Falling for Grace

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “We’ll have to fix that. It’s a science fiction classic, Grace. Bladerunner’s one of my favourite movies. I check in under Rick Deckard sometimes to at least try to retain some degree of anonymity. Plus, he’s pretty cool.”

  I chuckle. “And you quite fancy yourself as him? Hunting down the bad guys?”

  He grins. “So what if I do?”

  “You’re a total sci fi geek.”

  “Busted.” He smiles. “It started with Dr Who and took off from there. I watch the movies, read the books. It’s my thing, I guess.”

  I lean in and kiss him.

  “What’s that for?” he asks, grinning.

  “I totally love that you’re a geek.” I shrug, “Because I’m one too. Not science fiction, of course.”

  “No, really?” he mocks.

  We look into one another’s eyes as a warm glow spreads through my body.

  I let out a sigh. “I can’t believe we have to leave today. It’s been so amazing being here with you.”

  He takes my hand and places it on his chest, over his heart. “You’re an incredible woman, Grace. I’m so glad I met you.”

  I blush. After all we’ve done and said over this weekend, he can still make me feel like a teenage girl.

  Still holding my hand over his heart, he says, “Grace, I… I don’t want this to end.”

  My heart rate kicks up. “Me neither,” I reply, breathless.

  A smile spreads across his face. “Let’s make it work, okay? I can come here, you can come to LA. Whatever it takes.”

  My heart feels ready to burst. “Yes. Hell, yes.”

  We lie in the bed facing one another, neither of us able to stop grinning.

  “What time do we have to go?” he asks.

  Sam has to fly to Australia later in the afternoon. “It’s a four hour trip back to Wellington, so I guess we’ve got an hour, two hours tops.”

  His eyes twinkle, darkening. “So, we have time for this?”

  He slips his hand under the covers and finds my belly, making me jump. My body quivers as he slowly inches his hand down further, further, finally reaching his target. He lets out a husky groan as he finds me ready for him.

  We make love. It’s slow, sensual, both of us knowing it will be the last time we can be together for a while.

  Afterwards, still quivering, I hold his face and kiss him, savouring his taste, his luscious smell.

  “I love you, Sam,” I whisper before I have the chance to stop myself.

  Everything stops as he looks into my eyes for a beat. Two.

  I begin to squirm. God, what have I done? One sex-soaked weekend with the guy and I’m professing love for him? Love? What kind of idiot am I?

  My thoughts zap around my head. Is there a chance he didn’t hear me? I did whisper it, after all. And if he did hear it, could he simply disregard it as pillow talk? The kind of thing you say in the heat of the moment and don’t actually mean?

  But I do mean it. Oh, I do so mean it.

  He’s still looking at me.

  Say something! Anything! Please! For the love of God, man!

  “I love you too.” His handsome face breaks into a smile, his eyes crinkling around the edges.

  Relief floods through me. He loves me? Sam Montgomery loves me. Loves me.

  Barely believing it I ask, “You do?”

  “Hell, yes. I knew from the moment we met you were different, special. That’s why I came to find you after you fell off the catwalk. I felt this inexplicable urge to see you again.”

  “I thought you were just being a nice guy.”

  “Well, I’m that too, of course.” He laughs. “But it was mainly because I’d had this incredibly hot, topless chick fall from Heaven into my arms.”

  I mock-hit his arm.

  He shrugs. “Seriously though, I knew you were different. Don’t ask me how.”

  I kiss him on the lips, sliding my body over to him. I never want to leave this place. I want to be wrapped up in this wonderful cacoon, protected from the outside world, alone here with Sam, the man I love.

  Chapter 19

  ALL TOO SOON, I’M back in my bedroom, unpacking my suitcase, still hardly believing the events of the last few days.

  Sam loves me. He loves me.

  A smile spreads across my face as my heart squeezes in my chest. Gone are the almost constant butterflies in my belly, the nerves about Sam being famous, Sam living in another country—all replaced by the most wonderful sense of calm.

  I knock on Tiffany’s door. She texted me when I was at the beach to say everything was under control. Now, I want details.

  She opens her door, an instant smile as she sees me. “Hey, Grace. How are you? You look amazing.”

  “Err, thanks.” I blush tomato red.

  “You’re blushing? That good, huh?”

  I nod, barely suppressing a smile. “That good.”

  “Okay, sit down and tell me all about it. I’m getting ready to go out.”

  I plonk myself down on her bed, breathing in the heady mix of scented candles and perfume.

  “So, tell me. Where did you go?”

  “Waimarama Beach. It was… perfect.”

  There really is no other word for it.

  “Judging by your glow there was sex. And lots of it.”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  She laughs. “You can’t play coy with me, babe. Any woman would have to be out of her mind to go away with Sam Montgomery and not get naked with him.”

  “I’m not saying a word.” I change the subject. “Tell me what happened with the paparazzi.”

  She whips off her dressing gown and slips on a form-fitting dress. “I held my press conference—”

  I laugh, interrupting her. “That’s a bit grandiose, isn’t it?”

  “Well, that’s what it was. Anyway, I held my press conference at the park down the street. I told them you were a lovely Kiwi girl who would never do anything to break up a happy relationship. Which is true, right? It’s not a happy relationship.”

  I nod. “I guess technically you’re correct.”

  She continues. “I said you had confided in me, as your closest friend, that although you have feelings for Sam, you’ve backed off to let him work things out with Vanessa.”

  Things click into place. “And that was when Vanessa was quoted saying she was doing a Tammy Wynette,” I add.

  “A Tammy what?”

  “Tammy Wynette. Stand by your man? My mother’s favourite song. She used to sing it to me when I was a kid. ‘An oldie but a goodie’, she used to say.”

  Still nothing.

  I shake my head at me. “Too retro?” I ask.

  “Way too retro.”

  “I’ll work on my pop culture references.”

  “Good plan, babe. You totally need to.” She peers in her mirror, applying her ruby red lipstick.

  “Thanks for doing that for me, by the way. You saved my skin.”

  She fluffs up her hair and turns to face me.

  “How do I look?”

  “Hot. And you know it. Where are you and Scott heading?” Suddenly fearing it might be some weird sex thing, I add, “Or don’t I want to know?”

  She leans down and slips on her heels.

  “Oh, it’s not Scott,” she replies, her tone casual.

  “It’s not?” I ask in surprise.

  She turns back to face me, looking uncertain, vulnerable, somehow younger than her twenty-five years.

  “Who is it then?”

  “It’s… ah… Rangi.” She grins, unable to contain her happiness.

  “What happened to Scott?”

  She shrugs. “It got old. Sure, the sex was amazing, but we didn’t really have a whole lot to talk about afterwards. He’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”

  “Ah, no.” I recall how Brooke was always making allowances for him while she dated him, saying he had a ‘different type of intelligence’—one that clearly hasn’t been discovered yet.


  “So, Rangi?” I lead, suppressing a grin.

  “I guess we’ve realised something.” She comes and sits next to me, her face glowing as tears well in her eyes. “He loves me, Grace. And I think I love him.”

  “Oh!” I pull her in for a hug. “That’s wonderful news. See? I always said you two were made for each other. I’m so happy for you both.”

  “We’ve decided to take it slow, you know, date. See where things go.”

  “So, you’re an old-fashioned kind of girl after all.”

  “I guess. For the right guy.” She grins. “He’s worth it. I’ve been a bit of an idiot, running all over town with all those men when the right guy was under my nose all along.”

  “I’m so happy for you, Tiff.”

  “Thanks. I kind of am, too. I always joked Rangi couldn’t do better than me. It turns out I was right.”

  I laugh. Tiffany may be a saner version of herself now—and I thank the sweet Lord for that—but she’s still a total queen of the narcissists.

  “You know, I never knew I could feel like this.”

  My mind instantly darts to Sam. “Yes. I know exactly what you mean.”

  And it has to be the best feeling in the world.

  * * *

  I slip out the back of my apartment block, avoiding the journalist hanging around the front door once more. I smile to myself. This really is too easy. If I were this guy’s boss I’d be asking some serious questions. He could definitely learn a thing or two from Savannah in the stalking stakes.

  I walk the handful of blocks to the café I’m meeting Savannah at today. It had taken me some serious persuading to get her to meet me after she found out I had lied to her about Sam. I’m determined to arrive early and be thoroughly composed once she arrives, my speech locked and loaded, ready to win her over.

  I stand up to greet her as she walks into the central city café.

  Today is the first time I’ve seen her in a colour other than stalker black and I immediately notice how pretty she looks in a feminine blue dress, her pale blonde hair loose around her shoulders.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me, Savannah,” I gush when she arrives at the table.

  She shrugs. “Sure.” She doesn’t smile.

  Despite the lack of encouragement, I smile at her, hoping to loosen her up a bit. “Would you like a coffee?”

  “No, I’m good.” She sits down at the table. I follow suit.

  I take a deep breath. “I need to say how sorry I am I wasn’t entirely honest with you.”

  She snorts.

  Undeterred, I continue. “I didn’t want to lie: I had to. I really hope you can understand.”

  “Understand what? That you swore black and blue you weren’t dating Sam Montgomery? You said that already.”

  I sigh. “I know what I said and I’m so sorry. I wasn’t honest with you and that was wrong.”

  Her face softens. A little. “Are you going to tell the truth today?”

  “I am.”

  She leans back in her chair, levelling me with her gaze. “Shoot.”

  I relay the story of Sam’s and my relationship, explaining why we had to keep it secret. I ask for her discretion now. By the time I’ve finished she’s leaning in, hanging on my every word, her body language open.

  “I had no idea. That sucks. Well, the part about having to sneak around while the world thinks he’s still with Vanessa. Not the sleeping with Sam Montgomery part.”

  I laugh, blushing. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with him.”

  She rolls her eyes, grinning. “I may be your little sister by three months, Grace, but I’m not stupid! Of course, you slept with him!”

  “No comment,” I reply, an uncontrollable grin spreading across my face.

  She leans back in her seat. “Doesn’t it make you feel kind of crap, though?”

  I think of Sam and my heart warms. The very last thing he makes me feel is crap. “No, not at all. He’s great.”

  “I don’t know you very well, but you do seem like a straight up kind of person to me. Don’t you find this whole sneaking around, pretending you don’t exist hard? I know I would.”

  I shrug, push that small voice in my head that’s agreeing with Savannah far, far away. “It’s fine. It’s how it must be. It won’t last too much longer, anyway, and then we can come out to the world.”

  She studies my face for a moment. “I hope so. For your sake, Grace.”

  * * *

  As I sit at the familiar kitchen table I find it hard to concentrate on what Mum’s talking about. Ever since I met Savannah I’ve wanted to tell Mum about her, although doing so makes me feel both utterly terrified and ecstatic in equal parts.

  Now that I’ve resolved today is the day my throat is dry, my palms are not, and my tummy’s in those Boy Scout knots again. All in all, I need to get this over with so I don’t do any permanent damage to my health.

  I watch her as she chats away to me, looking like she doesn’t have a care in the world. How will she take it? How will she feel on learning that there’s this other person, someone who she doesn’t know exists, who is now part of our family? Someone I share genetic code with, no less. Not only that—as if that wasn’t life altering in itself—there’s the fact her husband cheated on her while she was pregnant with me.

  It’s definitely doing my head in.

  “. . . topped with a medley of toasted nuts . . .. Grace? Are you listening to me?”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” I shake my head, embarrassed.

  “It looks to me like your mind is on other things.” She takes a sip of her green tea. My mother has worshipped at the shrine of the great antioxidant since her cancer diagnosis, green tea now replacing any other form of hot drink in the household. I hate the stuff, but suffer through it for my mum.

  “Ah, you could say that, yes.”

  “Oh?”

  I take a steadying breath, bite my lip. Just spit it out, Grace.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  She regards me questioningly. “You look serious, honey. Have you broken up with Sam?”

  “No, no. Sam and I are fine.” A smile spreads across my face. “We’re great, actually.”

  She smiles back at me. “What is it then?”

  I clench my fists. “I . . . met someone called Savannah.”

  I study her face for a glimmer of recognition—anything.

  “That’s a pretty name. You know you were almost called Savannah. Your father’s choice.”

  Oh, God. Give me strength.

  “So, who’s this Savannah you’ve met?”

  “Mum, promise me you won’t freak out, okay?”

  She tilts her head to the side, her brow knitted. “Why? What am I not supposed to freak out about?”

  I look pleadingly at her. “Promise me.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Okay then. I promise.”

  I steal myself. “All right. Savannah is my father’s daughter.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know he had a daughter, just the two boys. Well, that’s quite something. A new daughter. I wonder why he didn’t tell me about her?”

  “She’s not part of that family.” I hold my breath, bite my lip as I study her face for a reaction.

  She looks at me for a moment. “You’re saying—?”

  I nod. “He had an affair.”

  “Ah. That certainly sounds like Mike.” She shoots me a rueful smile.

  As I study her face I think I detect a fleeting glint of sadness in her eyes.

  Her face changes as a fresh thought occurs to her. “You have another sister! And you’ve met her. Oh, Grace. How wonderful.”

  Trust my mother to see the positive side of things.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. She’s nice.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “She . . . ah.” I pause, not wanting to tell Mum Savannah stalked me. “She tracked me down after that disastrous TV show I was on.”

&
nbsp; “Oh. Well, it was on national television,” she reasons.

  “The thing is, though, Savannah’s actually . . . my age.” I hold my breath, waiting for the proverbial penny to drop.

  “Your age?” She pauses. I can almost hear her brain whirring with the calculations. “That would mean—”

  I nod.

  She sits back in her seat, the colour draining out of her face. “Oh, my.”

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is about as close as my mother will ever get to a swear word.

  She’s quiet for some time, deep in thought.

  Concerned, I ask, “How are you doing? I . . . didn’t take it so well to start with myself.”

  She purses her lips, looks at me. “Actually, I’m not exactly surprised.”

  Taken aback, I remark, “You’re not? I thought you’d want to wring his neck.” I know I do.

  “No.” She pauses, puts her hand on her chest. “I’m past that. We broke up so long ago, honey, when you were only two. I’m more disappointed than anything. In your father.”

  I nod. “I bet.” I reach across the table and take her hand.

  She smiles appreciatively at me. “Her mother would have to be that woman from work, Angela Something-or-Other. He had a thing for her.”

  “Yolanda. Her name is Yolanda Murray,” I confirm.

  “Yolanda Murray. Well, what do you know?”

  “So, you thought he might have had an affair?”

  She nods, looking grim. “He was always, shall we say, affectionate with other women.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to think about him in that way.

  “You didn’t know about Savannah though, right?”

  “Heavens, no,” she exclaims. “I mean it doesn’t surprise me Mike had another woman at the time. He often disappeared off at odd hours of the day and night. He always said it was for work but, really, I ask you, what could a finance manager need to do at three in the morning? No, no. I’m not surprised.”

  She gazes out of the kitchen window, clearly lost in her thoughts.

  “Mum do you think you would like to meet her? Only, she would like to.” I think back to our conversation in the café. After we moved on from talking about Sam Savannah had told me she wanted to meet my mum.

  “She does?” Mum looks surprised.