Page 33 of Faking It with the Ice Queen

Victor’s gaze softened slightly, though there was still a hint of expectation in his eyes. “You’ll figure it out, Elara. You always do. But don’t let your pride get in the way of something that could make you happy.”

The table fell into a quiet lull after that, the weight of Elara’s confession hanging in the air. But as the conversation turned to other topics, she felt a small sense of relief. The truth was out there, for better or worse, and maybe—just maybe—this was the first step toward letting herself be vulnerable enough to make things right with Grace.

14

Grace woke up in her own bed for the first time that week, the familiar smell of her laundry sharply reminding her she was no longer sleeping next to Elara. She rolled over onto her back and splayed her arms out wide, attempting to take up as much space as she could, hoping she could rid herself of the emptiness threatening to consume her. As she stared up at her ceiling, she felt a soft plop next to her and smiled as she turned to watch her cat trot over to lay on her chest.

Grace gently folded her arms to hold him closer. “Good Morning Mr. Fluffy Pants.” As she stroked his back, his soft purrs rumbled into her chest. Her eyes were sore and swollen from crying all night, but everything felt a little better with a cat purring on her. She giggled at Mr. Fluffy Pants as he curled his back to encourage better butt skritches. Having received the attention he wanted and desiring no more, the cat jumped off the bed and meowed loudly in a clear demand to be fed.

Grace scoffed as she sat up. “That’s all I’m good for, huh? A quick cuddle and a can of wet food, eh?”

Grace felt her heart squeeze and her eyes tear up as she realized how close that proclamation came to what she said lastnight. Her hands brushed through the mess of waves and curls that had tangled through the night, trying to release the knots as much as she wanted to release the tension building back up in her chest.

Grace softly padded barefoot across the apartment toward the pantry and pulled out a can of cat food. Mr. Fluffy Pants had happily chirped at the sound of the metal screeching as she pulled off the top. She dumped the can into his fish-shaped bowl and watched as he happily chowed down. Grace pulled out her cell and shot a quick text to her Aunt Lucy.

Got back last night. No need to stop by. Thanks for cat sitting.

It was early in the morning, so she doubted Aunt Lucy would see her text any time soon. It would be a miracle if she read the text before 10 a.m. Leaning against the counter, Grace looked around her apartment, noticing the stark differences in comparison to the suite she shared with Elara. Her walls were covered in art prints, a collection she had started in her teens after she had thrifted an original sketch by David Hockney—a find that had inspired her dream to open her own thrift store.

Her furniture was covered in cat hair and throw pillows, with a wine stain on the armchair that never fully came out regardless of how hard she scrubbed. She had shoes in a pile near the mirror in the hall, proof of a wardrobe dilemma that she had yet to clean up. Every inch was full of life and color, yet she still felt empty. Refusing to give into the urge to cry again, Grace turned to her cabinets in search of any food she could scrounge together to make a decent breakfast. She sighed as she realized she had not gone grocery shopping in weeks and only had condiments and some saltines left.

Just as she was considering how satisfying saltines and yellow mustard would be, she heard her phone ding, indicating a text had come through. Her stomach flipped in a way that hadnothing to do with her impending breakfast disaster. Grace held her breath as she turned over the phone to look at the screen, and gasped in surprise as she sawAunt Lucy’s nameflash on the screen.What in the world is she doing awake this early?

Grace opened her texts.

Why so early? You weren’t supposed to be back for days.

Grace sighed as she tapped her fingers on the screen quickly, responding in as few words as possible.

Things didn’t work out.

Grace stared at her phone, waiting for the inevitable reply. When none came, she shrugged and made her way to the couch. Grabbing the remote, she flipped through the channels until she found something safe. The Cooking Channel wouldn’t do. She had that class with Elara. Neither did any of her favorite home renovation shows. She wouldn’t be able to think of anything but the details Elara put into her resort. Hallmark movies were out of the question. She felt like throwing up just thinking about watching some sappy romance. Eventually, Grace put on the History Channel, which was playing a rerun ofAncient Aliens.Definitely no connection to Elara there.

Just as the reenactments were starting, she heard a knock on her door. Grace sat still, staring at the door unsure what to do. No one ever came to her door. But Grace sighed in exasperation when she heard her Aunt Lucy yell out, “Grace! I’m coming in! I’ve got a key.”

Aunt Lucy opened the door without waiting for Grace to get up off the couch. She barreled across the living room, her hands full with coffee cups and a brown paper bag. The smell of baked goods wafted out, making Grace’s mouth water.

Sitting up, Grace reached out for the bag, which Lucy handed over immediately. She opened up the bag and laughed as she saw it was filled with every assortment of pastry she liked.Blueberry muffins, chocolate croissants, scones, and even half a baguette and a tub of butter.

“I wasn’t sure in what state of disrepair I would find you in, but I was absolutely sure that sugar and carbs could cure it.”

Grace laughed again as she pulled out a chocolate croissant and took a big bite out of it. The flakey, buttery layers were a perfect balance to the rich, sweet chocolate in the middle. Mouth full, Grace mumbled, “Thank you,” and reached out for one of the coffee cups.

Lucy handed over one and took a sip from the other. Grace sighed when the sweet caramel and bitter espresso warmed her throat, loosening the grip of sorrow just a tad.

Grace plopped unceremoniously down on the couch and pulled out another pastry, the chocolate croissant still in her hand. When she pulled out the blueberry muffin and bit off the top, Aunt Lucy sat down across from her gently and touched her knee. “That bad, huh?”

Grace chewed quietly, taking the time to rein in her tears and harden herself before responding. “She said that it was just an arrangement and that it would never be anything more.”

Grace avoided looking Aunt Lucy in the eyes, knowing that pity and empathy directed at her would only make her cry. She took another bite of the chocolate croissant, looking down at her hands instead of directly at Lucy. Grace felt the hand on her knee squeeze as Aunt Lucy sighed deeply.

“Grace. I’m sorry. I know you are hurting right now. But from everything you said, Elara knew it wasn’t just an arrangement. We knew she had a lot of walls built up. You’ve always been so willing to be vulnerable with people; you wear your heart on your sleeve proudly. Which is something I love about you dearly. It’s what makes you so enigmatic and lovable. But not everyone is like that. I know Elara hurt you, but I think you just need to give her time to face her fears.”

Hot tears spilled down Grace’s cheeks as she listened. Her heart hurt, but her stomach began to feel queasy as she realized she was partly to blame for her situation. They had just talked about giving Elara time the day before, and yet Grace had pummeled on headlong anyway.

“I know. Ugh, I know I wear my heart on my sleeve. It hurts enough right now for me not to need you to tell me that. And I tried to give her time, I swear I did. But…she did some things that felt so wrong to me. She made me feel used and alone, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to say something.”

Aunt Lucy sighed and sat back in her chair. “I’m proud of you for not letting her hurt you. That takes a lot of strength. I just hope you give her the chance to realize how wrong she is.”

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