43. Grace

Chapter 43

Grace

Something felt wrong.

Two weeks ago, Alex knelt at my feet and begged me to keep in touch, but when I called, he couldn't find time to talk for three days. Had his feelings changed? Had going back to San Francisco reminded him of what he had, and he'd forgotten about his desperate plea on New Year's morning? Had he reverted to his cold facade of indifference?

Then again, his voice hadn't sounded arrogant or detached, it was frazzled and frustrated. He'd been on a plane to ‘nowhere important,' whatever that meant. Was he on a business trip like the one before Christmas that consumed him? When he called, would he be an exhausted wreck again, a shell of the man I knew?

To take my mind off worrying about Alex, I worried instead about finding a new house. My realtor showed me several homes, but nothing had been right. Mallory or Elijah tagged along for a second opinion, and at first they'd been helpful, but for the past week they'd been nitpicking, finding problems with every possible rental. It almost felt like they were sabotaging my search.

After two days of agony as hours crawled by, with four hours left I went to Mallory's 5:15 candlelight yoga class. I hadn't told her about reconnecting with him, too nervous the conversation would go badly and her grudge would deepened. After the last student left at 6:45 — two hours left — Mallory threaded her arm through mine and suggested we go for a walk on the unseasonably warm late January night.

"Can we walk by a house near the high school? I think it's the one." Based on the listing, I imagined baking in the cozy kitchen, taking a bath — a real bath in a bathtub, after years with only a shower! — and pushing Ruby on the swingset in the fenced-in backyard.

"Sure, later," she shrugged, "but first I need to swing by my dad's office."

I tried not to seethe at her indifference on our walk to Clarke & Associates. Mallory's hand lingered on the doorknob. "Remember the Mad Men finale, when Don called the three most important women in his life?" She drew a triangle in the air and flipped her hair. "I even look like Sally."

I had no idea, but couldn't ask before she opened the door and yelled into the vacant conference room, "I'm here, the party can begin."

"You're early, Shrimp," his voice echoed from down the hallway.

My knees almost buckled as I gripped the back of a chair.

Alex was here. Not in San Francisco, not traveling. Here .

He stepped into the room, eyes fixed on a stack of papers. He looked like a Brooks Brothers model in pressed trousers and a simple button down, the top notch unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. Meanwhile I was a makeup-free mess in sweaty yoga pants and a baggy hoodie.

"I told you to be here at eight, it's not —" His eyes shifted from his sister to me. His breath hitched, my name escaping his lips on an exhale. His hands clenched around his paperwork.

Panic rose in my chest, palms aching from squeezing the chair, the press of wood into Ruby's mother's ring pushing against the pulse in my finger.

He snapped at his sister. "You weren't supposed to bring her here."

"You said to come over after I finished class."

"You. Not her." He scrubbed his hand over his flustered face, then his expression turned apologetic. "I had a plan, Grace, I didn't expect you to —"

The front door flew open. Victoria stepped inside confidently, sloughing off a stylish pea coat. Her heel click stomped over my blossoming hope.

"Hey, Victoria," Mallory said without surprise, reaching for a one-armed hug which Victoria returned stiffly. "Didn't expect you to fly out."

"I was in New York meeting with head hunters," Victoria said, distracted by her bag vibrating. She pulled her phone out, made a disgusted sound, shot off a quick reply, then lifted her head, assessing me head-to-toe before reaching out her hand. "Victoria Blackstone. "

Alex blew out a hard exhale. From his look of horror, I wondered if my hand would burst into flames when our fingers touched.

I plastered on a smile, reminding myself that you catch more flies with honey, and shook her hand firmly. "Grace Alvarez."

Mallory wrapped a hand around my bicep and stepped backward towards the door. "Well, I fucked up the timing so we'll go grab a drink and —"

"No, don't go. I'll just …" Alex brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, then gestured magnanimously towards the conference table.

Mallory sprawled in her chair, while I sat beside her with ankles crossed, twisting Ruby's ring under the table and trying to slow down my rapid heartbeat and process what was happening.

Alex was supposed to call me in two hours. I thought he'd call from San Francisco, but he was here. He didn't want me here now, that was clear … but he didn't want me to leave, either. He tapped his fingers twice on a spiral-bound document, looked at me, and closed his eyes to brace himself.

Victoria perched on the edge of her chair while announcing to Alex, "Let's get started, shall we? My driver will be back in an hour."

His eyes snapped ope. "You're going back to New York tonight?"

"Somehow my father discovered I was in the city and demanded a meeting before I fly home." Her lips tightened. "Hopefully I can dodge his inevitable expectation to return to real estate."

"I might be able to help you with that conversation," he said with a fond smile that made my stomach feel like it dropped to my knees. "There's something I've been thinking about since we went to dinner. Sometime between the sea bass and the creme brulee … I had a revelation."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "The whiskey convinced you that you were brilliant."

His lip curled and jealousy pooled in my stomach, wanting that familiar grin to be aimed at me. "Once they told me you weren't getting promoted, I knew you'd leave. You're the only thing that made that job bearable and my entire life in San Francisco tolerable … and I'm losing you." When he smiled at her softly, my heart twisted in my chest. "So it's been a long time coming," he said as he reached into his pocket, "but I finally have a proposal for you. "

My vision tunneled. Did he invite me here to propose to her?

No, he didn't invite me, did he have his sister drag me here for —

No, I wasn't supposed to be here for this. Neither was Mallory.

I reconstructed his timeline: Victoria at 7, Mallory at 8, me at 9. Last place.

He would propose to Victoria. His family would arrive to celebrate and probably his parents would come too. Then he'd call to let me down easy.

His hand fumbled, and Mallory placed her fingertips on my forearm, grounding me in reality. Wait for it , her touch said. Breathe .

"Be my partner," he said. "My work wife."

Wait, his what ?

"Your work wife?" she said, sounding just as confused as I felt.

"Mallory used it to describe how she loves working with Grace." His voice softened on my name, and his hands trembled slightly as he lifted a post-it note. "A platonic friendship with a work colleague characterized by mutual trust, loyalty, and respect."

He lifted a remote control and said, "I propose we stop waiting to be promoted and instead, we start our own law firm. Make our own partnership."

A law firm? With her?

What the frick was happening?

The screen behind him lit up with a professional logo in bold text: "Blackstone & Clarke, Attorneys at Law."

Her lips parted in surprise.

He looked self-satisfied to have caught her unaware, saying with a wry grin, "You always told me you'd make partner first."

"Damn right I did," she said, snapping out of the momentary surprise, but her expression remained dubious. "So you want to move to Manhattan?"

"No," he said. "We're based in Saratoga Springs."

Wait … based here? Did that mean he moving here?

But he hadn't said that, had he?

Her wide eyes scanned his dad's wood-paneled conference room and I winced at her disdain. "You expect me to work here ?"

"Well, not in this office," he said calmly. "I've identified potential office spaces. We can probably convince Connor to join us as our paralegal. "

Her skeptical eyebrow lifted. "And pay him with what money?"

"I have a three-pronged strategy." Alex's smile turned ruthless as he clicked to the next slide. "These are the Silicon Valley nanotech companies that Hamilton & Houghton represent. The two of us have touched 60% of these accounts." He clicked again, and more than half the logos were circled, then another half dozen appeared below. "These companies have a presence at the Saratoga County microchip plant."

Her lips widened slowly, like the Cheshire cat. "How many could we poach?"

His cunning expression mirrored hers. "Even if undercut their fees by 30%, I estimate a million in billings when we walk."

My mouth dropped open, but nobody noticed my reaction.

She leaned forward to review the slide and murmured, "Fred Houghton will never see it coming."

"The perfect vengeance," he said with a glimmer of mischief in his eye, "like Inigo Montoya."

She covered her mouth quickly to hide an unexpected smile.

"We can afford to undercut them, because the cost of living here is lower." He flicked to the next slide of a luxury condo. "For the cost of my one bedroom, you could buy this."

She tapped her lip several times, then leaned back in her chair with arms crossing her ample chest. "It's not enough."

"That's just part one," he said, his gaze tilting to look at his sister. "Part two is sitting beside you, the giant attitude in the minuscule body."

Mallory straightened in alarm at their sudden attention. "Me?"

"You. I had a whole pitch about you, but since I didn't include a slide about how you can't tell time or follow simple directions to save your life," he tried to sound gruff, but I don't think I imagined an eye roll, "I'll just tell a story."

He settled his hip against the table and I found myself leaning forward in rapt bewilderment.

"When I flew home last month," his eyes met mine and warmed before twisting back to his sister, "I prepared myself to dodge questions about being Dominic Martin's brother. But you know what everybody said when I introduced myself?" He made an annoyed face, but couldn't hide the slight eye crinkle. "‘ You're Alex Clarke? Are you related to Mallory? '" His lips pursed in mock frustration. "Even my barber told me his wife loves her yoga classes."

"Aw, you went to see Tony!" Mal said with a clap.

"This sister of mine knows every business owner in this town. And for some reason, they all adore her," he said sarcastically to Victoria, though his lip quirked in a proud grin.

"I smell yet another favor …" Mallory said dryly. What did she mean, ‘another?'

"Not a favor, a quid pro quo, " Alex said. "If you introduce us to any businesses in town that need legal services, hOMe Stretch Yoga will be our first local client. We'll help you expand your studio into an empire."

"That's a colonialist phrase," she said briskly, "but I accept your terms." She'd dreamed about expansion, but we were too busy running the current place.

He bit back a smirk and flicked ahead a few slides, displaying a map. "I've identified potential properties for expansion. Victoria can lead commercial real estate negotiations and I'll make sure your contracts cover your ass." When Mallory winced at talk of contracts, Alex amended, "With Grace, of course."

Right. As the studio manager and her ‘work wife,' I manage the paperwork. Maybe that's why he asked me to stay for the terms, given that he hadn't talked to me and had barely looked at me.

But just as bitterness began leaking in, his gaze traveled to me. His expression softened, and my stomach flipped in confused hope.

"What's the third part?" Victoria asked, pulling him back into his pitch.

The screen showed a photo of Alex, Victoria and … oh my gosh, was that Nick? They looked young and happy, unencumbered by the weight of the world.

Mallory exclaimed, "Holy shit."

Victoria released an audible gasp and whispered, "I — I haven't seen this in …"

"Houghton threw it in my face when he offered me the partnership," Alex's voice was a sneer, "He said they didn't notice back when he was a ‘nobody.' But when I looked at this picture, all I saw was the answer to Mallory's question."

Mallory tilted her head like a confused puppy.

"Right here, in this office, you asked me the last time I was happy."

"Goddamn, I'm insightful," she murmured and nudged my bicep .

He pointed to the screen. "There it is. Before we finished law school, or started at Hamilton & Houghton. The last time I was happy … until last month."

He leaned his palm on the table.

"You told me I was chained to my desk, that my self-worth came from my billable hours. When I saw that picture, I realized I'd never been happy in that job … and I compared that with how happy the studio makes you. How much fun the two of you have together," he gestured loosely, but kept his eyes on his sister like it hurt to look at me, "and I envied that."

With pleading eyes, he said to Victoria, "We've been miserable for a decade because we let somebody else dictate our success."

Her face was implacable, but her hands gripped the chair seat. Her lip quivered and she bit it tightly as her gaze dropped to the table. I felt like I was watching something off-limits. They had a decade of history, and I walked into this … what exactly was this: a negotiation or an olive branch? A job offer or a lifeline?

"Victoria," he said softly, like he was talking to a scared cat. "If we do this, we become our own bosses, set our own hours and make our own rules. I think …" he took a deep breath. "I think we could have fun."

She lifted her head slowly to meet his gaze. They stared at each other for about thirty seconds of tense silence. Even though neither was paying attention to me, I held my breath in case an errant cough broke their nonverbal standoff.

Even Mallory stopped fidgeting for once.

Victoria broke the silence in a rapid-fire deliberation. "Six months."

"Twelve."

"Nine."

"End of the year, and I pay for a headhunter if you hate it."

She nodded once, decisively, and stood with her hand outstretched. He grabbed it and pulled her close into a hug. She let out a surprised squeal and smacked his chest. The gesture made my chest tighten.

When she stepped back, she ran her palm over her silk blouse as he wagged his finger at her. "We max out at sixty hours a week."

He slid the spiral-bound notebook over to Victoria. She lifted a paper small enough to be a business card, and her mouth curved from a tight line into a mischievous smile .

After another tense pause, the silence got to me. "I'll send over the studio's financial details so you can get started."

Confusion furrowed his brow. "Is that why you think you're here?"

I kept my eyes on the empty table.

"Shit, Grace, no," he said sharply, running his hand down his face. "No, I wanted this figured out before I — I need to tell you that —"

He stopped, expression pained. Slowly, his head tilted across the table, where his sister and his ex-girlfriend-slash-business-partner sat wide-eyed. "Can you excuse us?"

Victoria glided elegantly to the small porch, black heels tapping. Mallory followed, winking at me salaciously and closing the door behind her.

Alex's hands dropped to his sides. He said tenderly, "Grace, I'm sorry I didn't make it clear, I wasn't expecting you to — she only had an hour, and before I …"

His eyes were too intense, his voice too deep, his smell too strong. After missing him so much, not knowing if I'd ever see him again, finally reaching out and getting brushed off, feeling like he didn't want me here now …

I cracked. I had to look away, anywhere but at his worried face.

"Shit," he muttered. "I wanted to give you my undivided attention. I had — I had two hours to finish this, then I was going to —"

"Stop," I said, holding up my hand. "I need a minute."

He exhaled, then dropped into the chair Mallory had just vacated. Instead of her relaxed sprawl, he sat with his elbows on his knees, running his palms along his legs. My fingers rose to my brow, rubbing my forehead as if I could smooth out the myriad questions floating around my head.

After a few moments, I asked the only question my overwhelmed brain could parse: "What are you doing here?"

He blinked twice, like it was obvious from the pitch he just delivered. "I'm moving home. I regretted leaving before I even walked out of your house."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"You told me not to." His hands clenched in fists like it had been as much of an effort for him not to call as it had been for me. "You said not to drag out the inevitable."

"But I … I didn't know you were thinking about all this," I gestured at the screen, displaying & the Blackstone Clarke logo.

"When you called, I was already on a plane back east so I could apologize in person for how badly I fucked up, and see if I still had a chance."

"You've been here since Tuesday?" I'd been waiting for his stupid call, if he'd been hanging out at his parents house while I was —

"No, I flew in this afternoon. I had days of meetings lined up, trying to figure out …" he gestured loosely to the screen. "I knew you'd have questions I couldn't answer yet, and I didn't want you to turn me away for being an idiot again, tell me not to bother."

"I wouldn't have," I breathed.

"My plan was to call from your driveway and ask you to look out your window. I have —" he laughed lightly, leaning closer. "I have the Santa jacket in my car. I was going to ask if I could come up even though it isn't Christmas. Would you have let me in, Grace?"

My hand rose to the lump in my throat. Trying to lighten the mood, I asked in a hoarse voice, "Did you make me a fancy slide deck too?"

"No, darling," he said, his tone softening. "What I'm doing with them, that's how I want to make a living." He gestured to where Victoria and Mallory leaned on the railing talking to somebody on the sidewalk. "But it's you I want to make a life with, Grace."

When a sob escaped my mouth, he scrubbed his hand over his face. "I never should have asked you to move, especially without time to think about it. It wasn't fair. I was …" He lifted a hand to run it through his hair.

"I thought that having you near me would be enough, that I would be ok if you were mine. But I don't want you to be mine, Grace. I just want to be yours."

He brought a fingertip to my chin. "I've spent the last month figuring out how to fix my mistakes and make it up to you. Hoping I can prove how much I love you. Hoping you can forgive me. Hoping that I'm not too late."

He held out his hand, his eyes pleading. When I detangled my fingers and removed them from my sweatshirt pocket, he reached for me, dropping his gaze to where our fingers touched … and then frowned. His throat bobbed as his thumb ran over the diamond on my right ring finger .

When his eyes lifted to mine, they were disoriented.

He released my hands with a curse — the bad one — then stood up abruptly. His face crumpled in grief before he turned away. "I was only gone a few weeks, but already you —"

"It's not what you think," I said, standing up quickly.

His clenched fist rose to his forehead. "Was it the man I heard on the phone?"

I couldn't handle the pain on his face, not for a single second. I slid my hand through the placket of his button-down and pulled him closer, pressing my lips to his. His tense body softened, wrapping his cautious arm around my waist.

"I can't believe I fell in love with somebody so oblivious."

His body stilled. "Say that again."

"Oblivious," I teased. "I told you it wasn't what you think but —"

"No, the other part," his forehead dropped to mine.

"I'm in love with you, Alex Clarke," I said, butterflies in my chest fluttering wildly as his eyes warmed. I lifted my right hand, palm facing me. "Wrong hand."

His face softened in relief and he kissed me fiercely, without hesitation.

When we heard Mallory's laugh from the porch, he broke the kiss and groaned in frustration. I held out my hand and explained, "It's a mother's ring. Jean gave it to me when — Alex, I'm going to be Ruby's foster mom."

His mouth lifted into that glorious smile. My feet lifted off the floor as he spun around, a quick laugh of joy escaping me. He pressed his lips to mine firmly, like a period at the end of a sentence.

"You're going to be a mom, Gracie!" But then his brow furrowed, focusing at the ring again. "So who did I hear you talking to on the phone?"

"You're never going to believe this: After you left, my brother found me."

His jaw tightened. "I told that son of a —"

"Not Levi," I interrupted, resting my fingertip gently on his lips. His fierce lion face softened to a kitten at my touch. "Elijah."

"Elijah found you?" The hope in his eyes reflected how mine probably looked when I saw my brother through the yoga studio door. "How?"

"You told my mom that I worked at a yoga studio and leaked my name."

He looked chagrined. "I didn't mean to, I — "

"It's ok," I said softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. Loving that he was close enough to do that again. That he was moving home. That he was mine . "He'd been searching for me. After your clue, he visited yoga studios across the state until he found me."

Alex's eyes brimmed with tears. His hands found mine, pressing his thumb into my ring. "How is — where does — ?"

"He's been staying with Isaac in Albany. Albany, can you believe it? Isaac is married with a daughter and another on the way. I have … I have a family," I said, choking up in lingering disbelief. "And Elijah is moving here too."

"Good, you belong here," he said firmly. "I just want to be where you are, if you'll let me."

I had no words left, so I lifted onto my toes, and his lips met mine. A covenant, a claiming.

A homecoming.

"Listen, I know a lot has changed since I left. You've got Ruby," he said, his thumb tapping the ring on my right hand. "And now you've got Elijah and Isaac," his thumb grazed the other knuckles. "And you'll always have a special bond with Mallory. So … they can have the other nine," he said quietly, then ran his thumb over the fourth finger on my left hand. "But save this finger for me, will you, Grace? And let me know when you're ready?"

My heart exploded with joy. We kissed until we were breathless … then he lifted his head to look around his dad's office. "This next part would be smoother if we were at your place like I planned."

"My place is a mess," I said shamefully. "I wasn't expecting —"

He threaded his fingers through mine. "Let me lock up. I know exactly where to go."