Hadley & Grace(54)

Finally, giving up, she walks onto the balcony, where she finds Hadley smoking and gazing toward the silhouetted mountains in the distance. The night is cool, and Grace shivers but doesn’t return inside for her sweatshirt.

“This the insomniacs’ meeting place?” Grace asks.

Hadley scoots sideways to make room, and Grace leans on the railing beside her.

In front of them, old-growth firs reach for the bruised midnight sky, creating black sawtooth shadows against the star-studded night. Shoulder to shoulder they look out at the expanse, the soft rustling of the wind through the trees the only sound.

“Rocking the Walmart blue-light special,” Grace says, taking in Hadley’s outfit of black velour sweats, blue running shoes, and a cheetah-print blouse.

“I feel like Peggy Bundy. Really? Animal print and velour?” Hadley says.

Grace shrugs and smirks. She might have accidentally purposely bought the ugliest outfit she could find when picking out a change of clothes for Hadley this morning. Though somehow the woman still looks great. Grace swears Hadley could wear a garbage bag and she would start a fashion trend, suddenly everyone sporting Glad or Hefty to red-carpet events. She’s just one of those women—the kind who, if you leave her alone with a captive FBI agent who’s trying to arrest her, will still manage to seduce him.

“I can’t believe you slept with him,” Grace says.

“Me either.” And even in the thin light, Grace sees her blush.

“You don’t need to gloat about it,” Grace says.

“I’m not gloating.”

“You are. You’re gloating all over the place. You’re completely covered in gloat.”

Hadley’s blush deepens, making Grace want to throw her off the balcony. She wants to be gloating. She wishes very badly that Jimmy were here so she, too, could be covered in gloat.

Hadley lifts the cigarette to her lips, the end glowing as she inhales; then she tips her head back and releases the smoke into the air, watching as the feathery gauze drifts away, a smile curling her lips.

“Wow,” Grace says. “I knew you slept with him, but I didn’t know you actually liked him.”

Hadley brings her face down quickly. “I don’t. I wasn’t . . .” She looks away, the words trailing off, and Grace feels bad for teasing her, because it’s obvious Hadley really does like him, which makes what happened between them less romantic than tragic. He is an FBI agent. She is a fugitive. Best-case scenario is they never see each other again.

Grace looks back at the mountain scene, watching the night clouds drift across the moon.

“Where’s your husband?” Hadley says.

“Afghanistan.”

“Army?”

Grace nods.

A moment of hesitation, but Grace knows it won’t last. Hadley can’t help herself. She’s a yapper and a nosybody. She braces for the question as Hadley blurts it out: “So, why’d you leave? Is he a jerk?”

Grace takes a deep inhale of the cool air, then slowly lets it out. “Nope. Jimmy’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.”

She can see Hadley looking for more of an explanation, but Grace doesn’t offer one. She doesn’t believe in talking bad about the people you love.

“That’s not fair,” Hadley says with a pout. “You know everything about me.”

“That’s because you like to blab.”

Hadley sneers.

“Fine,” Grace says. “The short version is Jimmy likes to gamble. It ruined us twice, and the last time, I told him if it happened again, it was over.” Her voice sounds matter of fact until the last word, and she needs to work very hard not to show how much the confession hurts, and she is surprised how much saying the words out loud affects her—like pulling the top off a soda pop that’s been shaken. Though all she’s stated was the simple truth, it feels like a huge expulsion of all the hurt and shame that’s been bottled up inside her for years.

Hadley’s green eyes grow soft with sympathy, and Grace grows uncomfortable. She’s never liked pity.

Hadley looks away, and for a long moment they’re silent, until finally Hadley says, “You ever think how different it would be if men were the ones to have the children? Like penguins, reliant on their women to return to the nest to feed them, bring home the bacon or the fish or whatever it is penguins eat, even long after they’re no longer the hottest penguin on the beach?”

“Iceberg.”

“Iceberg?”

“If they were penguins, they would be on an iceberg,” Grace says.

Hadley frowns at her, and Grace shrugs. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be a beach. It would be an iceberg.”

“Wow, Jimmy really must be the nicest guy in the world.”

Grace sticks her tongue out at her, and Hadley flips her off. It’s all very adolescent, and Grace feels a sudden lightening in her chest, the sensation distinctly uncomfortable, familiar yet far away, the vague memory of a time before her grandmother got sick.

“You okay?” Hadley says.

Grace nods, her eyes blinking as her knuckles massage her sternum to clear it away.

“So, what happened today with you and the kids?” Hadley says. “You were gone a long time.”

Shrug.

“You’re not going to tell me? Skipper’s calling you Trout, the most revered name in baseball, and my daughter, who pretty much hates everyone, is following you around like a puppy and hanging on your every word. So what happened?”