Page 34 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

“You’re a really lucky guy, Josh,” I say as we turn onto a now-quiet Pisgah Highway on the way back downtown. My arm is hanging out the truck window, feeling the cool night air. “Your friends are amazing.”

He smiles and leans his head firmly against the headrest, turning slightly to make eye contact. “From what you’ve told me over the last few weeks, you have some great people in your life, too.”

It’s true. During the past year I’ve seen just how much people love me and want to see me happy again. Friends have let me cry ugly tears with them, and friends have made me laugh in ways I thought I’d never be able to again. Still…

“I do, I do. It’s just that most of those people have known you your entire life.

They all know you on, like, a cellular level.

And while I’m sure there are times it’s annoying how well they know you, it’s really beautiful.

” I take a moment before continuing because I’m thinking out loud, and it’s surprising how much I’m letting my emotions show.

“I have great friends, but because Ben and I moved around a lot until we landed in Chapel Hill, a lot of my friends are, I guess, ‘moment in time’ friends. My high school friends know me one way, my college friends another, my Chicago friends another, and so on. My best friend, Jenny, is the only person who knows me like they all know you. The love y’all have for each other is so real and organic, and it’s got me in my feelings a little bit. ”

Josh laughs softly and I do, too. “Look at you, letting the feelings flow,” he teases.

Maybe I’m changing , I think but don’t say out loud.

Maybe Dr. Lisa is on to something. Maybe I am like a superhero who has experienced a canon event—something that fundamentally changes you in a way that can’t be undone.

It’s clear in my writing, my interactions with readers, and especially my conversations with Josh that I’m different.

Over the last month in Canopy, something has changed. And that change feels lasting and good.

We drive in silence for a few minutes as I turn over in my mind the thought of telling Josh that I have feelings for him.

I want to tell him that I feel happier when I’m with him than I have in a long time.

That I look forward to him showing up every day.

That he has grown to know me in ways that are new and exciting.

I want to tell him all of this before anyone or anything can get in the way.

We turn onto Wilson Street, and I look at him. There’s an ache to let him know how I feel, but the risk feels so big. He is the reason my writing is flowing and my heart feels so open. I could ruin it all by saying the wrong thing.

He slips into the driveway and puts the truck in park. “You were thinking some deep thoughts over those last few miles,” he says.

It’s now or never—that much I know. If I let this moment pass, I may not work up the courage again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Is this about the fact that I have ten godchildren? It’s wild—trust me, I know.”

An honest giggle emerges and lightens the pressure a tiny bit. “Actually, no, but let’s put a pin in that and come back to it next time you’re here.”

Deep breath. “This is from left field, but…” I pause, trying to work up the courage to continue. He puts his arm over the steering wheel and fully turns toward me. “Is there a reason this—you and me—hasn’t turned into something more?”

He looks stunned. Unprepared, even. He runs a hand through his hair and purses his lips. Suddenly he can’t look me in the eyes, and I realize what’s about to happen. The energy in this truck has shifted.

“Um, I guess I just never really thought about it because I was doing the work at the house and then we became friends and had this vibe that was really easy and cool and you seem to be in a good place with everything and it’s like why mess with a good thing that’s working for us both?

” he rambles, taking no breaths to deliver a healthy portion of word soup.

I think this must be what people mean when they complain about being put in the “friend zone.” I silently thank Jesus that I never had to experience this as an emotionally unformed teenager or twentysomething.

At least now I have the coping skills to deal with it.

You lose your husband, and suddenly all other disappointments feel inconsequential.

I got the answer that I needed without putting my heart too far out on the line.

Not exactly the homework that Dr. Lisa assigned but close enough for me.

I have been emotionally brave in a completely safe way.

Things will be awkward for a few days around the house, but it will all be fine.

We survived the great Cosmo debacle; we can handle this.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I was just curious,” I say as cool as possible, careful not to raise the intonation in my voice at the end and give away that I was definitely more than curious. I open the truck door and hop out. I turn to look at him, thank him for the ride, and close the door.

I’m on the first step to the porch when I hear the truck door open and shut quickly as Josh gets out.

I immediately turn and see him walking the path toward me.

Just before I can get a word out, he says in a mildly raised and firm voice, “Why did you ask me that?” I guess I won’t get away clean, after all.

“Josh, I’m sorry. I made it weird, and I shouldn’t have asked that. That drink clearly got to me and—”

He cuts me off, moving a few steps closer. “Gracie, why did you ask me that?”

“Josh, isn’t it obvious?” I respond with a calm, forced smile and then turn back toward the house and begin to climb the porch stairs.

I can’t face him again or my heart will explode.

Except, as I take my first step, I hear the gravel crunch on the ground behind me.

Before I can turn my head, I feel his hand firmly grab mine.

The next thing I know, he’s on the first step next to me and, instinctively, we rotate to face one another.

Before my brain is able to fully process what’s happening, his lips are pressed to mine.

His right hand caresses the side of my face while his left hand slides behind my back to pull me close.

This exact scenario has played out in my mind constantly for the last couple of weeks, and now that it’s here, I seem to be without the ability to do anything but be fully in the moment.

I press a hand lightly to his chest and hear him take a deep breath as he momentarily stops kissing me. He angles his forehead down to mine and says softly, “I’ve been thinking about this since the first moment I saw you.”

I remember the bright, brief glint in his eyes when we first met the day the kids and I arrived in Canopy.

I remember the moment of undeniable tension when I walked in unexpectedly the day the AC was broken.

And I remember how he looked when he saw me arrive at the bar tonight.

It hasn’t all been in my head. His feelings have been here with us all along.

Now I’m the one pulling him to me, with more intensity. Our hands are beginning to wander out here in the glow of the streetlight and in full view of cars driving by. I have never felt anticipation like this before. I whisper a new question—just two words—in the millisecond my mouth is free.

“Come inside?” He nods without hesitation, and when we pull apart to continue up the steps to the front door, we lock eyes. I feel seen and wanted and known.

—

We are barely inside the house when Josh presses me up against the wall next to the entrance. His arm reaches across to lock the door, and something about that action—about being safely inside—causes us both to fully give in to our feelings.

It becomes immediately apparent that Josh told the truth about imagining this moment many times over, because every action, every movement, is too perfect to be created on the spot without planning.

When his hand slides under my dress and up my inner thigh, I can’t control my breath. I take a deep inhale and open my eyes to find him looking at me.

“Is this real?” he asks in a way that is so achingly tender and honest that my knees buckle ever so slightly.

“Yes,” I reply in a soft whisper—to answer the question and as a way to give permission for his hand to continue rising.

I gathered from our interviews that intimacy hasn’t been a part of Josh’s life for at least a year, but he is definitely not rusty.

He explores me while he pushes my head to the side and kisses my neck.

I feel an intensity that I’ve missed and it makes me realize just how badly I want this to happen.

Nothing over the past year has felt like this.

Every hard date, every underwhelming and confusing night has led me to this moment right now.

No one has truly known me when I invited them to my bed, and I have never let a man know me after.

I have spent the year moving between feelings of pain and confusion, heartbreak and longing.

In this moment, however, all I can feel is a sense of what is right and real and meant to be.

It doesn’t take long for my breath to quicken and moans to escape as a wave rocks my entire body. I say his name quietly into his ear as I come undone. Before I can fully return to my senses, he picks me up, wraps my legs around his back, and walks me down the hallway to the guest room.