she teased. "I'm starving."
He laughed good naturedly and disappeared into his own Ford Taurus.
Grace quickly jumped into her Jeep, too nervous to think straight. She could only barely focus on starting the engine and making her way to August's…her…house.
She pulled into the long driveway and watched as August parked in front of the house. She quickly opened the door, rushing inside before August had even completed the walk up the driveway. She rushed around the living room, picking up small piles of her clothes and shoving them into the bedroom. She tried to organize a cluster of books she had dropped around the kitchen, but wound up just scattering them even more across the kitchen table. She had no time to worry about any other seemingly invisible mess because just then August creaked open the kitchen door.
"Trying to get rid of me?" he joked.
"No," Grace said smiling. "The house was just still a little messy from moving in and…"
August shook his head. "It won't bother me at all." He headed over to the freezer and pulled out a package of chicken.
"Do you want me to help?" Grace asked.
"No, I've got it under control," August said, gathering various ingredients. Grace sat down at the kitchen table, skimming the different titles. She found a worn copy of "As You Like It" by Shakespeare and began thinking back to the play August had directed. She had won the part of Rosaline and Jessie, the part of Phoebe. That was the time that first brought her close to August.
Snapping out of her daydream, she watched as August loaded a small tray of chicken into the oven. She grinned as he sat down across from her.
"So do you normally serve your husband books for dinner?" August joked.
"He's not my husband," Grace insisted, then realizing the reality of what she had just said, added, "yet."
August smiled knowingly, peeling his eyes off of her and scanning the books on the table. "Wide variety," he noted.
"Yeah…I need to get another bookshelf…or two," she added laughing. She stood up, grabbing a heap of books. "I should clear these off so we can eat."
August got to his feet and grabbed the remaining pile. "I'll help." It was more of a command than an offer and Grace knew better than to refuse.
The two headed to the bedroom, where Grace began setting down the books on a small round table by the window. August followed her lead. One book stumbled to the carpet, and both leaned over to get it. Grace's hand brushed him as she clasped the book, his strong hand clutching the other end. Their eyes met and they immediately both looked down, suddenly noticing the faded cover with gold writing. "Chekhov" was all that was written on it. She let go off it as August opened the front cover and read the inscription quietly. "For the girl with the loneliest eyes, love always…." His voice trailed off as his eyes met Grace's.
"You kept this?" he asked.
Grace nodded. "Of course I did!" she exclaimed too quickly. "Well, I mean, it's a great piece of literature."
August nodded. "That it is," he said quietly. He turned for the door. "Look, Grace, I should go."
"What?"
"Yeah, I mean, the chicken will be done in ten more minutes, just pull it out and then…"
"No!" Grace remarked. "August, stop!"
"I'm trying to," he hissed, still not facing her.
Grace suddenly felt an overwhelming emotion of compassion for the man. "Why are you doing this?" she breathed, her voice barely under a whisper. She walked around August to face him.
"I'm not doing anything," he insisted.
"Exactly," Grace whispered peering up at him.
August opened his mouth to utter something, but he was saved the trouble by the oven timer buzzing. "The chicken's done," he insisted.
Grace nodded and followed him out into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and pulled out the tray of chicken. Immediately Grace could smell the sweetness of the sauce coating the chicken.
"Smell's good," Grace said encouragingly.
August remained silent and grabbed two plates from the drain board, placing some food on each.
"Oh, guess what," Grace began.
"What?" August asked with sincere interest.
"There's this documentary on tonight. I was planning on watching it. It's about Rashomon, you know, one of those behind the scenes things. It's on in a few minutes. Do you want to watch it? We can eat in the living room."
August made no sound or gesture at first, and Grace was certain he was going to decline. Figuring she had nothing to lose, she added, jokingly, "I think it's really important for you to see it," she replied. "For educational purposes, of course."
He laughed thinking of the words he had spoken to her when they went to see Rashomon her junior year. I mean, this is a groundbreaking film, I consider it a key part of your education, and I don't intend for you to miss it. And you're going to love it. He smiled fondly remembering that night, their last night of happiness before all hell broke loose at school.
"Okay," he relented. He smiled. "So now you're educating me?" he joked.
Grace nodded confidently. "I think you could learn a lot from me," she teased.
August smiled sincerely, following her out of the kitchen. "Somehow I don't doubt that," he whispered, but Grace, already turning the television on, didn't seem to hear him.
They sat down next to each other on the small sofa, Grace no longer distracted by its awful pink color. They watched the hour long documentary in relative silence, only peeling their eyes from the television set to eat their late dinner. They were both too nervous to speak a single word to each other or even meet the other's eye. When the documentary ended, they both sat silently, a little too stiffly, neither moving.
"So, what did you think?" Grace asked, still not daring to look at him. She was engaged, she kept reminding herself. They really couldn't do this now.
"It was good," August said honestly. "I love going into the author's mind, finding out why he wrote what in the script."
Grace nodded. "Yeah, me too." She stood up and switched the tv off. She grabbed August's plate without another word and headed into the kitchen, soaking them under hot water. Grabbing a sponge she began scrubbing the plates in silence, fully aware of August's presence behind her. She finished the dishes, and turned around to face August, her hands still wet.
"I…I don't have a towel," she said poignantly, as if that somehow explained the entire night's events.
August nodded. "You don't need one," he insisted, entwining his hands with hers.
"But, your hands will get wet," she protested, though she made no attempt to pull away as he stepped closer.
"They'll dry," he assured her as his mouth closed in around hers. Grace forgot everything in her life except for him. She unleashed all of the emotion and tension and awkwardness they had fought and tried to deny all night, not caring about anything except for kissing him, and how amazing it made her feel. Kissing Marcus never made her feel amazing. Marcus. Her fiancé. Her eyes widened suddenly.
"August, stop," she insisted, pulling away. "We can't…"
August sighed and backed up. "I know, I know," he said. "It's just…it's not fair Grace. I lost you once, and now I have to let you go again."
Grace's heart fell to the floor at this confession. "I know, but…it's not easy for me either. Not at all. There's something between us, I know that, you know that. And it's never going to die, never. But, that doesn't mean we should risk losing the stability our lives have now, just for something as irrational as…"
"Love?" August finished, looking agitated.
Grace opened and closed her mouth several times. "I…I was going to say…an affair. Like…like in 'Madame Bovary' or…"
"Grace when are you going to wake up and realize this isn't some novel?" August snapped. "And it in no way compares to 'Madame Bovary'. Madame Bovary had affairs to try and find love. We already have that. We don't need to look anymore. What we have is real Grace. It's real. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to lose that."
"I don't either," she admitted. "But…I…"
"Be strong Grace," he encouraged her. "You're the strongest woman I know."
"I'm trying to," she insisted. "But it's hard to be strong knowing I can't have you…knowing Celia…"
"I don't give a damn about Celia," August said rapidly. "I thought you'd have realized that by now. I don't love her, I never had, never even pretended to. She knows that. She doesn't love me either."
"So you two never….had sex?" Grace asked.
August shook his head in disbelief. "Grace how can you be so wise and naïve at the same time?" he asked. "Of course we have. Sex isn't always about love, Grace. You ought to know that."
Grace nodded. "I do, but I just thought that with you…." She sighed as she realized that however different August may be from other men, underneath, inside, he still was one. A man.
"Grace, I need to ask you something," August said calmly, walking towards her. Grace nodded, staring at his hair. No one should have hair that looked that good, she thought.
"What?" she breathed.
"Do you love him?" he asked. "Marcus?"
Grace froze. "Marcus," she repeated.
"Yes," August said, making her feel inferior once more. "Do you love Marcus?"
"I…I'm engaged," she defended. "Only people in love get engaged."
August cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, only people who are in love should get engaged," she insisted. Her head was spinning too quickly. She needed to sit down. She couldn't see straight.
"Should you be engaged?" he asked.
"Yes," Grace said too quickly.
"To Marcus?" August questioned, his eyes glowing a fiercely emerald color that Grace thought otherworldly.
"I…I need to sit down," Grace said, feeling weak.
"No you don't," August said. "You're too strong for that."
"Maybe I'm not," she insisted. "Maybe I'm not as strong as you think. Maybe I'm not anything you think." She kept rambling, not truly meaning a word of it. August saw through her lies.
"You still have lonely eyes Grace. Does Marcus think you have lonely eyes?"
"No," she admitted. She couldn't help herself. She was a slave to his words. She always had been. He always knew her so well, too well. She hated and loved that at the same time. Now all she could do was press her lips to his and hope her life would figure itself out. But, still, she pulled away once more.
"I have a whole life in New York, you know," she insisted. "I have a job, and friends, and god, Marcus."
August's eyes studied her face carefully. Grace stood deathly still afraid to move or talk, not trusting her intentions. Outside she could hear the faint pattering of raindrops.
"Then why did you run away?" he asked at last.
"Run away?" Grace questioned. "I didn't run away. I came here to…to plan my wedding." Her voice had faltered and failed her and she knew at once he knew her secret. She hung her head in shame. "Maybe I ran a little bit…but with all intentions of coming back."
"You're always running Gracie," he said. "What are you searching for?"
"Nothing, I…" Her voice steadied and she no longer let her outer shell decide what she would and would not say. "Everything," she said strongly. "I'm looking for me. I'm looking for love and acceptance and just, happiness. And no matter where I go, I'm afraid that I'll never find…"
"Shh," August cooed. "Can you think of one truly happy moment in your life?"
"Yes," Grace said automatically.
"When?" August asked.
"The night I read 'On Love' by Chekhov," she said. "It was so sad, and yet oddly inspiring and hopeful. Like us. Like our relationship. It gave me hope." Grace met August's eyes hesitantly. She wasn't holding anything back anymore.
"And have you still been holding onto that hope, or did you lose it?" August asked solemnly.
Grace chose her words carefully. "You can never lose something that's dear to your heart."
"Don't speak in riddles Grace," August warned.
"Why?" Grace asked. "That's what we've always done. The fun in it was trying to figure out what the other really meant."
"I don't want to figure it out," August insisted. "I want to know. Grace I want to know what you want."
Grace fought inwardly. She wanted to be faithful to Marcus, but August wasn't making any of this easy. But she didn't want to lie. She never could lie to August, not really. She hesitated as she searched for words, and in this second of hesitation, he knew.
"You never gave up on us did you?" August asked quietly.
Lightening struck in Grace's eyes as she came to terms with this realization. "No," she admitted slowly. "I…I guess I never did."
Grace jumped as she heard the front door being unlocked. She shot August a pleading look and he hurried into the living room and, Grace hoped, to the front door.
"Hey babe," Marcus said, walking inside. He stood by the door and grinned. "Guess what!"
Grace shrugged, her eyes still peeled to August in the living room. He stood frozen by the front door, knowing that if he attempted to open the door, the sound would surely alert Marcus.
"Marci called," he beamed.
Grace stared at him for a full minute before remembering who Marci was. "Oh, your agent."
"Yes," Marcus said excitedly. "And, you're going to love this. She found a job for me starting in two weeks. It's a year long tour in Europe as Danny in Grease! Isn't that amazing? Just think Europe."
Grace looked at him in a new light. "What about the wedding?"
Marcus looked confused for a moment and Grace suddenly realized that he hadn't considered the wedding as a problem with this job.
"You forgot?" Grace asked, angrily.
"No!" Marcus insisted. "It's just…Grace…this is my dream. Can't we postpone it? Or, we can get married in Europe in one of those churches that always fascinated you."
"Cathedrals?" Grace asked.
"Yeah, one of those," Marcus said.
Grace shook her head. "But what about my work? My ambitions? My writing?"
Marcus shrugged. "They have pens in Europe," he joked.
"Marcus, that isn't funny," Grace said seriously. "Not at all."
"Look, Grace," Marcus began slowly. "Maybe we rushed into this whole marriage thing a little too quickly. Maybe…maybe we should have a longer engagement. That way you can do your thing and I can do my thing."
Grace nodded, taking this in. "Okay."
Marcus stared at her for a moment, as if expecting her to protest. "So this is it?"
Grace froze. "I don't know," she admitted. "Marcus…" she began. "Do you…do you love me?"
Marcus shot Grace a stunned look. "Of course I do."
"I know but…do you…do you really love me?" she asked. Marcus still looked confused as to what she wanted him to say. "Kathleen…your ex wife…you loved her. I mean you really loved her," Grace said. "Is that the way you love me?"
"I…." Marcus couldn't bring the words to his mouth.
Grace nodded bitterly. "You don't," she concluded.
"Grace, I…"
"No, Marcus, please don't," Grace insisted. "I'm not hurt. I can't pretend I love you that way either. I do care for you Marcus, but, not in the same way you loved Kathleen. And that's what I want. That's what I need. I need real, overwhelming, breathtaking love. And I…I don't even know if that exists, but…."
"It does," Marcus assured her, and Grace could see all of the pain he felt when he lost his first wife. Her death had torn apart his world, but he never spoke of her, and now Grace could plainly see all of that long built up pain painted across his face.
Grace forced a smile. "You need to get over Kathleen before you can move on," she told him. He nodded in agreement and Grace sighed. "I don't know who we thought we were fooling with this marriage."
"Grace," Marcus began, "Don't start blaming people. It's no one's fault. I think we just both need some time and space, alone."
Grace nodded.
"How about this?" Marcus began. "After my year's up in Europe, I'll come back, and we'll see if there's anything left…of us."
"Okay," Grace agreed as he kissed her gently on the forehead. "I do love you Grace."
"I know," she said, sliding the ring off her finger and handing it to him. "Don't say no," she whispered, "Just take it."
Marcus pulled away, the ring in his hand and nodded.
"Good luck," she added.
Marcus smiled wearily. "I'd say same to you, but you don't need luck Grace. You never did."
Grace managed a weak smile although her body was trembling. She watched as Marcus left, shutting the door softly behind him. She didn't allow any tears to fall until she was certain she saw his headlights pull out of the driveway. She didn't cry, but silent tears did swarm her face.
"Grace," a soft voice called.
Grace gasped. She had forgotten August was in the other room. She turned, still trembling, and met his voice. "Y…yes," she said shakily.
August didn't speak another word. He didn't need to. He just embraced her tightly, pulling her down onto the couch. He let her cry and scream. He let her vent and ramble on. He let her hurt.
"Do you want to know why I was crying?" Grace asked at last, a good twenty minutes later. She lay across the couch, her head in his lap, a blanket thrown across her stretched out body.
"Why?" August asked, stroking her auburn locks, knowing it was healthy to get her to talk about her emotions. She normally didn't like to.
"You'll think there's something wrong with me if I tell you," Grace insisted.
August suppressed the urge to laugh. "Never," he assured her.
"All right," Grace said. She tore her eyes from staring at the spinning ceiling fan to stare into his deep green eyes. "I was crying because I thought something was wrong with me…"
"Grace," August cooed. "Nothing's wrong with you. A lot of marriages…"
"No, no," Grace interrupted. "I wish that was why I was crying; because of the breakup between Marcus and I. But it wasn't. And that's why I was crying." She paused and August knew better than to interrupt. "I felt like something was wrong with me, like I should be crying, and if I didn't I wasn't human or feeling or sensitive. But, I didn't feel much of anything. I really didn't. And that's why I was crying, I think; to make sure I still knew how to." She examined the meaning of her own words for another moment. "Does that make any sense?" she asked, studying August's expression.
"My dear," he began. "I think that is the most sense you've made all day."
Grace smiled gratefully and he kissed her nose. "Now go to sleep," he insisted.
"No," Grace fought. "Not like this. It's not fair to you."
August smiled. "Trust me, I'm fine."
Grace shook her head and slowly rose to her feet. She still felt weak, but at least she wasn't trembling. She took August's hand and led him into the bedroom and they sat down on the bed.
"Just stay overnight with me?" Grace asked, shooting him a pleading look. She knew he wouldn't resist if she begged.
"Okay," August agreed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll stay."
Grace smiled and nestled herself under the covers. She waited for August to get in on the other side before turning off the bedside lamp. Grace then turned over to face August.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," he smiled.
She clasped her hand between his and stared into his eyes for what felt like eternity. At last she grinned, and began to feel the lull of sleep calling for her. Burying her head deeper into the pillow, she asked, "Do my eyes still look lonely?"
August just smiled, not uttering a word. Grace drifted off to sleep, the last picture present in her mind being the warmth of August's face as he watched over her.
XxX
Next chapter: August faces an odd and awkward confrontation with Grace's parents and Jessie tells Grace some shocking news. Also, Zoe faces problems at home and asks Grace for a rather large favor.