Unexpectedly Yours

by Shea, Rebecca

  Gracie pauses and takes a deep breath. I can tell this is extremely hard for her to talk about. Her voice is soft as she continues to tell their story. “She convinced him to go, so he left for college that next fall. He told my mom he wanted to get a degree in accounting, work for a few years to get experience, then open a small firm in Antelope Hills where he was born and raised. When he left for school, we moved in with my grandparents and they helped take care of me so my mom could still work a few days to help pay for diapers and formula. They gave us a free roof over our heads and watched me a couple of days a week. I don’t think they were particularly happy with the situation, but they did their best to support my mom and dad in the ways they could or would.”

  She hesitates for a moment and takes a deep breath. I see her chin quiver as she begins and I know this is where things take a turn. “All was fine until my grandparents left to get my dad for Christmas break. On the way back from Missoula, they hit a patch of black ice on the interstate and their car rolled six or seven times, killing all of them.”

  I stroke the top of her hand with my thumb as I struggle with the weight of what she’s just told me. Tears that have built in her eyes slowly fall as she continues.

  “Obviously, I was a baby, so I had no idea any of this happened, but that night set off a series of unfortunate events for me and my mom. We were suddenly on our own. We jumped from apartment to apartment. She worked odd jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. My mom and dad weren’t married, so she wasn’t entitled to anything financially, and honestly, they didn’t have much anyway. Suddenly, we had no one. From that day on, it’s always been just me and my mom.”

  Until now, I think to myself. She’ll always have me.

  Gracie takes a deep breath and forges on. “There were times we couldn’t make ends meet and my mom would run up credit card debt. It always seemed insignificant, but we could barely afford the minimum payment on those cards over the years, yet we always managed, or so I thought.”

  Gracie pauses, her voice thickening with emotion. “Then, when I was in high school, my mom got cancer. I was covered with insurance through the state because I was a minor, but she had no medical coverage. There were some medical grants she applied for and received but not enough. I put myself through college with student loans and a handful of scholarships. After I graduated, I consolidated all of our debt and I swore I’d repay everything so that my mom didn’t have to worry for one more day. She’s spent her entire life worrying about money, and in my gut, I feel that was ultimately responsible for her cancer. Her worry and stress manifested itself physically in her body, and I wanted her focus to be on getting better and nothing else.”

  I nod slowly, taking it all in. Now Grace is the one worrying about money. She’s the one manifesting the stress onto herself. I’m also confused about how much debt she has since people do debt consolidation loans all the time. This usually helps them focus on repaying their debt faster with one loan versus a handful of loans. My mind is racing, but I continue to remain silent and let her finish.

  She exhales heavily. “When I finally consolidated everything, it was almost three hundred thousand dollars, most of it medical bills.”

  I almost choke at the amount. She didn’t just consolidate her student loans; she consolidated everything into one giant loan. I swallow hard, realizing the trouble she’s gotten herself into financially.

  She looks at me warily. “I know that doesn’t sound like much to you, but for us, that’s a big deal. Even with my job, the payments are hard to stay on top of and I found myself in the same position as before. Every month, I make the minimum payment, and it barely covers the interest. I just feel like I can never get ahead. My paychecks barely cover my rent, a small amount I send to my mom, and the payment on the loan.”

  This is where I stop her. “Where is your loan through?” She better tell me it’s a legitimate bank or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

  She shrugs. “Some financial company I found online. They’re the only ones that would help me,” she says, her face defeated. “I was just a kid right out of college and had no credit.”

  I nod my head and feel the anger bubbling inside me. I know exactly what she did.

  “First of all, financially, this burden should not be yours to bear alone.” This really pisses me off. I get that Grace loves her mother, but she shouldn’t have to bear the burden of all this debt. “And we’ll get back to that, but it sounds to me like you’ve gotten wrapped up with a predatory lender. They’re all over the place. Those payday loan places you see on every corner in poor neighborhoods are exactly that. They prey on those who need help. They hike up interest rates in return for quick cash. It’s awful and many states are cracking down with laws regarding them.”

  Her eyes mist with tears and her face reddens in embarrassment.

  “Let me help you—” I begin and she cuts me off, her head shaking from side to side.

  “No! I don’t want any help and I also don’t have the time to get involved with anyone. I need to focus and work my ass off—”

  “Grace!” I stop her, reaching out to cup her cheek. I lift her chin so her eyes meet mine. “You can do this alone, but I can help you. Let me help you get this loan refinanced—”

  “Stop trying to save me,” she snaps. “I don’t need to be rescued.”

  There’s the stubborn woman I’ve fallen in love with. I sigh, leaning forward on the couch, and rake my hands over my face. I want to help her, but how will I get through to her? “I’m not trying to save you,” I try again, my voice even. “Just let me help you figure this out. Let me help you with a plan.”

  Her head falls forward and her eyes are downcast as she picks at her thumbnail in silence.

  “Please,” I urge her.

  “I can’t get involved with you,” she says quietly. “I can’t afford to lose my job over this relationship.”

  “You’re not going to lose your job, Grace. We’ve already been over this.”

  “Then I can’t afford the distraction. I need to focus on my clients—”

  I shake my head and cut her off. “Give me one week to prove I won’t be a distraction in your life.” What in the actual hell am I doing? Am I negotiating myself? I have never begged a woman for anything, let alone to give me a chance at proving myself. Anyone else, and I would have packed her bag myself and had the bellhop up here escorting her out. But not Gracie. What in the hell is she doing to me?

  What feels like ten minutes is more like fifteen seconds, but she finally lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. “One week?” she asks.

  “One week,” I confirm, feeling hopeful. I can see the wheels in her head turning. “Then this is done?” Her voice shakes.

  I swallow hard at how easily she says that. “If that’s what you want, then yes, after one week, this is done.”

  She’s pondering my proposal. “Do you promise to not be all weird at work?” She sits up a little straighter and I know she’s considering this.

  I chuckle softly at her remark. “I’m not weird, Gracie.”

  She tilts her head. “You know what I mean. You’re not going to use this against me at work, are you?”

  “Our relationship is separate from work,” I tell her, not even disturbed for using the word relationship.

  “What am I doing?” she mumbles to herself and buries her hands in her face before rubbing her temples. “This is a really bad idea.”

  It’s not a bad idea. It’s the best idea. I will do anything in the next week to prove to her that we belong together.

  * * *

  I send off an email to the same private investigator I used to get information on Gracie the first time, when I walked into that conference room and found out she worked at Williams Global. I asked for a complete report on her, her mother, and any known relatives, including credit reports, addresses, and any last detail to find out more about her. I know the right thing to do would be to ask her, but she’s convince
d that she’s done with me in one week, so I don’t know that’d she’d share any more than she already has, and I will do anything it takes to keep her. Anything. In a matter of days, this woman has changed me, softened my hardened heart. Gracie makes me want a future, something I gave up on when I found my ex-fiancée in bed with my brother.

  We spend the afternoon binge-watching HGTV, and I order lunch in. Even though Gracie doesn’t say it, I know she’s exhausted and needs some time to simply rest her mind. She’s cautious with her space on the couch next to me, but I pull her closer anyway and she doesn’t fight me.

  She sets a pillow in my lap and rests her head on it, her body facing the television in front of us. I take this opportunity to run my fingers through her silky hair and she lets out a little moan when my fingers graze the back of her neck.

  Damn. What is she doing to me?

  I could spend every weekend like this. Gracie curled lazily around me, spending our time together exploring New York City, or simply watching TV. Just having her next to me. I’ve always been a workaholic, and I’m learning to love and appreciate these simple, carefree moments with her.

  Gracie dozes off and I send a text message to the concierge to make a dinner reservation for us. Less than five minutes later, he confirms our reservation for eight-thirty at La Mesa de Abuela, the newest and most chic Mexican restaurant in Manhattan.

  With plenty of time left to get ready, I enjoy the quiet comfort of having Gracie snuggled up next to me. Watching her sleep stirs something inside me. Something possessive and needy, something I don’t want to let go of. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a one-night stand would turn into me falling for this woman resting in my lap. But then I remember, she only guaranteed me one week. I have seven days to convince her that she needs me as much as I need her.

  * * *

  “Please tell me this is not a fancy restaurant,” Gracie hollers through the closed bathroom door where she’s getting ready.

  “Not fancy!” I respond, stepping into a pair of blue jeans. Gracie steps out of the bathroom in a pair of skin tight skinny jeans that are cut off just above her ankle and a lacy black top with a high neck. Perfect for where we’re going.

  “Ugh,” she says with discomfort, tugging at the high neckline of the shirt.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her as she slides her arms into a black leather jacket before stepping into a pair of heels.

  Fuck. Me…

  “Twenty dollars,” she says, unplugging her cell phone from the charging cord where it was charging on the nightstand.

  “Twenty dollars?” I repeat, shaking out of my thoughts.

  She smirks. “Yep. Twenty dollars. This entire outfit cost twenty dollars.” Her eyes fall to her feet. “Except for the shoes. Jamie gifted these to me. Some designer that she loves. She claims to have bought them for herself, and they didn’t fit. But her feet are two sizes bigger than mine, so it was no accident. Then she had the nerve to lie to me and tell me she couldn’t return them,” she says, sliding her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “But everything else was twenty dollars. Thrift store shopping at its best.”

  “I’m impressed,” I tell her sincerely. I spend more than twenty dollars on a damn pair of socks, and that’s not something I should be proud of.

  “Me too.” She laughs. “Growing up poor used to be so embarrassing. Now thrift store shopping is the chic thing to do. Like being poor is trendy.” She rolls her eyes.

  “You’re not poor.” I don’t know why I tell her that, but I do.

  She snorts in response. If I have anything to say about her life, she’ll never struggle for another dollar, but I can’t tell her that. I have seven days to make her mine, and then she won’t have a choice.

  “Ah, I beg to differ.” She props a hand on her hip and purses her lips.

  “Let’s talk about this over dinner.” I reach out and grab her hand, pulling it into mine. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late, and I’m starving.”

  “You’re not starving; you don’t know starving,” she mumbles under her breath, and sadly, she’s right. That was a bad analogy.

  * * *

  “Drew.” Gracie hisses my name as the hostess directs us to our table. “This place is gorgeous!” Gracie is right. This restaurant is hip and trendy and full of rustic Mexican décor with a modern flair. It’s casual but swanky. “And I freaking love Mexican food,” she says as I pull out her chair for her to take a seat.

  Our waitress recommends margaritas and table-side guacamole, and we decide to share an order of steak fajitas.

  She takes a long sip of her margarita before setting it down. “Tell me about you,” she says, picking up a tortilla chip and taking a small bite off one of the corners.

  “What do you want know?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t ask about my family. That is territory I don’t like to cover.

  “Everything.” She shrugs. “Tell me about your family.” I inwardly cringe when she says that, but she continues. “What were you like in high school? Where did you go to college? Have you ever been married?” She smirks and raises her eyebrows.

  I let out a laugh and shake my head. “No, Gracie. I’ve never been married.”

  “I’m shocked.” She feigns surprise and places her hand over her heart. “You seem like such a catch. I’m just surprised someone hasn’t snatched you up yet.”

  “A catch?” I laugh again.

  “Well, you know what I mean.” She takes another sip of her margarita. “You’re successful, you own a company, and you’re clearly not hurting in the looks department.” She winks at me and I can’t help but smile at her as she continues. “Okay, you’ve never been married…I get that, you’re still young. When was your last relationship?”

  I take a sharp breath and call our server over. “Shot of tequila. Don Julio, please.”

  Gracie laughs and sits back in her chair, rubbing her hands together. “If you need a shot, I can only imagine this is going to be a really good story.”

  I wince. “Not sure ‘good’ is the word I’d use to describe it, but it was interesting.” I sit up a little straighter and take a deep breath before starting. “I dated a girl named Melissa all through college. We met when we were freshman at Berkley and hit it off immediately. She was getting a degree in political science and wanted to go to law school, and I knew I’d be taking over my father’s advertising business, so I majored in business with an emphasis in advertising.”

  I pause, taking a moment to remember, something I rarely let myself do. “We got engaged our senior year of college. We were that couple all our friends envied, seemingly perfect by all outward appearances. We both had our futures all planned out and we were fully supportive of each other, but still very independent. I used to think that’s why our relationship was so easy.”

  I stop when our server delivers the shot of tequila, only I don’t shoot the tequila; I sip it. Don Julio is an experience. It’s smooth and the burn is minimal as it slides across my tongue and settles in my throat before I swallow it, allowing the slow burn to warm me.

  “But it wasn’t easy,” I continue, deep-seated anger finding its way to the surface. “Somewhere along the way, she fell for someone else, and by fall, I mean fell into his bed while we were in the middle of planning our wedding…that someone else being my brother.” Reliving this memory burns worse than the damn tequila.

  Grace audibly gasps and her eyes bulge. “Your brother?”

  My throat tightens as I remember finding Melissa and my brother fucking in my bed when I returned home early from a business trip where my father was introducing me to peers and partners in the advertising industry. I nod my head, wincing again. “And after all that, it didn’t even last between them. Six months later, they were done, but it drove a huge wedge between me and my brother and we’ve never fully recovered from it.”

  “Jesus,” she mutters and picks up her margarita, taking a long, thoughtful drink.

  I clear my throat, t
aking another sip of Don to numb the memory. “Yeah, it was tough. But I buried myself in my work and forgot all about her. It was my goal to build up AM Advertising to be the West Coast’s top agency, and I did just that. I’m not sure my focus or dedication would have been fully on the company if Melissa had been in the picture.”

  “There’s more to life than work,” Gracie says quietly.

  “I realize that now,” I respond, holding her gaze. What she doesn’t know is that she has made me realize that and I want her to know how serious I am about it. I take a moment, folding my arms on the table and continue to hold her gaze. “You’ve taught me that.”

  She blinks twice at the intensity passing between us. “How? You’ve only known me for a couple of days.” When the intensity is too much, her eyes drop to her margarita, where her pointer finger runs around the rim of the glass.

  “Because for the first time in years, I enjoy something other than work. I find myself obsessed with something other than landing the next big client.” I swallow hard at my admission. I realize this could scare her off, but I’m laying all my cards on the table.

  She takes another bite of her tortilla chip and swallows hard. “Don’t get too comfortable with this newfound enjoyment,” she says softly, winking at me, trying to lighten the mood. But I know the weight those words bear. She clears her throat and turns the conversation away from us. “So things are still not good with you and your brother?”

  I shake my head and swallow hard. “Not really. We manage to be civil to each other, but that’s about it. Holidays with my mom are always interesting. She’s been trying for years to painstakingly rebuild the burnt bridge between us, and we manage to let her think it’s happening, but honestly, I’m not sure the damage can be repaired. I never expected my brother was capable of this kind of betrayal.”