“Great. My dad will never retire. He and my brother are partners at the same firm. Andrew and Monica have two kids and a big house in Beverly Hills. Regina is the same, except her face is tighter.”
Grace laughed but then her smile faded. “I’m sad to hear about your mom. I really liked her. I felt like we were kindred spirits.”
I thought back to the days before I lost my mom. She asked me what happened with Grace, and I told her it just didn’t work out. I was confused as to why my mother was bringing Grace’s name up after so many years had passed. She had no idea Elizabeth and I were having marital problems, but it was like she wanted me to know she still thought of Grace. I think she must have felt that they were kindred spirits, too. Elizabeth was never close to Mom, even after knowing her for a decade. One visit, and Grace was in my mom’s heart forever.
“Yes. She went peacefully. My dad actually came to see her before she died. It was heartbreaking because, after all they went through . . . she still loved him. That’s why she never remarried. I think, once everything was stripped away and he saw her near the end of her life, he loved her, too. At least, that’s what he said to her. If he didn’t mean it, at least my mom died believing it. I came to respect him more after that.”
“I can understand that.” She said it as if she spoke from experience.
I took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about something happier.”
“I followed your career for a while and saw that you won the Pulitzer. What an amazing accomplishment, Matt. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. It was unexpected and hard to appreciate because, I think, at the time, I was in a really dark place.”
“That was before your mother got sick though, right?”
“Yeah. She got to see me accept the award. She and my dad were really proud.”
Grace was so interested, so compassionate. I thought I had made up all those things about her in my mind. How fitting her name was. How real, beautiful, and genuine she was in the flesh. All those times I had stared at her photos and wished I could hold her, touch her, or just see her in person, in color, here she was, just like I remembered.
The slices of pie sat untouched between us. I stabbed a piece and held the fork up to Grace’s lips. “Pie makes everything better.”
She took the bite, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. I licked my lips, thinking about how she tasted—what it had been like to kiss her.
“That’s soooo good.”
“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about the past, but I’m dying to know what you did after we graduated. How was the orchestra?”
“It was wonderful, actually. We traveled for a couple of years. Tatiana did, too. When we came home to New York, Dan got his old job back at NYU, and I got my Masters in music theory in an online program. I taught at the college level for a few years, and now I direct the orchestra and band at the high school.”
“That’s fantastic, Grace. How is Tatiana?”
“She’s good. Still single and feisty. She’s with the New York Philharmonic so she travels a lot. She’s a very dedicated musician.”
“What happened to Brandon?”
She chuckled. “He was just one of many for Tati.”
“I should have guessed. So you never wanted to go down the same path as Tati? I might be biased, but I always thought you were a stronger musician than her.”
“I did, but . . .” She started fidgeting. “I, uh, never had the discipline she had. She was always better.”
“I don’t think so at all.”
“To the trained ear, Tatiana has more talent.” She smiled. “Last bite?” She held a fork full of peanut butter pie up to my mouth.
I grabbed her wrist, leaned in, and took the bite. The instant intimacy between us felt too familiar.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to get back. This has been so nice. It was good to see you again, looking so well and healthy,” she said.
“Let me walk you home.”
“It’s not necessary.” She moved to the edge of the booth to stand.
“It’s late, and I would feel better if you’d let me walk you.”
She hesitated. “Okay. You can walk me to my street.”
On the walk over, she twisted her hair up into a bun, exposing her tattoo. Green-eyed Lovebird. I couldn’t resist reaching out and running my fingers across the back of her neck. So it really happened. She flinched. “What are you doing?”
“I just wanted to touch it, to see if it was still there.”
She laughed. “Tattoos are pretty permanent.”
“I just wondered if you had it lasered off in anger.”
“I was more heartbroken than angry.”
Ouch.
I took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.”
“I know. I am too. You still have yours, I assume?”
I stretched the neck of my black T-shirt, pulling it down to reveal the tattoo over my heart. “Yep, still there.”
She ran her fingers over it and whispered, “just the ash.”