Page 50 of Falling for Grace

“Well, thank you,” I say, reaching across the console and grabbing his hand. He looks down at it as I squeeze it.

“How was it?”

He turns his attention to my face, his green eyes sad. “Fucking horrendous. I think…” He pauses and looks forward but still grips my hand. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get over this,” he admits, and I squeeze his hand even harder. “I mean, I don’t know how I am.”

“You will, we will. Life goes on, that’s the weird thing about grief. It feels like everything is crashing down, but life continues.” We stare at the person crossing the road in front of us, oblivious to the turmoil in the car that briefly shines a light on his path. “Right now we have no idea how we’re going to get through it, but we will, Brandon.”

I reach out my hand and cup his cheek.

“Mum’s a mess. It’s hard to see her like this, both of them.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I’m terrified that the paparazzi are going to intrude on the funeral. They don’t need their grief plastered all over the tabloids.”

“Neither do you, Brandon.”

“It's part of my life now, though, Gracie. In a fucked up way, I’m conditioned and used to it. But not them, not this.”

“You asked for privacy, who knows.”

His humourless laugh confirms I’m naive. “Thank you,” he says suddenly. “Thank you for coming. I know Danny would be pleased you came.”

Would he be pleased? Or was I part of the reason?

“Gracie?”

I shake my head.

“No, nothing,” I say, pushing him away with those two words and taking my hands back.

“That’s what this week’s going to be like, isn’t it?” Brandon asks sadly. “You constantly shutting me out.”

I look out the window, too afraid to look at him because he is right. I will be doing that, until the moment I rip off the band-aid and let Brandon see the ugliness of the wound.

Chapter 19

Iput the last plate on the table, then feel the floor move under my feet as I stare at the empty space where Danny would always sit. One extra place setting, one extra set of cutlery, an extra chair. I have laid one extra place setting without even meaning to.

“Gracie?” Sue’s voice makes me jump and I drop the glass that I was holding. I watch in slow motion as it hits the floor. The glass cracks along the perfectly smooth surface and I’m completely helpless to stop the fissures from opening up.

“Oh, bollocks,” I say, bending to pick up the bigger pieces. “I’m so sorry, Sue, I just zoned out and laid a place for him.” My hand slips on the glass but the pain of the cut doesn’t even register. It slices through my skin like it’s crepe paper. I drop the shard of glass and turn my hand over to look at the blood that is now pooling in my palm.

I flop back on my tired ass and sigh. Sue is by my side in an instant, grabbing my hand and putting hers on top of mine to stop the bleeding.

“Ted!” she calls. “Grab the dustpan and hoover.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking at the broken glass all over the dining room carpet.

“Oh, shush. It was an accident. Blimey, Grace, you got yourself good.” She passes me the dishcloth that was draped over her shoulder. “Just hold that over it and keep pressure on it.”

I do as she says.

Sue stands quickly clearing the additional table setting before Ted arrives. She’s protecting them; I think this week will be full of protecting each other from feeling more emotions than we have to.

“Oh no, I’m bleeding all over the carpet,” I say, standing and walking into the kitchen.

“The sink’s full, Grace.” And Christ, that’s not an understatement. Pots and pans are everywhere. “Head to the bathroom. Brandon can grab you the first aid kit, I hope you don’t need stitches.”

I walk up the stairs, cradling my hand, the throb of the cut now beginning to radiate through my palm.

“I know, funeral’s on Friday.” Brandon’s voice. “She’s an old friend, Ava, she picked me up from the airport. You know what these paps are like.”

---