My brain and my heart began to fight, and my body waited to see who would win.

His mouth sought me, nuzzled at my breast, and his wonderfully kind hands reached my bra, beginning to touch the skin underneath. I closed my eyes and felt his warm tongue touch me. My body reacted, and I arched underneath him. I heard him groan, and felt his lips encircle my breast. I opened my eyes and looked down to see his looking up at me.

His eyes were warm.

My body was cold.

His rich, cozy scent of wool and lemons was now too thick, too much, too there.

Lemons. Lemons. My lemon trees. Home.

Home is where your heart is. Where is your heart, Grace?

This was wrong. Grace and Michael lived perpetually back in college, what might have been. As lovely as this idea was, it was now all wrong.

I felt my eyes burning. My heart had won. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and all I could see was my sweet Jack—the pain in his eyes when I closed my heart to him.

“Michael, please,” I begged.

“Grace, I know, I know,” he whispered, kissing me intimately.

“No, Michael, I can’t. I just can’t,” I said, pulling him back up my body.

“Gracie, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up and caressing my face.

You are not his Gracie.

“Please don’t call me that,” I said, tears running freely now.

Horrified, he sat back on the side of the bed. I sat up, pulling my shirt back in place to cover myself.

Tears ran down my face as I tried to explain to my dear, sweet friend why this couldn’t happen. “Michael, I’m so sorry, but I just can’t,” I said, brushing his hair back from his face. He’d slipped his shirt back on, and now sat with me, arm around my shoulders. I’d wrapped myself tightly in a blanket.

“I knew this was too soon,” he said. “I should never have come up here. This was too soon after, well…” He rocked me back and forth.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Oh, Michael, I just adore you,” I cried, throwing my arms around him again. I felt safe, now that I’d stopped what this was about to become. I still had alarm bells going off in my head, but they were starting to quiet down.

“We just need to slow down. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

I stopped short. I needed to be clear. I couldn’t leave him behind as another casualty.

“No, Michael, I can’t do this. Ever,” I started, as he stared at me, blinking. “You’re too good a friend to me, but I think…I think our time has passed. Don’t you feel it? Doesn’t this feel too much like we’re trying too hard?” I begged him with my eyes, wanting him to see it, feel it too.

“Aw, Grace. You’re too crazy for me. What the hell?” he slumped back on the bed, covering his face with his arm.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I never meant to lead you on. This just isn’t—it isn’t right.”

This wasn’t about two old friends who should have. This was about two reinvented friends who should not.

He studied my face carefully, not speaking for several minutes. I blushed under his scrutinizing gaze.

Hurricane Grace: another victim.

Jeez, I’m an asshole…

“I really wish you could’ve figured this out before I was almost naked.” He grimaced, winking at me.

I threw back my head and laughed. That felt really good. “Is this okay? I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Grace, just don’t, okay? I’ll be fine. I’m not gonna say I’m not upset, but I’ll be fine. You need to get your shit figured out though. ‘Cuz damn, woman. You’re fucked up.”

We laughed for a few more minutes, and then after wiping the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of his fleece, he got up to leave. I followed him to the front door, my feet slapping across the wood floor.

He turned to me again, shrugging into his jacket and buttoning up. “Grace, for what it’s worth, I love you,” he said, his face serious, but kind.

“I know. I love you too. Friends?” I asked, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

“Of course friends, and I can still see your boobs, by the way,” he scoffed and opened the door.

I looked down to find my shirt in place and the blanket still wrapped firmly around me. He could not! I prepared to fire off a smart-ass remark, but the look on his face stopped me.

“’Night, Grace,” he said, and leaned in to kiss me softly.

I let him.

“’Night. See you tomorrow.”

He nodded and was gone.

I went back to my room, put on my white polo, and got into my now-unmade bed. I turned on the TV and watched the end of The Wizard of Oz. My favorite part has always been when Dorothy realizes she’s had the power all along. She can go home whenever she’s ready.

I cried myself to sleep.

***

The next day, we had rehearsal only in the morning, and we were finished by one. Michael and I seemed surprisingly okay. My thoughts about an uncomfortable repeat performance of our previous morning-after behavior were quickly put to rest when he asked me to grab a quick coffee before I could run away. I smiled and agreed, and we headed to a coffee shop around the corner.

“So, this is awkward, huh?” I asked, as we settled into a booth.

“It doesn’t have to be. So what if you ruined me last night and I had to lift a few cars on the way home? I’ll manage,” he teased, and I banged my head on the table.

“I really am sorry, Michael. Truly,” I managed, talking to the Formica tabletop.

“I know you are, Grace. But you could’ve at least given me a little hand action before you sent me on my way,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” I instructed. “You know, not for nothing, but I really did think you and I were going to end up together,” I admitted.

“I did too,” he answered thoughtfully.

“You and me in college together, now back in each other’s lives—I feel like it means something.” I said, my voice trailing off.

“It does. It just isn’t going to be the way I wanted it to be. But it’s good. We’re good.” He smiled and took a bite of his bagel.

I munched along with him.

“I have to ask, why the hell did you break up with that guy? What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” I said helplessly. “It was all me. I lost my shit and let my head take over. And your sister didn’t help matters either, planting all these seeds in my head about kids.”

He laughed.

“What? Why are you laughing?” I asked, kicking him in the shin.

“She says that to everyone! She thinks everyone should have kids. All women need children to be happy in her eyes. That doesn’t mean she knows what the hell she’s talking about, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, now you tell me. But really, she got me thinking. What if I do want kids someday? I can’t have them with a twenty-four year old. That’s ridiculous.” I laughed, an image springing to mind of Jack pushing a baby carriage.

Funny.

“Why not? Have you asked him?”

“No. Yes. I mean, I don’t know! We talked about it once, in a very random way, and he said he didn’t want kids—for sure he didn’t want kids. And I thought I didn’t either. I still don’t know, I just—Jesus this is a mess,” I said, shaking my head.

“So, you broke up with a guy you’re in love with because of kids you don’t even know you want, and you didn’t even tell him that? Wow, did I dodge a bullet last night.” He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Shut up, O’Connell!” I threatened, kicking him a little higher on the shin. He quickly moved his legs out of the line of fire, then looked at me seriously.

“Besides, Grace, no guy wants kids when he’s—how old did you say he is?”

“Twenty-four. He’s twenty-four.” I sighed.

“Grace, for the record, when I was twenty-four the last thing on my mind was having kids. If you’d asked me then, I would probably have said no way.” He sipped his coffee.

***

That afternoon, as I traipsed through the city on one of my walks, I thought about what Michael had said. I really never did explain things to Jack.