Page 10 of Grace Notes
Smirking, he says, “Probably.”
“Then go ahead.”
“This is your chance to show Avery that prayers don’t have to be just pretty words of thanks. They can be ugly, raw emotions too.” Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “I don’t know alot, but I think the honest, lay it all out his feet are the kind of prayers he wants from us anyway.”
The wisdom of his words hit me in the sternum, and I rub my hand over the spot, trying to wipe away the ache.
“Yeah,” I croak. “Maybe you’re right.”
His advice stays with me as Julia returns with our tuxes, sending us each into our dressing rooms to change.
I’m lost in my thoughts until I hear a sudden rip from the other side of these paper-thin walls. Then I hear Grayson say, “Are you kidding me?”
There’s irritation in his voice that has me throwing the tux jacket on and rushing out of my changing room.
Too distracted by what’s happening outside, I don’t pay attention to the fit of my tux until it’s too late. The pant legs are just long enough that I trip over them as I rush out the door, falling flat on my face.
For a moment, I lie there stunned, not sure what happened, and then I look up. Grayson is standing in front of a three-way mirror, looking at his backside. A giant rip runs up his butt, right along the seam.
I snort, not trying to hide it. I’m still lying on the ground when Grayson turns and glares at me.
“What’s so funny? You’re the one on the ground because you can’t manage to walk.”
“Hey,” I scoff, pretending to be offended, “the pants are too big. It’s not my fault.” Holding up my leg, I show him how the hem hangs over my toes. “Who called in the measurements, anyway? Oh, right. That was you.”
Grayson glares at me through the mirror. “They must have written them down wrong.”
Shoving myself off the ground, I walk over to where he’s standing, careful not to trip. When I’m standing beside him, Iclap him on the shoulder. “You know you can just admit when you are wrong.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, but his glare turns into a smirk, looking like a little Cheshire cat.
“What?” I ask, a little afraid of that look.
“Fine. I called it in, but you get to be the one to call Emryn and tell her we have no tuxes for the ceremony. Good luck with that,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder the way I did him and then sauntering off.
I think about tripping him for a minute, but then it hits me—he’s right. And I’m dreading that phone call.
Chapter 6
Brooks,
I’m sorry I yelled at you about the tuxes. You didn’t deserve my anger because you did nothing wrong. Thanks for being my safe spot and letting me yell, though. I needed to get some of this stress off my chest.
Between finals, planning this vow renewal, and worrying about Avery, I’m drowning in it.
Maybe I should take a semester off school—give myself time to breathe? I can always go back after things calm down.
But it scares me that I won’t go back. I’ve been there, done that. What do you think I should do?
Love you,
Emryn
PS. I really am sorry.
Chapter 7
Emryn
