The Falling of Grace
Marisa Oldham
This edition published by Marisa Oldham via Amazon KDP
Text © Marisa Oldham 2012, 2014
ASIN #B00CIKKAR8
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. In accordance with U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Cover Art by: Marisa Oldham Photography
Edited by: Angie Martin
Formatted by: Angie Martin
Falling from Grace lyrics by: Carraine Oldham
This work of fiction contains adult situations that may not be suitable for children under eighteen years of age. Recommended for mature audiences only.
Also by Marisa Oldham
The Falling of Love
(The Falling Series, Book One)
Naughty & Nice: ‘Tis the Season
(An Angelia Rourke Anthology)
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
About Marisa Oldham
One Last Thing…
Chapter 1
Every thud of Grace Hathaway’s heart surges through her entire body. She focuses on the fluffy, white clouds to avoid looking at the man sitting before her, his chair parallel to the table. Just minutes before, Ian Taylor appeared from nowhere, interrupting her serene morning outside her favorite Paris café. She had not seen him, her first love, the love of her life, in over five years.
Ian clears his throat, and the sound pulls Grace back into reality. When her eyes fall on him, her heart skips a beat and panic swells in her chest. Her eyes grow wide, as she runs them down the black t-shirt clinging to his defined biceps, his blue jeans, and fine leather shoes. It is very different from the rocker look he had last time she saw him. She looks back to his face, and he brushes his layered, copper bangs away from his cheek. The motion calls her attention to the dark, auburn stubble covering his cheeks and arcing over his upper lip.
The last time Grace laid eyes on Ian, he stood in the doorway of their bedroom with a look of shock on his face. His sapphire eyes blazed with fury at catching her having sex with his best friend, Jaden. At the time, Ian had grown so slender due to his drug use that his eyes sunk into his face, and his skin seemed to be only a thin barrier between his flesh and bones. He has put on weight, and his arms have filled out with refined curves and bends, which relieves her. As her eyes scan his body again, she realizes that most of his weight gain must be muscle. His healthy appearance suggests that he no longer uses drugs. Grace meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I…ah,” he pauses. “That’s a long story, Gracie,” he says, cautiously. He grabs his coffee mug, raises it to his lips, and sips it slowly. Ian dips his head down to take another sip of his coffee and his sunglasses slip down his nose, exposing his blue eyes. Memories rush through Grace’s mind at seeing the striking azure color again. Memories of a time in her life where she could stare into those eyes for hours. Goosebumps form on her arms and the back of her neck. Ian only stares. Grace’s eyes dart to the beads of sweat that pool above Ian’s eyebrows, as she listens to the tapping of his shoes against the ground.
“I asked you why you’re here!” Grace snaps. Her coffee cup clanks onto the saucer that sits on the wrought iron table when she slams it down.
Ian sits back in his chair and clears his throat again. Her patience for him grows thinner by the second, even though he seems unsure of what to say. Rage grows in the pit of her stomach as recollections of catching him getting a blowjob from a slutty blonde, flash through her mind
“I have some business here and—”
“Business?” she asks, doubting his words are true.
“I’m here doing a couple of interviews and photoshoots for some French magazines. For my band.”
Grace tilts her head to the side and looks at him curiously, “Your band?” she questions, with one, well-groomed eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, No Quarter.”
“Not Black Dog?”
“Nah, Black Dog broke up a while ago. I think about three or so years ago.”
The mention of Black Dog, the band that Ian and Jaden started, brings unwelcome and unhappy thoughts of Jaden to Grace’s mind.
“It’s a band Coral and I started. We’re signed with a label in London, and since I’m in Paris, they paid for the trip and booked me some interviews and photoshoots. They’re also trying to put together a show. We have a pretty good following in Europe, so they want to take advantage of me being here.”
“Then why are you sitting at my café having coffee with me? Shouldn’t you be doing your little interviews or something?” she says, flicking her wrist.
Ian takes his sunglasses off and lays them on the table, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his fingers together. Laying his chin on his folded hands, he stares into Grace’s eyes, and then takes a deep breath. He lets the air out of his lungs before he speaks. “I was moving some of my stuff out of Jaden’s house a few weeks ago and I needed the case for my microphone. I remembered that I lent it to him, and I went to look for it in his closet,” he pauses.
The mention of his best friend, Jaden, stuns Grace into silence. Over the years, she had kept in touch with Jaden, but never once did he mention that he had spoken to Ian, let alone that they lived together.
“I reached up on top of the closet to get my case and a shoebox tumbled down on me. When it hit the floor, I saw your face.” He takes another deep breath. “It was a photograph of you and Michelle in front of the Eiffel Tower. Curiosity got the best of me, so I went through the box and found more pictures and letters from you to Jaden. It was pretty easy to figure out where you’ve been. I got your address off one of the envelopes, and I was just on my way to your place.”
“Did you read our letters?”
“Not really. I was in shock. I just took your address off of an envelope.”
The information overwhelms Grace. While still shocked by seeing Ian after so long, now he confronts her with the fact that Jaden, one of her best friends, has been lying to her for years. Although he has been busy playing gigs with his band Killing the Blues in Los Angeles and working part time at a recording studio, they remain in constant contact.
“Wait,” she stops him from continuing. “What do you mean you were moving out of Jaden’s house?”
“Grace,” he says, peering into her eyes. “I’ve been living at Jaden
’s for five years.”
Grace’s heart drops into her stomach. Anger, hatred, confusion, and sadness rush through her. How could Jaden lie to me all these years?
Ian reaches for Grace’s hand in what seems like an attempt to comfort her, but she whisks it away as fast as she can. “Don’t touch me!”
“I—”
“What are you doing here, Ian? Why are you sitting at this table with me?”
“Once I saw your picture, I had to come and find you.”
Grace rolls her eyes huffing. “Ian, it’s been over five years. You don’t just show up telling me you had to come and find me. What if I didn’t want you to find me?” Grace leaps up from her seat and places euros on the table. She grabs her clutch bag while she glares at Ian. With a swift turn on her heels, she stomps away.
“Grace, wait!”
Not turning to look at him, she raises her hand into the air and flips him off.
~ ~ ~
Ian knew that seeing Grace would be difficult, but never imagined she would be so cold to him. The sound of her heels hitting the cobblestone pavement sends lightning bolts of pain into his chest. Ian hoped that Grace would be happy to see him and, after all the years they have spent apart, she would be happy he found her. He never anticipated her reaction. Struggling with whether to follow her or not, Ian watches her light, blonde hair swing across her back as she storms off. He remembers it longer the last time he saw her. Unable to control himself, he lets his eyes fall on her long, sculpted, smooth legs. She’s so tall, so beautiful, he thinks, as his mouth parts. “Gracie, come back!”
She nears the corner of the building and is about to slip out of his sight. Ian stands to go after her. Walking only a few steps away from the spot where he was just sitting, he stops, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and puts his hand over his swiftly beating heart. With his eyes closed, the vision of her fills his mind. After all these years, she still seizes him with her beauty. Her flawless, pale skin reminds him of smooth cream, so lickable, and the perfect shade. As she sat there stunned, he could not help drinking in the sight of her. One luscious leg elegantly dangled over the other and her curves were evident even while she was sitting. His memory amplified every detail, from her long, petite fingers to her perfectly shaped and manicured nails. A dainty ring on her finger caught his eye and for a moment, his heart sank as he worked out the logistics in his mind. Wrong hand, he thought, as he let out a relieved breath. Grace was always the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, but now as a woman, she astounds him. Her piercing green eyes reached into his soul and aroused all of his old feelings.
Even the manner in which she walks speaks volumes about her current feelings for him. Ian takes his seat again and throws his head back into his palms. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m such a fucking idiot.
His system still in shock from seeing Grace, Ian reaches for his coffee and leans into the back of the chair while sipping. He had no idea she would be at this café, he was only stopping for a cup of coffee to try to gain the courage it was going to take to knock on her door. To his surprise, as he approached the café, she was sitting there reading a magazine with no clue of the storm that was about to hit. Ian shakes his head as he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Putting one between his lips, he lights it and inhales. Things are not going as he planned. During the twelve-hour flight from Los Angeles to Paris, he rehearsed what he would say to Grace. Yet, when it came down to the moment he was to speak the lines he went over and over again, he failed.
Ian leans forward and rests one elbow on his knee, the cigarette dangling from his lips, and runs his other hand through his hair. Now what? What am I supposed to do now? She hates my guts. Not finishing it, he drops his cigarette into his coffee cup, pulls euros from his pocket, lets them fall onto the table, and sprints in the direction Grace went. When he rounds the corner, he can see her halfway up the block. Her tall frame stands out from the rest of the pedestrians lining the street. Resisting the urge to call out to her again, he slips his hands into his pockets and slows his pace to a walk, all the while keeping his eyes on Grace.
~ ~ ~
Grace storms down the street toward her home. She glances behind her to see if Ian is following her and to her comfort, she does not see him. Slowing her stride, she takes controlled, deep breaths to calm herself. What the hell is going on? The world spins around her, making her lightheaded. She reaches out to the wall of the building, leaning on it. She doubles over slightly while sucking in more deep breaths. Overwhelmed with so many emotions, she thinks, Get it together, Grace. Emotions she has worked very hard over the last several years to suppress. After everything that happened with Ian, she focused her life on her work. To keep her life on a positive track, she only thinks about her artwork and her successful modeling career. Her life has no room for romance or heartache. She no longer allows people to have an emotional effect on her, the way Ian just has.
Realizing her location, she straightens up and glances through the paned windows of the art gallery where she sells her work. Grace smiles when she sees one of her paintings in the window. The vivid hues of the paintings bring her back to reality. Proudly lifting her head, she straightens her body as she walks at a brisk pace down the sidewalk.
Grace walks through the white double French doors that lead to the entryway of her old world style Parisian building. An iron elevator glides down and comes to a stop with a loud ding. Grace glances over her shoulder one last time to be sure she cannot see Ian, and then steps into the elevator. With a slender finger, she pushes the button for the sixth floor. As she rides upwards in the elevator, weakness comes over her. Only moments ago, she was sitting across from Ian, the love of her life. The boy who changed her world for better and for worse.
The elevator doors slide open with another chime, and she walks the short distance to her loft door. She slides the rustic key into the keyhole, and the door creaks open. Sunlight from her loft fills the hallway, and the brightness warms her skin. A mix of warm vanilla and floral fragrances fills her with a sense of home. She has always found her loft to be a cozy and welcoming environment.
She glides into her loft and lays her clutch bag on the glass French style table that sits just inside her entryway. She throws her keys down and the sound of the keys colliding with the glass rings throughout her loft. Reaching behind her, she removes her black platform high heels from her feet, one at a time. Exhaustion flows over her body like a waterfall. As she walks through her loft, she discards her clothes onto the floor, craving the feel of cool air-conditioning on her skin. With a heavy breath, she flops onto her couch. She raises her arm and covers her eyes with it, blocking out all the light that radiates through her floor-to-ceiling windows. Her heart aches because she left Ian sitting alone at the café. After years of wondering where he was, what he was doing, and thinking she would never see him again, there he sat in front of her…and she just left him there? She fights back the tears that are forming in her eyes as she rests on the couch.
A knock at the door startles Grace. Wearing only her panties, she groans as she rises to a sitting position on her sofa. The knocking does not stop so Grace gets up from the couch. Slaps from her little feet hit the hardwood floors echo through her large loft. As she bends to look through the peephole, her hair falls into her face obstructing her view. The knocks continue. She secures strands of her long, blonde hair behind her ear and peeps through the hole. To her shock, Ian stands there, holding sunflowers in his arms. She lets go of the peephole door and the sound of metal sliding over metal fills the loft.
“Go away, Ian,” she yells, as she walks back to her couch.
More knocking.
“Va-t’en!”
“I just want to talk to you. Can you please let me in?” Ian pleads.
She hears a thump on the door that sounds as if he has laid either his head or his arm on it.
“I came all this way to see you. I’ve waited all these year
s to find you. Can’t you just open the door and talk to me for a little while?”
“Va t’en! Go away!”
He pounds harder on the door.
“That’s it, Ian! Get the hell out of here!”
She waits and listens to his footsteps as he walks to the elevator.
Grace walks to her kitchen, grabs a bottle of sweet red wine, two glasses, and plops down on her couch. The events of the last hour have her in utter shock. She picks up her cell phone and dials her sister’s number.
“Allo!” Michelle’s voice seems abnormally chipper.
“You are not going to believe who just showed up at the café, pulled up a chair, and sat next to me.”
“Qui?”
In a slow, controlled voice, Grace says, “Ian.”
“What! Holy shit! Are you kidding me?” Michelle shrieks.
“I wish I were, Missy,” she says, after swallowing a sip of wine.
“Wait, our café, down the street?”
“Yeah, Michelle!”
“Ian? Ian from high school Ian? Ian that you were engaged to Ian!”
“Oui. That Ian! I only know one Ian, ya know,” says Grace, in frustration.
“Well…wha…what is he doing here?”
“He’s here to find me. He also said something about business with his band, photoshoots, interviews. His band is signed in London…Michelle…Ian. Ian is in Paris,” she whimpers.
“Do you need me to come over?”
“Oui. I’ve already got a bottle of wine open.”
Chapter 2
Michelle sits cross-legged on Grace’s couch facing her, and neither of them says anything for a long while.
“How did he know you were going to be at the café?” Michelle finally asks.
Grace shakes her head. “I have no idea, but the most screwed up part of this whole thing is that Jaden has been lying to me this whole time.”
The Falling of Grace (The Falling Series Book 2) Page 1