I hear her rummaging through a cabinet in the bathroom and mumbling to herself.
“Do you always do that?” I ask, amused, shutting off my phone.
“Do what?” she growls.
“Talk to yourself.”
She appears from the bathroom with a toiletry bag and shoves it on top of her black tote full of clothes.
She shrugs, unfazed. “I’ve always done it.”
“It’s cute,” I tell her. There are so many things she does that I find cute, including her wittiness and ability to banter, and also the way she purses her lips when she’s concentrating.
She rolls her eyes at me, and I let out a small laugh.
Walking over to her nightstand, she plucks her pack of birth control pills off the top, wiggling it in one hand before dropping them into her bag. “I’m ready,” she announces, reaching for the bag before I take it from her.
“Let me get this.”
She reluctantly hands over her bag, then grabs her purse and keys from the table before locking up. We make our way down the rickety old stairs and back out to the waiting car. Of course, even on a Saturday morning, Manhattan traffic is a bitch. It takes us almost an hour to get from Red Hook to the Upper West Side, where we meet my realtor. Gracie had her eyes glued out the window, taking in all of Manhattan on our way here.
My realtor is an older woman dressed in a red power suit. Her grey hair is stick straight and cut into a simple bob that hits at her jawline, and her makeup is heavy and overly done for her age. She looks every part the uppity New York City realtor I expected her to be.
“Mr. McPherson,” Janet, the realtor, greets me, reaching out to shake my hand. She looks at Gracie and offers a tight smile but doesn’t greet her. Strike one. “I got your email with your last-minute request.” She pauses and looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve got six places I’d like to show you today.”
She turns away from us and heads into the newly built fifty-story building we just parked in front of. I reach for Gracie’s hand and she settles into my side. Janet rambles off facts for the building and apartment. “There’s a gym, a pool, and a spa. This apartment has two bedrooms and three bathrooms.” She continues rattling off details as we take the elevator up to the twentieth-floor apartment. She unlocks the door, and when we walk into the open and bright space, I hear Grace gasp as she takes it all in.
Everything is new and modern and enormous compared to Gracie’s humble Red Hook apartment. The kitchen in this place alone is bigger than her entire apartment. The island is at least eight feet long. Janet points out the custom kitchen cabinets made from imported wood. Gracie runs her hand over the white marble counters, her pointer finger tracing the grey veins that run throughout the white stone.
We follow Janet through the condo while she points out the bedrooms, bathrooms, and a den. Janet likes to throw around all the realtor schtick—“vaulted, luxury, one-of-a-kind”—and I don’t give a shit about this. I just want something comfortable and homey. Something Gracie will feel comfortable in. “Two-point five is a steal for this—"
“What else do you have?” I ask Janet, cutting her off as she tries to convince me the two and a half million-dollar price tag is a good deal for this place. “Do you have anything a little less modern, something more comfortable with some outdoor space?”
Janet looks shocked, but quickly regains her composure as she pulls the iPad from her shoulder bag. She quickly scrolls through her listings as Gracie and I step back into the kitchen.
“What do you think?” I release her hand and she leans back against the kitchen island, resting her hands on the edge of the marble counter. I mimic her and rest my back against the island, our hips touching. I don’t like distance between us, but I allow it. For now.
“I think this is the nicest place I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes fall to the travertine floors. “I also think my opinion doesn’t matter. You’re going to be the one living here, not me.” I go to argue with her that her opinion does matter, but she continues before I have a chance, which is good, because I just met her and I don’t want to scare her. “But if you really want my thoughts, I think it’s pretentious and you’d fit in much better in Red Hook. Nineteen-fifties parquet wood floors are just more your style. Travertine is soooo overrated,” she drawls.
I see her fighting back a grin and I can’t help but laugh. Loudly. It’s been a long time since a woman has had this effect on me. Her sense of humor might be my favorite thing about her. “Red Hook, huh?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” she says, nudging me with her elbow. I turn to her and pull her into my arms. It’s intimate and close, natural. My hands travel up her sides and I pull her face into my hands. Her beautiful eyes meet mine and I search them…for what, I’m not sure.
“Your opinion matters to me,” I tell her softly.
“It shouldn’t. I’ve known you for what, forty hours?” Her eyes are vulnerable, guarded and I want to know what she’s thinking, but this isn’t the place to ask. The reality of her comment strikes me. It has only been a couple days, but it feels much longer. Our connection is undeniable, like I’ve known her forever. No woman has ever edged their way into my heart in a matter of hours, let alone days, weeks, or months.
“Mr. McPherson, I have a place in Chelsea I’d like to show you,” Janet interrupts our moment.
Gracie shrugs out of my hold and I turn to Janet, still feeling the sting of Gracie’s words.
I clear my throat and reach for her hand anyway. “Let’s go.”
Gracie rests her head on my shoulder the entire way to Chelsea. It’s not far, but again, Manhattan’s traffic is like no other cities. We finally pull up to a newer, but much smaller building and Janet once again meets us eagerly.
“Mr. McPherson,” she scrolls through her iPad, “this listing was built in twenty-ten, completely gutted and remodeled this year. This home is over thirty-four hundred square feet and has three bedrooms and four baths.” We walk into the main entrance and are greeted by a doorman, who calls the elevator for us.
“This unit is located on the ninth floor,” Janet adds.
“How many floors are there?” I ask, noticing that it wasn’t a very tall building.
“Nine.” She smiles at me, seemingly knowing that was the answer I was seeking.
We exit the elevator and walk down the sleek, modern hall to the unit marked P1. We’re greeted by a grand foyer with a large, modern chandelier made of wood and iron with large round globe light bulbs. The colors inside are neutral and warm, mostly whites and greys, and the beautiful large plank wood floors are impeccable.
Janet continues her sales spiel as we move from the foyer into the open concept living room and kitchen area. “You’ll notice off the large living room is a formal dining area,” she gestures toward the vast open space off the kitchen where another similar chandelier hangs over a long, sleek table, “and the kitchen is a chef’s kitchen with custom cabinets and a ten-foot island.”
Gracie releases my hand and ambles into the kitchen. I’ve noticed she’s drawn to kitchens and this one she likes. The kitchen cabinets are white with a dark grey island. The counters are white marble just like the other condo we visited. High end appliances complete the space, from the commercial-sized refrigerator to the gas cooktop and four wall-mounted ovens. Four. If Gracie thought the other condo was excessive, this is over the top.
Janet notices Gracie checking out the kitchen and turns her attention back to me. “All of the bedrooms are oversized and the master leads out to a private terrace that is also accessible through the sliding living room doors.” Janet points to the glass wall where two large glass doors open to a concrete terrace that is full of potted trees and plants.
Oversized plush outdoor furniture fills in the space and I notice a built-in barbeque and outdoor kitchen at the far end of the terrace.
“No inch was left untouched,” Janet tells me, overly pleased with herself.
I nod, keeping
my face blank. I don’t have much to say, though. My only concern is whether Gracie will feel comfortable here. I intend for her to spend all of her time with me outside of work.
“What is the price on this one?” I ask as I follow Janet down a hallway lined with doors. “Three-point nine-nine, but I expect multiple offers on this. They priced it low to get interest. This place is worth over four and a half. It went on the market yesterday.”
I glance over my shoulder to Gracie, who is still lingering in the kitchen, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “Gracie,” I call to her and she looks up and over to me. “Please join us.”
Janet lets out a soft sigh as I stop and wait for Gracie. Strike two.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, my tone laced with irritation.
Janet stands up tall, plastering on a fake smile. “Of course not.”
Gracie catches up to us and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her in as we follow Janet to the master bedroom.
Janet is quick to point out all the extraordinary features, including the high coffered ceilings, the doors to the terrace, the oversized luxury bath with soaker tub, and views of the Hudson River from the terrace.
Gracie once again releases my hand and, without a word, strolls across the bedroom to the oversized French doors, where she pushes through them and out onto the terrace. She seems to relax outside, her shoulders falling and her long hair whipping around her face in the wind. I love when her hair is down, and I notice a small smile tug at her lips as she tips her head back and up to the sky, where her eyes slip shut.
My heart leaps in my chest as I watch her, trying to tune out Janet’s grating voice. I notice the drops of water falling from the sky and that’s when Gracie spins slowly. She spreads her arms out as if summoning the rain herself, and I can’t fucking look away.
Everything about her mesmerizes me. The way she moves, graceful and with intent. The way she speaks, every word carrying meaningful decisiveness or laced with humor. But mostly, the way she looks at people, as if she can see into their soul. I’ve never noticed this about another woman, and I’m fascinated with how quickly I see all of this in Gracie.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I tell Janet, hoping it’ll shut her up. With three long strides, I’m across the bedroom and out the door, joining Gracie on the terrace.
Her eyes snap open when she hears the door close behind me, and her lips twist into a giant smile when she sees me walk over to her. Her face is sprinkled with rain drops and I pull her into a kiss. It’s passionate and needy and telling of something so much more than I can understand, let alone explain. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I lift her and spin slowly just like she had been spinning only moments before. She giggles against my lips and I slow us to a stop before I get dizzy.
“I like dancing in the rain with you,” she mumbles against my lips as the rain falls harder.
The rain soaks my hair and I brush the water from my eyes. “I like you, Gracie. I’ll dance with you anytime, anywhere.”
Eight
“Write up an offer. Four-point-five and a five-day close.” Janet’s eyes just about bulge out of her head at Drew’s request.
“Mr. McPherson, that’s all but impossible,” she starts before Drew cuts her off.
“Nothing is impossible, Janet. The place is vacant. There’ll be an additional three percent bonus for you if you make it happen.” I see Janet mentally doing the math and she nods. Drew continues, commanding, like he makes real estate deals every single day. “Open escrow today and I’ll have the funds wired first thing Monday morning. The rest is paperwork, Janet. Don’t tell me it can’t be done. Tell the seller I’ll be sending some people over tomorrow and they are to have full access to the unit for as long as they need.”
I hold back a grin as I watch Drew bark orders at Janet. I know she doesn’t like me, the way she looks down her nose at me and her disgusted looks speak volumes. She doesn’t believe I’m good enough for someone like Andrew McPherson. Maybe she’s right, or maybe she’s wrong, but it’s nice to see Drew putting her in her place.
She nods and taps frantically on her iPad.
“Anything else you need from me?” he asks, gripping my hand and all but dragging me out of the condo.
“No, I don’t—”
“Good. You have my number if you need anything else.” And with that, the door to the condo shuts behind us and Drew is pulling us to the elevator. He punches the down button at least ten times impatiently.
“Why are we in such a hurry?” I ask as the chime sounds and the elevator doors part.
“Because I don’t like the way Janet looks at you… dismisses you.” He pauses, a sympathetic look washing over his face. “I wanted to fire her the second she looked at you, but I need her to close this deal for me and fast. She’s the only one who can do it.” He presses the heel of his palm to his eye.
“Don’t worry about it; it happens all the time,” I tell him, brushing off his concern. “I’m not society, Drew. Look at me.” I gesture to myself with one hand. While I’m not ugly, I’m hardly anything special.
“I am looking at you and you’re fucking beautiful.” He drags his knuckles across my cheek and I sink into him. “And I promise to never let anyone treat you like that again.”
“She didn’t do anything, Drew—”
He sighs loudly, clearly aggravated. “But she did, Gracie, I hated the way it made me feel, and you should too.”
I look up at him and see the anger and the hurt all over his face. “I’ll never be someone who cares about that, Drew. Appearances, titles, money…none of that matters to me.” And there it is. I’ve laid it all out for him. If these are important to him, he’s definitely barking up the wrong tree with me. I care about digging myself out of the financial mess I’m in, not what some lady I’ll never see again thinks about me. My entire life, I’ve been looked down on by people who had more money, nicer clothes, better education, and an easier life. I’ve learned to keep my head down, work hard, and that the fruits of that labor will eventually pay off…I hope.
I see the muscles in his jaw tick as he contemplates what I’ve told him and he doesn’t say anything in return. The elevator doors open and we exit into the luxurious lobby. As the doorman sees us coming, he opens the doors that lead out onto the lovely tree-lined Twenty-third Street.
The rain has stopped, but the skies are still overcast and grey. Drew leans into the car and exchanges a few words with Tony before the car pulls away from the curb and into traffic.
Drew’s demeanor has shifted and he smiles, seemingly more relaxed. “Ready to explore our new neighborhood?” he asks, lacing his fingers through mine.
“Your neighborhood,” I correct him.
“Our.”
My heart races when he says this. While I’m flattered, this is all happening very fast and he doesn’t understand the baggage I come with. If he knew the depths of the shit I’m digging myself out of, he’d go running in the opposite direction, so I correct him again. “Your.”
Drew stops, turning to me. “Stop arguing with me, Gracie. If you think for one second that I’m letting you go back to Red Hook—”
“Whoa!” I stop on the sidewalk and press my palm to his chest. “Stop right there.” I shake my head and take a deep breath. “My apartment is my apartment. I’ve worked hard to get that place and everything that’s in it—”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I cut him off. “I’ll visit you here at your place.” The corner of my lips twist into a coy smile.
He sighs, exasperated with me. I don’t know why; he’s the one who’s being so unreasonable. I’m flattered but also concerned with how quickly this is moving. “Gracie, I know you feel what I feel. What we have is undeniable.” He swallows hard. “Never in my life have I met someone and felt an instant connection. I’ve never met a woman like you before—”
My heart races as he confesses this.
He must see my hesitation, my fears. �
��I’m not asking you to move in with me…yet,” he smiles, “but I would like you to stay with me.” He brushes a piece of my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. “I like spending time with you,” he whispers and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in tightly to him.
I can feel a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Maybe just a couple of days a week…but Brooklyn is my home.” Brooklyn is the first place I laid roots in New York City. While it’s not Chelsea or the Upper West Side, it’s home to me.
“Five days a week,” he bargains, and I almost want to laugh. I can’t believe we just met two days ago—not even—and he’s negotiating how many days I’ll stay with him in his enormous, gorgeous condo.
I bite my lip, having fun with this. “Three,” I counter.
“Six,” he tosses back. A smile begins to crawl across his face, highlighting that adorable dimple in his cheek.
I sigh, but I’m still amused. “Four.”
“Five, Gracie.” He smirks at me. He always fucking smirks at me when he knows he’s got me. I fight back a grin and look away from him.
“You don’t even know me,” I whisper. “What if I’m crazy?”
“Oh, you’re crazy all right.” He laughs darkly and places his hands on either side of my face. “Crazy for me.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes just as he leans in and kisses me. “Four days and maybe sometimes five,” I tell him between kisses as I loop my arm through his and head toward Tenth Avenue. An excitement grows in my belly with the realization that I’ve just agreed to spend most of my days with this deliciously beautiful man I just met. I’m never impulsive and this may just be my biggest regret yet, but there’s only one way to find out.
* * *
Drew and I spend the next two hours walking the streets of Chelsea. We take in the local shops and restaurants and stop for the best Mexican street tacos I’ve ever had. We stroll along the High Line, which is half a block from Drew’s new condo and is an elevated walking trail built over an old railroad track. Today was perfect; it was easy and simple. And I loved it. Maybe too much. Unease grows inside me as I find myself getting comfortable with this… us.
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