Park Avenue Prince(55)

I took a swig of my beer, trying to swallow down the anxiety threatening to drown me.

“Your problem,” Harper told Grace, “is that you’re a fixer.”

Grace snapped her head around and caught me forcing down a chuckle. It was one of the many things I loved about Grace, and it was exactly how I’d described her in one of our first encounters. She scowled and placed her hand over my mouth. I grabbed her wrist, kissed her palm and twined her fingers in mine. “I didn’t say a word, Princess.”

“She’s always taken men on like projects. Guys that need fixing, or nurturing,” Harper said.

“Harper,” Grace complained. I knew she didn’t like hearing herself described like that.

“You give and give and give,” Harper continued, ignoring Grace, “until you’re bled dry. It’s like you’re permanently breastfeeding these losers! You’ve been dating children.”

Grace sighed.

“Well, I don’t need fixing,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t true. But I also knew that nobody, not even Grace, was capable of fixing me. No one had the power to go back in time and stop that drunk driver. But did Grace know that? Or was I just another one of her boyfriends who needed nurturing?

“We all need a little fixing,” Grace said in a small voice as I smoothed my hand over her back.

Perhaps I should have walked away from Grace, but now that I was here, I didn’t have the strength to let her go. “I think Harper’s trying to tell you that you’re kind and generous and loving,” I said.

“In the way only Harper can,” Max said.

“Of course that’s what I’m saying,” Harper said as she began to shred cheese. “Did I just turn into your commis chef without realizing it?” she asked Amanda, who just shrugged.

“She has us both wrapped around her little finger,” Max said.

My mother would have said the same about me.

“Just grate enough for the topping,” Amanda said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harper replied, then turned back to Grace. “Look, what I’m trying to say is you are one of the kindest, sweetest, most generous and loyal people in the world . . . and I don’t think the men you’ve dated so far have come close to deserving you.”

“I’m so happy we’re talking about this in front of Sam. I really am,” Grace said, and although she was smiling, her tight jaw told me she was uncomfortable. I stroked my thumb across her wrist wanting to calm her.

“It’s nothing I didn’t already know,” I said.

“So you approve of Sam?” Amanda asked Harper. “You think he deserves Grace?”

I was sure I didn’t.

“So far, so good,” Harper said.

“Don’t take that personally, Sam. She says the same thing about me,” Max said as he moved off the stool and kissed Harper on the head as he made his way to the fridge.

“How can you tell?” Amanda said.

“Tell what?” Harper asked.

“That he deserves Grace,” Amanda replied.

“Well, from what Grace tells me—and from what I see.” Harper glanced at me as she handed a plate of shredded cheese to Amanda. “He’s thoughtful and caring and makes her laugh.”

Grace smiled and turned her head toward me. I raised my eyebrows. Did I do all that?

“Remember, you have to judge men on what they do, and not just what they say,” Harper said.

“Amanda doesn’t need dating advice, but thank you, my sweet,” Max replied.

“I wish someone had given me that advice sooner,” Harper said. “No, that’s not what I mean. I wish I’d followed that advice sooner.”

“I think things worked out just about perfectly,” Max said, grabbing Harper.

Amber started screaming from the living room and Harper pulled out of Max’s arms.

“Drink your wine,” Max said. “I’ll get this. She’s getting tired and needs to have a bath.”

“And that is why I married the guy,” Harper said. “He’s a total DILF.”

“Harper!” Amanda shouted.

Harper just shrugged and Amanda rolled her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked me under her breath.

I nodded and smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear, allowing my finger to continue across her jaw.

I looked up to find Amanda watching us.

“Are you going to marry Sam?” Amanda asked, looking at Grace. Even though her question wasn’t directed at me, it caught me off guard.

Grace laughed. “Maybe.”

“Why only maybe?” Amanda asked.

Loving Grace hadn’t been a choice, but marriage? I hadn’t thought about it. Ever. Marriage was for other people, people who’d had a normal life. People who knew how to be a husband, a father—people who knew how to love.

“Amanda, you shouldn’t ask people such personal questions,” Max said.

“Why not? It’s just Grace. She asks me much more personal questions.”

I curled my hand around the edge of the countertop, hanging on to I didn’t know what. I needed something solid—something to be sure of. The ache for something that had gone before grew and grew.

I tried to refocus on the conversation around me.