Page 51 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

“Yeah, I get that impression.”

He quickly glances to the side and sees Josh, his back to the door, pushing his way out with a drink in each hand. Tommy excuses himself and walks away again. Strange.

“What did Tommy want?” Josh asks when he’s a few feet away.

“He told me to take it easy on you,” I lie, because I’m not really sure how helpful the truth would be.

“I hope the rest of your day went well,” he says, sliding my drink across the slick table. “Sounded like it was going to be a busy one.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking a quick sip before adding, “It was incredibly busy, but it was also mostly good, so I can’t complain.”

“Mostly?”

I take another gulp of my drink and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Lucia told me a few hours ago that Maisy Miller extended an invitation to this new podcast she’s launching soon. It sounds interesting, but I’m not so sure that I’m up to the task. Just another one of those weird situations that I now find myself in—knowing something would be very good for me as a brand but maybe not so good for me, the person.”

“I think you’re ready,” he says without a moment of hesitation and with complete confidence.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’ve spent a few solid weeks getting comfortable with interviews, and James assures me that your appearance onThe Maisy Showreally wasn’tthatbad,” he responds. “As you requested, I still haven’t watched it.”

“James is too nice.”

He lets out a quick laugh and shakes his head. “You clearly didn’t have him as a big brother growing up.”

I return his laughter with my own and think of Ava and Benji. At the end of the last soccer season, Ava’s coach congratulated me on raising a “natural leader” who “understands instinctively how to motivate others.” Benji was within earshot, and as we walked back to the car, he asked in the most sarcastic tone I’veeverheard from a child, “Can you please explain to me whatmotivationmeans? Because I am clearly confused.” To everyone else she’s Ava, but to him she’s a bossy big sister with a short fuse and often very little patience for him.

“You really think I could handle an hour in front of a microphone with Maisy?” I ask, wanting a bit more assurance.

“I do, and I speak from experience that we can do hard things,” he begins. “Six months after Katrina left, we were both invited to the same wedding—Lara’s, actually. I almost skipped it because I was still pretty embarrassed and sad about the whole thing. But I went and ended up having one of the best nights of my life. A lot of my friends struggled with how to support me when it all went down, but that night things just clicked for everyone. The guys decided to turn it into an epic guys’ night. The wedding had a middle school dance vibe in the funniest way possible. Some moments were a struggle, but on the whole? A really good time. I learned that sometimes the only way to get past something is to go directly through. Walking in the door was the hardest part. The rest of the night was a breeze compared to that.”

“So, the anticipation might be the worst part—is that what you’re telling me?”

“Exactly,” he responds. “Plus, if James is lying and that first interview really went as poorly as youfeltlike it did, maybe thebetter question is ‘Could it be any worse?’ If the answer is no, then I say go for it.”

“I think you have more faith in me than perhaps I have in myself,” I say with a gentle smile.

“That’s what friends are for,” he responds, raising his glass.

That’s us, I think.Just friends.

—

An hour later,we’ve been absorbed into a large group conversation, and most of the friends are a few drinks deep when I look around in shock at what I’ve just heard.

“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight,” I say, turning to Josh. “You havetengodchildren?”

Everyone is now acknowledging that this sounds a little crazy, but as a group, they try to insist that it happened organically. It started when James and Kendell had their first a few years after they got married and continued straight through to Sunny’s daughter, born just two years ago. In between those bookends are eight other kids of friends from high school, college, and extended family. Over and over people have chosen him for this important honor. A petite brunette named Laney jumps in.

“A few years ago, a bunch of us were on a trip to Mexico—Josh was too busy to come. Anyway, we look around after we board and realize that if the plane goes down, Josh is going to be raising seven kids on his own,” she says. “Can you imagine the A-frame bursting at the seams with toddlers and teens?”

This makes everyone laugh uproariously, especially me. Whilethis story isn’t new to the group, it’s clear no one has heard it in a while. There is genuine joy and laugh-induced tears from folks just thinking about Josh trying to raise all of those kids on his own. I grab on to the new fact that I’ve just learned: the type of house he lives in. I find myself trying to imagine it. I can’t believe that we’ve never talked about it before, given how much we discuss mine.

Josh takes all of the ribbing in stride and says confidently, “For the record, I would’ve been great at it.”

A few new people arrive, and the group naturally separates into smaller conversations. A couple people, including Lara, start to say goodbyes before they leave. She confirms with Josh that he hasn’t been drinking much and can take me home. Then she turns to me.

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