Page 11 of Falling for Grace

We walk back outside, where the sun is now setting, kissing the horizon line and turning the sky into a beautiful sunset, the white fluffy clouds radiating hues of orange. The sun gives up the sky to the moon and the fairy lights overhead come on. We just need the sea, and it would be like we are abroad, not wrapped in our own little Surrey bubble.

We join the table and toast, knocking back another shot. The burn is a nice distraction from the pain building in my chest. I’m not sure even my poker face is going to get me through the rest of this party.

Brandon is opposite me, Danny to my right. Ted is still head of the table, but we are the last men standing. The Holder family, with me, their adopted daughter.

I have the buzz of alcohol, but I can feel myself getting antsy, my body telling me to run. I know I can’t, this is Ted’s day, so I need a distraction that isn’t alcohol.

I need a moment to take a breather.

I need some space to gather my thoughts and some water.

I definitely need some water.

I get up and head to the kitchen.

I fill up a plastic tumbler with cold water from the tap and guzzle it back.

The Holders.

It’s good seeing them all together again.

But I can’t help thinking: what If he hadn’t got that role in LA?

What if he had stayed in Cramwell Drive?

But he didn’t stay.

I spot a deck of cards and grab it.

I know just the distraction.

Ted has one of his golf clubs again, and Brandon is standing up holding a putter, giving it a test run.

“Everyone remembers Shit Head, right?” I announce as I throw the deck of cards onto the table.

Everyone groans.

“Oh, no, Grace,” Sue says as she watches me take my seat and pull the cards out of the box. I begin to count them to make sure there’s a full deck. “You and Brandon always get so competitive.”

Brandon places the putter down and takes his seat, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together.

“Oh, yes, Bush! Let the tournament of 2012 continue.”

“No, no, no!” Danny chimes in. “That period is now known as the Dark Summer of 2012. You two almost killed each other that year.”

“Almost,” I agree. “But look—he’s still standing, and so am I.”

“But we may not be by the end of the night,” Brandon adds.

“Are we doing it with sevens?” Danny asks as I start dealing. Three cards faced down, followed by six cards for each player to sort through, choosing their best three to place on top of the ones facing down.

“Hang on, hang on. I can’t bloody remember how to play this sodding thing,” Ted says, trying to pick up the three faced down.

“No, Dad,” Danny says, throwing a red beer cap at him. Ted looks down as it rebounds off his shoulder back onto the table. “You always do this. We all know you’re trying to peek.”

Ted throws the bottle top back. “If I can’t cheat on my birthday, then what’s the sodding point of playing?”

I quickly run over the rules again. “Are you with us, Ted?”

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