Unexpectedly Yours

by Shea, Rebecca

  “Maybe someday you two will be able to mend your relationship,” she responds thoughtfully, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I shrug halfheartedly. “Maybe.”

  “What’s that saying?” She taps a finger over her pursed lips and tips her head back. “Everything happens for a reason? Or something like that.”

  I nod, trying not to let my smile be bitter. Thankfully, her smile is enough to warm me and make me forget how fucking awful that time in my life was.

  “That’s what I always tell myself,” she says. “There has to be some reward in all of the misery life throws at us. Like, after all the pain, the heartache, and the challenges we face, there is some grand reward that will suddenly appear.” Now she shrugs. “I know that sounds stupid, but life can’t always suck, right?”

  I let out a small laugh. “The amazing moments far outweigh the shitty ones, I most definitely believe that.”

  “I like it,” she smiles, “and I want to believe it too.”

  I reach across the table and pull her hand into mine. “Then let’s both believe.”

  * * *

  The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and getting to know each other. Favorite colors, movies, animals, restaurants, and guilty pleasures.

  “Pretty Woman.” She smiles widely. “There is no greater love story than Edward and Vivian.” She sighs, shoving a piece of fajita steak into her mouth.

  My eyes widen in horror. “She was a hooker, Gracie! It was the most unrealistic love story there is!”

  She gasps exaggeratedly and sets her fork down. “You obviously know nothing about love. True love conquers all of the crap life hands us, even for hookers, Drew.” She runs her hands over the cloth napkin in her lap and leans back in her chair.

  I can’t help but smile. Leaning in, I rest my forearms on the edge of the table. “Say it again.”

  “What?” She wrinkles her forehead in confusion.

  “What you just said. Repeat it.”

  “True love conquers all the crap life hands us—”

  I grin, gloating just a little. “Stop right there. Say it one more time.”

  She swallows hard, knowing what she’s said and what I’m implying.

  Her lips close and her face shifts from playful to somber.

  I urge her, “Say it again.”

  She stubbornly shakes her head.

  I’m not letting this go. “Say it.”

  “Drew, that’s only in the movies.”

  Now I shake my head in response. “But it’s not, Gracie. Go ahead, say it.”

  She inhales deeply. “True love conquers all the crap life hands us.” Her words are barely above a whisper and her eyes fall from mine to her lap.

  “Look at me,” I tell her.

  She lifts her head and pulls her lips between her teeth.

  “Remember those words, Gracie. True love conquers all the crap life hands us.” I plan to use her own words as leverage against her when I need to, and she knows it.

  Ten

  I find Drew sitting at the office desk in the hotel suite, his face buried in his laptop. He once again insisted that I spend the night with him, and after we both unloaded some heavy personal information yesterday, I didn’t argue. I feel like we now have a better understanding of each other. He understands why my focus is on my career so that I can concentrate on paying down my debt, and I better understand his possessiveness and his need to want me nearby.

  “Morning,” I say quietly behind him, doing my best not to startle him. He turns around quickly, the office chair spinning in my direction.

  “Morning,” he says, a large smile spreading across his face.

  “Busy?” I ask him, nodding toward the laptop.

  “Not really. Just coordinating a few things,” he says, “and wanted to let you sleep without disturbing you.”

  Twice now I’ve woken up and he hasn’t been in the bed. Selfishly, I hate waking up and not having him there. My days are limited with Drew and waking up without him next to me hurts a little.

  “You don’t sleep much, do you?” I tighten the belt of the robe around my waist as he watches me intently.

  “Some nights I don’t sleep much, other nights I do. Just depends what I have going on in my head,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Since I’ve been here, you haven’t slept much. I stress you out—"

  He shakes his head. “Stop. You don’t stress me out.” His eyes fall from mine, trailing down my body, taking me in. The short silk robe that appeared in the closet, replacing the large, soft robe I used the other day had to be his doing. He stands quickly, taking three large steps across the suite to stand directly in front of me.

  He reaches for me, his hands gently grasping my upper arms. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to my mouth before trailing his lips to my jaw, where he places another soft kiss before burying his face against the base of my throat. When he pulls away, both of his hands now cup my cheeks, and his possessive blue eyes hold my gaze.

  “I need you, Gracie.” His thumb slides across my lower lip, those words holding so much meaning. Yesterday morning, I was prepared to run; today, I want to tell him I need him too. He backs me toward the large dining table until my bottom hits the edge, stopping us. His firm hands fall from my arms to cup my bottom, and he carefully lifts me, setting me on the edge of the table. Nudging my legs open, he slides his body into the vacant space, his hard length pressing against my bare core through his gym shorts.

  My breathing hitches as his fingers fumble with the tie of my robe until the knot is undone and the silk robe falls from my shoulders, exposing all of me.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he mumbles against my breast before pulling one of my taut nipples into his mouth. His gentle sucking shoots pleasure straight to my core just as a traitorous moan slips from my lips.

  “Jesus,” I hiss as another bolt of electricity rips through me.

  Drew guides me down, my back pressed to the hardwood table as he trails kisses from my breasts down to the soft curve of my stomach. His hands run along the long line of flesh from my knees up to the apex of my thighs, where I yearn for his touch.

  His thumbs get there first, separating my wet flesh, while his mouth trails lower until his tongue meets my clit.

  “Oh, god!” I scream when he sucks the soft, throbbing bud into his mouth, my hips bucking gently against his face. My fingers clench the edges of the table, my fingernails clawing into the smooth, hard wood.

  Edging a finger into my core, he works it in and out in perfect rhythm with the swirl of his tongue around my clit. My body is on high alert, my nipples taut and my thighs shaking with every thrust and every lick. I am powerless to his touch.

  “I need all of you, Gracie. Always,” he confesses as he fucks me with his mouth and fingers. He’s shown me the greatest pleasure, support, and trust these last three days, and my heart breaks at his words.

  Tears build in my eyes and I pinch them closed. He is everything I need, yet something inside me wants to protect him from my baggage. He deserves someone whose focus is on him…solely. “You have me for six days.”

  * * *

  Thankfully, today is a holiday and the office is closed. It’s nice to have a three-day weekend, especially with how fast and furious things have been going for Drew and me. I find my way into the shower, allowing the hot water to steam up the glass-encased space. I press my back to the cool glass and breathe in deeply.

  Drew made love to me on the dining room table. He devoured me slowly, lovingly, and carefully, every inch of me. He made sure to worship my body, but it’s my heart and soul that are hurting. Tears sting my eyes as I think of saying goodbye to him, to this, to us. Our connection is undeniable, and as much as I try to convince myself it’s only physical, it’s not. He’s worked his way into my heart and damn if it doesn’t hurt.

  I quickly shampoo my hair and wash my body before drying off and getting ready for the day. Drew wanted to finish some emails before taki
ng me out to run errands. He’s always secretive about what we’re doing and that keeps me on my toes, but it also doesn’t allow me to plan ahead and that drives me crazy.

  I slip into a pair of black skinny jeans that are ripped at the knees, and a chunky cream off-the-shoulder sweater. I wear my hair down in long beachy waves and grab my old black Chucks. They’ve seen better days, but I’m not ready to part with them. These were the one thing I bought new for myself and I’ve walked hundreds of miles in these shoes and I’m damn proud of that.

  I brush some taupe eye shadow on my lids and line my eyes with a thin line of black eyeliner. It makes the green in my hazel eyes pop. Two swipes of mascara and I’m done just as Drew steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

  “You ready?” he asks, nuzzling his face into the side of my neck.

  “I am now.” I lean back into his embrace, sighing.

  “Good, because if we don’t leave now, I’m going to reconsider our plans and we’re going for round two on the dining table.” He growls against the side of my neck and my legs weaken.

  “Then we better get out of here,” I manage as his lips suck at that spot just below my ear that drives me wild. My heart stammers and my core warms. Damn him.

  “Come on,” he says reluctantly, pulling away from me. I internally praise everything holy because I would have laid down on this bathroom floor and let him have his way with me.

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” I ask as he drags me out of the bathroom.

  He grabs my purse off the table in the foyer and pulls me right out the door of the suite.

  “Not yet.” He smirks and laces his fingers through mine, pulling me possessively to his side as he hits the elevator call button with his other hand. The bell chimes and the doors slide open as we step in.

  Drew is dressed casually in worn jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, but his watch and shoes tell anyone looking that his casual appearance is anything but inexpensive. He’s designer from head to toe. I could buy jeans like that for three dollars at my thrift store, and my guess is he paid hundreds for his.

  Sadness twitches inside me as I’m reminded of the difference between us. I don’t fit in his world, and he doesn’t understand mine.

  Tony waits for us just outside the doors of the Four Seasons. Drew hands him a sheet of paper and with nothing more than a curt nod, Tony closes the door behind us after we slide into the back seat.

  The overcast New York City skies don’t damper the excitement I have every time I travel the streets of Manhattan. I live for this city. It holds all of my dreams, every bit of my excitement, and hopefully, the opportunity to dig myself and my mom out of the debt that has been crippling us for years.

  A relatively painless few minutes pass when we pull up in the back-alley of a nondescript building in SoHo. I look at Drew, who’s pounding away on his phone but quits when he realizes the car has stopped.

  “What is this place?” I ask, scanning the semi-scary-looking building with no signage and what looks like a warehouse where the mob might hide dead bodies. However, it’s SoHo, and knowing Drew, it has to be something chic.

  “You’ll see,” he says as Tony opens the back door and Drew slides out, reaching inside for my hand. He helps me from the car and we walk to a set of steel double doors where Drew raps his knuckles on the heavy metal.

  Before I have time to ask any further questions, one of the back-alley doors opens and a woman greets us with a giant smile.

  “You must be Andrew,” she says with a soft voice. “And Grace, correct?” She reaches for my hand and shakes it first before reaching for Drew’s. “I’m Shannon and I will be helping you today.”

  From what I can see, there are floor-to-ceiling rolls of fabric and the sound of loud machines coming from an area beyond the fabric.

  Drew clears his throat and his eyes scan the enormous space. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”

  She glances down at her tablet and nods. “We have a lot of ground to cover,” she says and taps her finger on the tablet. “I received your list of wants, and while your timeline is tight, we should be able to cover it.” She looks up and smiles brightly at both of us. “My team will have access to the property starting today, correct?”

  Drew reaches for my hand and pulls it into his. “Yes. We’re here to pick colors and fabrics and I’ll entrust the rest to you. You came highly recommended.”

  Shannon blushes, pleased, and waves us to follow her. “What were you thinking in terms of an overall palette?” We follow her through a narrow walkway between giant rolls of fabric in all colors and textures.

  “Grace?” Drew nudges me to answer her.

  “Um,” I stutter, not sure what to answer. This isn’t my house and my style is most definitely not Drew’s, or at least I assume it’s not. I haven’t known him long enough to make that assumption. “I don’t know.”

  Shannon leads us to a wall of neutral fabrics, all in varying shades of grey. “Grey is a great color to use for emphasis. We have light grey, dark grey, and charcoal. It’s easy to use this for your statement pieces, then add a pop of color with accent pillows, accessories and art.”

  Shannon pushes a button and the giant rolls of fabric begin to move. She stops at one in the lighter end of the color spectrum that has some soft texture to it. “I’d recommend this for a large sectional.”

  Instinctively, I reach out and run my hand over the soft fabric. It’s durable but still has a soft feel to it.

  “What do you think?” Drew asks, also running his long fingers over the fabric. In another life, I’d enjoy picking out fabrics and furniture with a potential boyfriend. In this life, I have to keep him at a distance. It’s not fair to him to be this involved in the process of decorating his place, and that makes me sad.

  “It’s beautiful. I think it’ll complement the grey in the kitchen,” I tell him while looking at Shannon, who’s taking notes in her tablet. I don’t want him to think I want an opinion on his furnishings.

  “We like it,” Drew says, and Shannon takes a picture of the fabric with her tablet.

  “Excellent; this gives me what I need. Do you have a preference on accent colors?” she asks as we walk toward another wall. The wall is covered in darker-colored fabrics: dark navy, rich greens, deep reds.

  “I like the navy,” Drew says, looking at me, waiting for my response.

  “Me too,” I answer quietly, feeling awkward. I just said I didn’t want an opinion, yet here I am offering one. I want Drew to be happy, and I know that participating and supporting him with these decisions will make him happy, so I go along with it.

  Shannon seems pleased with Drew’s decisions, and she smiles as she taps away at her tablet. “Excellent. How do you feel about gold as an accessory color? We can do some modern furniture with gold metal legs; brushed gold is really popular right now.”

  “That sounds great,” Drew answers.

  “One more thing,” Shannon begins, walking us through the walls of fabric and down another corridor toward the room where the loud machinery is. We stop before two double doors and she turns toward us. “It’s going to be loud. This is where the furniture is manufactured. Everything is custom, made to specification for your space. However, there are many samples, so you can see the style of furniture you might like. If there’s something you want to add or tweak, we can do that too. Just ask and I’ll let you know if it’s possible.”

  She pushes open both doors and the room is bright and full of activity. Men and women are working at constructing and upholstering large pieces of furniture. I can see giant sectionals, modern couches, small accent chairs, dining chairs, and headboards. I had no idea a place like this existed. I knew of chain furniture stores and, of course, Goodwill, but this blows my mind. I can’t even imagine the cost of having your own furniture made.

  I follow behind Drew and Shannon, taking in the enormous space. It must take up an entire city block. When we finally reach
the area with samples, I’m shocked at the different styles of couches. Plush and comfy to stiff and modern, tufted with buttons to clean and sleek.

  I lean in to Drew and whisper to him, “I’m not helping you choose this. This is for your place—”

  “What do you think of this?” Drew cuts me off, pointing to a large sectional. The cushions are deep and full, but with clean lines. Nothing uncomfortable-looking but still stylish and modern. I swallow hard and look at him, squeezing his hand hard in a gesture of defiance.

  “You can sit on it,” Shannon offers as she continues tapping away on her tablet.

  Drew pulls me to the giant couch and we sit in the middle of the sectional. I sink into his side and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. The embrace is comforting, and for a flash of a second, I imagine myself curled into him at his new place, wrapped in a blanket, watching TV. I push that thought aside just as I feel his chin on top of my head and his arm pulls me even closer to him.

  “I think this will be perfect,” he tells Shannon. “Make sure there is a matching ottoman,” he adds. “A big one.”

  “Sure thing,” she responds and looks at us with a kind smile. “I think that’s all I need from you. Now that we have colors and the style selected, I can fill in the rest. My team will be at your new place later today for measurements and we’ll have this delivered by the date you requested. Will there be any contractors we need to work around?”

  “No. It was remodeled right before it was placed on the market. A cleaning crew will be coming in too, but that won’t interfere with delivery. If there is anything, please reach out to me immediately. Nothing aggravates me more than lack of communication,” Drew answers.

  “My team will be there to accept delivery and ensure everything is ready for you, Mr. McPherson. Thank you for entrusting me to decorate your home.” She smiles sincerely at him before looking at me. “And, Grace, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you and Mr. McPherson love your new home.”