Page 30 of Somewhere in the Sunset

“You seem like you know what you’re doing,” Gracie comments from behind me.

I laugh as I plate up the mashed potatoes and asparagus, replaying Brooks’ instructions in my head. “Not really. I had a friend of mine help me out, and I’m trying real hard right now not to screw it up.” I grab the steaks and add them to the plates, then get to work on the most crucial part: the sauce. Gracie moves to my side so she can watch up close. I feign confidence as I add shallots to the pan, pour in the red wine, then add butter. Once ready, I pour the sauce over the steaks.

“This looks great, Weston,” Gracie says, licking her lips.

It’s always so jarring, hearing her say my name, and I have no idea why. It’s like it’s too personal. “Take a seat,” I tell her.

Gracie and her wine move to the table. I follow, setting both plates on the cheap placemats I bought. It’s too quiet in my apartment, so I turn on my speaker on the window ledge and connect my Spotify. Music warms the atmosphere. I sit down to join Gracie.

“I’m sorry there aren’t any candles,” I say, and she laughs.

“Everything is fine as it is,” she reassures me, then takes the first bite of her steak. She relaxes back in her chair and closes her eyes as she chews, almost like it’s heavenly. “That is .?.?. so good. See?” Her eyelids flutter back open. “Youcando this kind of stuff.”

Thank God the meal gets her approval. I test it for myself, and I must admit: I am a pretty good cook, after all. I owe Brooks a beer for this recipe.

“I knowhowto be romantic,” I muse, thoughtfully drinking my wine. “You cook dinners like this. You surprise her with flowers. You walk her to her door. You make plans ahead of time and just tell her what time to be ready for.”

Gracie watches me intently as I talk. Maybe my self-reflection is interesting. “But you didn’t do any of those things for Charlotte?”

I give her a minute shake of my head. “I forgot the romance shouldn’t stop once I get the girl. Once we got together, once she was mine .?.?. I didn’t realize I had to keep putting in any effort.” I screw my face up at my plate, losing my focus as the self-loathing hits me in waves. Analyzing my fuckups out loud only makes them seem so much worse. I got things so wrong. Easy, simple, obvious things. And I don’t know what that says about me as a person, to be someone who struggles to do the easy things in life, like giving the woman you love the bare minimum.

“It’s not all about the romantic gestures, you know,” Gracie says softly, delicately, because clearly she’s afraid of hurting my feelings. “We love those things, of course, but that’s not what we want the most. We want someone who senses when we’re upset and immediately takes us into their arms and checks in on us. Someone who fills us with reassurance when we’re doubting our own ambitions. Someone who supports and encourages our goals. Someone who’s always on our side, even when they think we’re wrong. It’s about feeling safe, because you know that no matter what, they won’t ever let anything bad happen.” She takes her lower lip between her teeth and sucks in a breath, fighting back welling tears. She’s not talking about “someone”; she’s talking about Luca and all of the things he once did for her. “So, flowers may be nice,” she says with a closed smile, “but I’ll take a good old bear hug any day of the week instead.”

I think of the hug we shared the first night we met. She was upset then, drunk and emotional, and I felt the exact same way she did. That’s how I knew she needed a hug in that moment, becauseIneeded one.

I set down my silverware against my plate and stand from my chair. I reach for Gracie’s hand and tug her to her feet. With great confusion and some degree of resistance, she stands.

“What are you doing?”

I recall her saying those exact words when I hugged her the first time, too.

“Someone who senses when you’re upset and takes you into their arms.” I repeat her own words back to her, and then tuck her perfectly against my chest. My arms are wrapped securely around her shoulders, my hand on the back of her head, holding her close. It’s the first time I’ve touched her since we slept together, and only now do I realize how much I’ve been craving the feel of her again. “You’re upset thinking about Luca, so I’m giving you a hug. That’s what I’m doing.”

Gracie relaxes against my body. She snuggles in closer, her face pressed into my shirt. “I’m always upset about Luca,” she mumbles. She folds her arms around my back and holds me just as tight while the music continues to play quietly around us. As she wiggles out of my embrace, she looks at me from beneath those long eyelashes and says, “You give really nice hugs, Weston.”

I don’t often get compliments, but that becomes my favorite.

“I’ll grab more wine,” I say, excusing myself to take the open bottle from the kitchen. I return and top up both our glasses, then sit down to finish our meal. I forget that when I first opened the door, I wanted to see Charlotte. Now I feel more than okay with having Gracie sit opposite me instead. “Does this feel weird to you? Eating dinner with someone that isn’t Luca?”

Gracie swallows her last mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Surprisingly, no. I feel comfortable with you.”

I smirk. The joke practically writes itself. “Maybe because we skipped ten steps ahead the other morning. You can’t get more comfortable with someone than what we did together.”

Gracie turns deadpan. “Thanks. I need more of this now.” She grabs the bottle of wine and tops her glass to the brim, then glowers playfully at me as she precar-iously moves the glass to her lips.

I don’t even fight my laugh. Once it settles into a smile, I tell her, “I’m glad you feel comfortable around me.”

Gracie blushes a tiny, tiny bit.

“Let me wash up these dishes real quick,” I say, taking her plate and stacking it on mine.

“I’ll dry.”

There’s a certain politeness to this girl that is incredibly attractive. A sweet sort of honesty that’s a characteristic I recognized in Charlotte, too. Maybe I’m just drawn to the women I feel inclined to protect, not because I believe theyneedlooking after, but because I don’t want them to ever lose their gentle nature.

I fill the sink with soapy water and Gracie stands by my side, armed with a dishtowel.

“When’s your next shift tackling the bad guys of San Francisco?” she asks.

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