by Ewens, Tracy
“Touch me.”
He slowly brought his lips to hers, arms still extended on the wall. His lips brushed, continued along her jaw and down her neck. It was soft, he was barely there, but her entire body felt him. She unraveled one tiny nerve at a time. Kate brushed her fingers along his collarbone, over the caps of his shoulders, and then touched her lips to his neck. Grady’s arms wrapped around her and his mouth was on her. She melted into him and was filled with the warmth of the very best spring rain. She could feel his breath change as her hands traveled along his back. What began as soft, quickly turned urgent as they both slipped past the line Kate had clung to in a desperate attempt to save herself from feeling what was now racing through her entire body. Her thoughts suddenly reminded her it had been a long time. They tried to fill her with insecurity and doubt, but with each touch, all thought was muffled and Kate let go.
After, they lay at the base of her new couch tangled in each other, listening to the rain dance on the windows. It was dark except for the glow from what was left of the candle Kate had lit when she got home. Grady ran his fingers along her spine. His breath rhythmic, soft. Kate began sliding off to the side, but he held her in place.
“Just, could I just have one more minute wrapped in you?” he asked.
She smiled into his chest and stayed right where she was, listening to his heart and feeling peaceful, surrounded. Kate tilted her head up to peek at him. He kept one arm around her and put the other behind his head. Sweet Jesus, he was even comfortable with himself naked.
“I don’t want to let go,” he said, tracing a finger through her hair.
“Well, at some point we’ll need to . . . ”
“I don’t need anything. I’m all set.”
She touched his face. “You have bushy eyebrows.”
“Hmm, not sure I’ve gotten that one before,” he said raising an eyebrow dramatically.
“You do, they’re bushier now that I’m close and . . . ”
“Naked on top of me?”
She laughed. “Yes, that too. I like them and,” her fingers moved down his cheek, “what’s the story with this?”
“I need to shave?”
“I know that, but did you shave this morning? I mean that’s an awful lot of stubble for the end of the day.” Kate was being playful and he smiled.
“I sort of shaved this morning. It’s not my favorite thing to do. I had pretty bad skin growing up, mostly on my cheeks and chin. When I was younger it was hard to shave and now I kind of use the stubble to cover up my not so smooth skin. It’s all about covering up the less appealing parts, right?”
Kate smiled.
“Also, I suppose I’m a hairy guy?”
“Nice hairy. I like your hair.” She touched his lips. “And I love these . . . these lips. I’ve secretly always loved them.”
He kissed the tip of her fingers. “I like you this way.”
“What way is that?” She touched his chin.
“Warm, relaxed and basking.”
“Basking, huh?”
“Yes, I think so. Let me get a closer look.” In one move Grady was over her, surveying. For a moment she was self-conscious, but the way he looked at her was something unreal, and then he made her laugh. “Well, you are definitely not hairy, so that’s good.” He ran his finger along her face and she closed her eyes. “Oh no, don’t close those. I could look into them forever. There’s so much in there, it’s endless.”
Kate opened her eyes.
“This nose is pretty cute, but right back at you with these,” he gently touched her lips. “Who knew these luscious lips would be so . . . ” He kissed her and she felt desired and wanted. The comfort and ease of touching each other’s face, so simple, but intimate. She looked at Grady, into the blue of his eyes that turned down a little at the ends. His eyes were mischievous, intelligent, and at that moment the look in them made her feel something she had never felt before—cherished. Tears pooled in her eyes and one slipped down the side of her face.
Grady wiped the tear away. “You are breath-taking, and I am— I’m so in love with you.”
She melted and tears continued. “Where did you come from?”
“Technically? Well in the biblical sense, I came from a very nice woman named Bindi, but . . . ”
She could tell he was trying to make her smile, stop the tears. She loved him for it. She loved him. She knew it, maybe she had always known it. “Grady,” she said.
“Kate.”
“I’m in love with you too, all of you. I don’t know how I got here, but you are here,” she touched her hand to her chest, “and I can’t get you out.”
Grady took her hand and kissed it.
“I’ve heard some great lines in my life, but those words,” he shook his head and took a long breath, “I’ve been waiting for something from your elusive heart.” His lips closed over hers and then she stood, leading him to the bathroom.
She smiled over her shoulder. “Absolutely no comments about the size of my shower. We can’t all have a bathroom the size of a small apartment.”
“If this is leading where I think it is, I doubt I’ll even notice the bathroom.”
They lathered, laughed some more, kissed, caressed, and made love on the other two pieces of her new furniture before sliding off to sleep. Kate couldn’t remember being so satisfied or so whole. She hadn’t felt whole in a long time; she may have never felt what she was feeling now. The pain that was buried beneath the surface when Nick chose to be with another woman had left her a while ago, replaced by indifference and a driving need to survive. As part of her survival Kate had shut down, but Grady was right, she was still in there—the happy, whole part of her—and she was an incredible woman. She had just forgotten.
Chapter Thirty
They were eating Fruit Loops on her thoroughly christened couch and watching Law and Order as the sun came up and washed Kate’s apartment with a light she swore was different. It was pink, warm, fuzzy sweater pink, and she hoped that it never went away because everything was magical in this light. Especially Grady’s rumpled morning body, sitting next to her in nothing but boxer shorts. They had put his clothes in the dryer at some point, but she was presently happy he had forgotten about them. His hair was off in different directions, his stubble, his eyes, the whole package together with the “Loops” was a deadly combination. Kate let out a slow breath of appreciation for early morning Grady.
He had helped her unpack a few more boxes at some ungodly hour of the night. Her books, her frames . . . she had forgotten all about the frames. Forgotten about most of the things, her things, that she had packed away.
Kate jumped up to get more milk. She was in nothing but a T-shirt and Grady was clearly no longer interested in law or order. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her.
She smiled up at him. “It’s early, let’s hit some estate sales.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but sounds good. I’ve actually never been to an estate sale,” Grady said, in between kissing her again.
“Of course you haven’t. Probably because you grew up in an estate,” Kate laughed.
“Doesn’t someone have to die to prompt an estate sale?”
“I’ve never really thought about it, but probably. Or maybe they’re downsizing,” she said, finally getting up and grabbing the milk from the kitchen.
“Eh, not sure that really happens. Can’t say my mom ever had an estate sale. I however had an award-wining lemonade stand in the second grade. No big deal.”
“Did you serve organic, homemade lemonade in crystal glasses?” she asked, sitting beside him.
“No. I think they were champagne flutes.”
Kate gave him a quick “Really?” look, and Grady laughed.
“Nope, sorry to disappoint, just clear Solo cups just like everyone else. Did you ever have a lemonade stand over there in the hard working real world? Probably grew the lemons yourself?” he teased.
Kate pushed him back on the couch, str
addled his lap. Grady pulled her up and carried her back to her new bed. They didn’t make it to the estate sales until later in the day, much later.
Grady left that evening to feed Bo and get some work done. Kate met Reagan at Hana’s, as planned, for her last weekly dinner as a single woman. Reagan’s wedding was the following weekend. The drink of the night was an Aviation. Kate loved them because they were light, crisp. Reagan loved them because they were purple and served in dainty glasses. Their food arrived and after going over the final wedding checklist one last time, Kate relaxed into the booth and confided in her friend.
“Doesn’t it bother you, Ben’s money?”
“Kate, you’re not exactly poor. I know you live a simple life, but your father is the Chief of Police. You have great shoes and a Louis Vuitton bag. You’re not loaded, but you are certainly not living check to check.”
“I never said I was, but Ben makes a hell of a lot more money than I do and I just wonder if it gets to you.”
“I honestly don’t think about it. He’s not extravagant, so it’s not at the forefront of our relationship. It’s money. We can take some nice trips, but he still books us at the Best Westerns because they are always the best locations.”
They laughed.
“Now, Ben is certainly not as wealthy as Grady, because that’s what we are actually talking about here, right?” Kate said nothing, smelled the sweet violet of her drink. “That kind of wealth is a different level, but it’s all just money and you can’t really hold it against the guy because he’s not poor.”
“I slept with him. I mean, we slept, actually there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping. Christ.” Kate downed the rest of her drink.
Reagan took her hand, smiled, and quietly started bouncing in the booth.
“Okay, well that’s an interesting plot twist. You’re not smiling, so should I assume it was . . . not a good experience?”
Kate looked up from her empty glass, swallowed, and Reagan knew.
“That good, huh?” Reagan said.
Kate just nodded. She didn’t know what to say. It had been a while since she had anything sexy to discuss.
“Of course it was, have you looked at the man? Well, sure, you’ve looked at all of him now and I’m guessing, even though I’m almost a married woman, that the view was pretty sensational. Kate? Are you going to say something?”
Kate closed her eyes. Allowed the buzz of expensive gin to wash over her, and then she opened them and said, “I love him.”
“Of course you do, honey. You would have never slept with him, or not gotten much sleep with him, if you didn’t.”
“I told him. I said those words.”
Reagan said nothing, waited for her to continue.
“I’m just not sure where to go from here, you know. He knows now, he has me and I . . . well, I don’t have a safety net anymore. I have furniture now and yesterday I unpacked my books, took out some pictures.”
Reagan’s eyes began to tear. She quickly wiped them away and took her friend’s hand. “He’s not going to drop you, honey. He’s loved you for a while now, and I’m guessing that’s not something he takes lightly. Is the money the problem, or the safety net?”
“Both. I mean you’re right that he doesn’t really flaunt it, relatively speaking. I suppose if I had a plane, we’d use it too.”
“Yeah, we would!”
The both of them laughed together, and Reagan signaled for dessert.
Monday morning, Grady was back in Kate’s bed watching her spin around the room in all her just-had-a-weekend-of-incredible-sex glory. She ran around brushing her teeth and getting ready for work. Most of her boxes were now put away, but he found she still navigated around the room as if they were there, as if she might trip over something. She was so stunning his chest hurt, and when she kissed him and sent him on his way before getting in her car for work, Grady knew how he wanted to begin every day for the rest of his life. He got into his car and drove home. Bo had been with his neighbor and deserved a very long walk.
Kate and Grady continued on in much the same passionately in love and laughing way while they were either at her house, or his. But in public, they agreed, they had a little over a month before the election, and it was best to keep things professional. Which was extremely difficult because every time Grady saw Kate, let alone touched her, he wanted to gather her in his arms and go back to her couch. As the real world started to seep into their lives again, Grady couldn’t help but worry.
It was one thing that he had been subjected to the fishbowl and reports his whole life, but now he was in love, he was loved, and he wanted to protect that more than anything. So, if they went hiking, it was on off hours, and they mostly ate at home. On the rare occasion they were approached by reporters, Grady stood in front of Kate and politely answered questions. They were very much a couple, but trying to not be a couple. Grady felt alive for maybe the first time in his life and was starting to actually resent the hiding. But he had Kate and only forty-three days to go.
Chapter Thirty-One
Reagan and Ben were married on the rooftop patio of the Oviatt Penthouse in Los Angeles. Reagan wore a simple strapless blush dress with a crystal and beaded overlay made from her mother’s wedding dress. No veil. She was incandescent—subtle makeup she did herself and blonde mermaid-hair piled in a loose bun. There were dragonflies and one crystal frog, compliments of her nieces and nephew, pinned into her bun. Ben wore a bow tie, a vest under his dark navy blazer, and dark tan pants. He decided to shave for the wedding, but wore his glasses, and when everyone stood and Reagan walked toward him, he had to take them off to wipe his eyes.
Reagan made a silly face, as they had agreed she would do if he started to cry, and Ben shared the most brilliant smile Kate had seen in a very long time. Ben’s teeth were a little crooked, so his smile was like a very cool professor, Tom Cruise. When Reagan’s father passed her hand to Ben, she turned toward him and Ben took both of her hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed her as if they were already alone, on some magical street in Venice. A breeze tousled Ben’s hair and Reagan reached up to push it out of his face. Kate looked at the two of them, the wonderful warmth played out in front of her, and she saw a different kind of love. A comfortable, cozy, imperfect, and yet so-perfect love. Kate’s heart opened, softened, that her friend was so clearly happy. Many would say that Ben was good for Reagan, that he gave structure to her crazy artist life, that she finally had to clean the clay out from under her nails when she met Ben, but they would be wrong. Ben loved her clay, even when it ended up splattered on his briefcase, or dried onto her nose when he bent for a goodbye kiss in the morning on his way into the office. Reagan was his “lampshade,” he had once said.
“Before I found you, I was just a bare bulb. You’re my flowery, doily ball, grandma shade, Reagan. You cover me, surround me and defuse my harsh light into something so beautiful,” he added, as he now spoke his vows to her. There wasn’t a dry eye on that rooftop as Ben kissed the bride.
Reagan was a potter. Her work was now pretty famous, she even had one piece in the Guggenheim. She and Ben opened a small gallery of her work last year. Ben was an investment associate at Capital Group. They met at a Forte Foundation community event. Reagan volunteered for the foundation, which promoted opportunities for women through art education and creative healing. Ben was there handing out water bottles when she asked if Capital Group owned stock in water bottles, and shouldn’t they be promoting reusable bottles and less waste? Ben said he was hooked from that moment on. He asked for her number and Reagan opened his hand and wrote her number inside with a Sharpie. Reagan was skeptical when she called to tell Kate she’d met someone. Reagan was always skeptical, until she met Ben.
“He’ll probably never call and then say he washed the number off.”
“He will not. Is that what you were hoping when you wrote your number in a grown man’s hand? Are you self-sabotaging again?”
“No, annoying shrink pers
on, I am not screwing myself. I don’t do that anymore, I simply live alone and avoid things that will send my heart through a meat grinder.”
“That sounds incredibly healthy.”
“Said the kettle. Do you really want to get into healthy?”
Kate had looked around at her new empty apartment and said, “No. But, we aren’t talking about me. So, how did, what’s his name again? Get through your mental security?”
“Ben, his name is Ben, and I don’t know. His eyes are brown. They are sort of big for a guy, and he has a crooked smile. Nice strong hands, chewed nails, which was refreshing for a suit type.” Kate could hear Reagan let out a slow breath. “His shorts had a crease.”
“Wait, you mean like they were ironed?”
“Yeah.”
“Why is this important?”
“He looked so neat, so tidy. I sort of want to mess him up. Maybe tie him to the bed and see what he looks like when he’s—”
“Okay, we can stop there.”
Reagan laughed. “Isn’t that weird? I haven’t had those thoughts in a long time. He was so different, sort of like I’d been drifting around in a sea of people who barely saw me, and then there he was, looking at me, seeing me, and I saw him too. Does that make sense?” Kate nodded and Reagan shook her head. “But, mainly it was the ironed shorts that did it. I want those suckers in a ball on my bedroom floor.”
“Wow. Down girl. Take it easy on the poor guy.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s not going to call. I had that really bad skirt on. The one you call my Janis Joplin skirt. I look thick through the middle in that one, so he’s not calling.”
Kate laughed and mentally agreed that the Joplin skirt was not Reagan’s best look, but she was gypsy beautiful, with long tangly curly blonde hair, and eyes that seemed to only be given out to creative people. Reagan really saw people, looked into them. Kate was sure this poor corporate guy took one look at her and she could have been in a potato sack. Reagan intrigued men, but very few bothered to step close enough and take a chance. Like she said, she was an expert at avoiding. The next day, Ben called and kept calling. They were engaged a year later.