Grady

The slamming door rattles the house and shakes me to my core. I close my eyes to the aching finality of it. She’s not the door-slamming type, but that’s how much I’ve hurt her. In a breath, I race through the living room, but only to see her disappear onto the main road, top-down, her lovely red hair flying behind her.

It’s too late. She shouldn’t give me another chance anyway. I busy myself in the kitchen, burying my emotions behind tasks.

But when I hear the front door reopen, I rush to meet her, desperate to wrap her in my arms and apologize until she tells me to stop.

Only it’s not her. I’m sucker-punched with sharp disappointment.

Mom and Elena stare me down critically until Mom says, “Grady, what’s happened?”

“Why are you here?” I demand instead, returning to the kitchen.

“We brought dessert,” Mom says, holding a covered casserole dish.

“And wine,” Elena offers, holding up a bottle.

“When Marigold said you were having a dinner party, we thought we’d swing by with a sweet treat to end the evening,” Mom says, setting her dish on the kitchen island.

I huff. “They told you?”

“Yep, and we couldn’t miss this disaster,” Elena laughs. “Where’s Marnie? Is she onto your ridiculous plan yet?”

“She’s gone.”

My mom and aunt share a concerned glance before Elena helps herself to wine glasses, and Mom unveils her pineapple cake. “Well, we’re here, so you might as well tell us what happened.”

Marigold and Gil enter from the porch with the dogs, graciously taking attention away from me.

“Where’s Marnie? I want to take her to the pier and put on my best moves,” Gil grins.

“Gone,” Mom chirps. “Your brother’s self-sabotage is complete.”

“Don’t blame her for leaving after the piano incident,” Gil explains everything Marina said and how upset she was.

“She’s so right about you, Grady,” Mom says.

“Now, she feels like that piano,” Elena tacks on.

“Look, the party’s over,” I decide, holding my hands up to usher them all to the door. “I don’t want to talk about it. You all need to go.”

“Grady, dessert!” Marigold orders, pointing at Mom’s cake. “You can’t leave a party without having dessert, remember?”

I sigh with resignation.“Yes, Marigold. You’re right. Please, have dessert. But the rest of you⁠—”

“Grady, you’re upset.” Mom rests her hand on my arm in an attempt to be soothing. “Maybe we can help, huh?”