muscles relaxed as Gracie’s seemed to tighten. That was the girl he knew, the one who bunched under pressure but held her own with a grace that still knocked his breath away. He fought the grin on his lips.
“Sometimes we play the radio for them. They seem to enjoy it but prefer speaking to each other instead.” Gracie licked her lips and turned toward the other side of the crowd, effectively dismissing him. “I’m afraid that’s all the questions we have time for today. Thanks for coming, and enjoy the rest of your visit.”
He’d pushed too far.
The families slowly began to disperse, but Carter remained fixed against the wall, his legs unable to move and his heart unwilling to let them. He had to see her, talk to her again. But what would he say? Sorry for the last seven years of silence? Sorry for that night on the pier that ruined a lifetime of friendship? Nothing seemed sufficient, nothing seemed capable of quelling that distrust in her eyes or the rigid body language that all but screamed get away from me.
She’d never believe the truth even if he told her.
And why would she? Disloyalty was all she knew from him, all he’d ever bothered to show. Regret coated his stomach and Carter blinked against the emotion rising in his throat. Seeing Gracie after all this time rendered him somewhat senseless. He was a changed man now—though it was maybe a little too late to do any good.
Gracie strode out of the aquarium, shoving her hair back with both hands and closing her eyes briefly before disappearing from sight. Yep, she had a headache. He knew it as surely as he knew her favorite color was blue and her favorite song was “Over the Rainbow.” She hurt because of him—and not for the first time.
Hindsight offered startling new clarity. If he hadn’t been such a fool, things could have been so different. Carter rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to hold back the torrent of memories demanding release. Not now, not here. He’d wait until he was back with his old college buddy Andy, maybe sprawled in front of the TV with a Dr. Pepper and some popcorn before he’d vent. Maybe Andy would have more words of wisdom to share, some advice to remind him he wasn’t the bad guy anymore.
Then maybe that look in Gracie’s eyes would stop tormenting his heart.
Gracie braced her elbows on the glass display case at the front of the gift shop and buried her face in her hands, drawing in a slow, deep breath. The aquarium was closed, yet Carter’s presence continued to throb like a sore wound. How dare he show up after so long and invade her workplace? His father had contributed large donations to the aquarium for nearly a decade, yet Carter picked today to pop in? He could have found out where she was years ago if he hadn’t turned his back on his family, as well as her. The last few years of his silence had been punishment enough—she didn’t need this jolt of surprise now.
She raised her head and looked across the counter at Lori Perkins, her best friend and manager of the gift shop. “I need more coffee.”
“Here.” Lori shoved a foam cup across the counter. “I just got a cappuccino before I locked up. You need it more than me.”
“Thanks.” Gracie propped on one elbow and took a sip of the warm liquid. Much better—though her head still ached behind her right eye.
“I can’t believe I missed seeing him.” Lori swung her long brown hair over her shoulder and hunched down to mimic Gracie’s pose on the counter. “Is he as cute as he was on his last CD cover?” She winked.
“That’s not the point.” Gracie grabbed a pencil from the display beside the cash register and twirled it through her fingers. Anything to avoid eye contact and Lori’s I-dare-you-to-try-and-keep-a-secret-from-me gaze. They’d shared coffee and more than their share of confidences over the past year as roommates, but this was different.
This was a broken fragment of her heart.
Lori plucked the pencil from Gracie’s grasp and stuck it back in the case. “Okay, so we know he’s probably still a looker. The awful ones usually are.”
“There was something different about him.” She squinted, trying to recall the specifics of the memory. “Something in his eyes.”
“Maybe he’s sorry for the past and came to apologize.” Lori grabbed a dust cloth from under the counter. “Sometimes regret changes a man, rare as it might be.” She grinned and went to work cleaning the inside of the glass.
Gracie stepped away from the counter to give her room. “But he couldn’t have known I was here. We haven’t talked in seven years.”
“He couldn’t have contacted your mother? I thought you said your families were close once upon a time.” Lori sprayed cleaner over the top of the case and rubbed. “I’m sure there were ways if he was determined.”
“What if he’s here for something else, something that has nothing to do with me at all?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Lori set the bottle on the counter and tilted her head to one side. “To be left alone?”
No. Yes. Gracie shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Girl, you’ve got it bad, even after all this time.” Lori shook her head and resumed her cleaning.
A familiar ache started in the base of Gracie’s stomach until it filled her insides with a heavy layer of regret. “Even if I do, it doesn’t matter.” She looked away, the ache doubling in intensity. “It never did before.”
“What do you mean?” Lori paused, holding the rag inches above the countertop.
“Carter was my fairy tale, never my reality.” Gracie picked up a stuffed penguin dressed in a tuxedo and squeezed. “He was just this dream I had until I grew up.” She snorted. Dream, misunderstanding, mistake—same difference.
“So what happened?”
Gracie set the penguin down and sadly adjusted its little black bow tie. “I realized some toads never turn into princes.”
Chapter Two
Carter flopped down on the sofa and propped booted feet on the coffee table. His friend and college roommate, Andy Stewart, handed him a Dr. Pepper before claiming the La-Z-Boy. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Carter opened the can and took a quick sip, the fizz bubbling in his throat on the way down.
“So what’s up, man? You that nervous about performing for the kids?” Andy jacked the handle on the recliner, and the footrest popped into place.
“Not really. Your youth group at L’Eglise de Grace can’t be worse than the crowds I’ve played before.” Carter shook his head with a grin. “And if they are, we have a whole new problem on our hands, Pastor.”
Andy laughed. “Hey, I’ve done what I can with them. But they’re still teenagers—so no promises.”
“Hopefully they won’t throw rotten vegetables.”
Dr. Pepper spewed from Andy’s lips. He sat up straight and wiped his chin with his hand. “People have actually done that?”
“Well, not veggies. But a drunk guy threw a shoe once.”
“No
