Awakening to You (Awakening Trilogy #3)

by Fifi Flowers

  “Are you okay, Drake? You’re so quiet.” Sofie ran her fingertip over my forearm as we looked out over a stream, running in the valley below.

  I wanted to turn. I wanted to look at her, but I was afraid to gaze into those green eyes of hers, when I broke the news. “I told you about the theatre, the one in my office…” No time like the present, I had to spill all now. “My drawings are finally going to become a reality.”

  As I paused to search my next words, she questioned, “What? I thought you designed that?”

  Shaking my head, I grasped her hand, pulling her to a big rock. Leaning against it, I spread my legs. I loved how she moved right in between. Wrapping my arms around, I took in a deep breath. “I didn’t think you were listening to me that day in my office. Now, I know I was right.”

  As Sofie let out a light laugh, I bent toward her, capturing her lip between my teeth. Lightly tugging, I felt her tongue skim my mouth. I was ready to devour her right then and there, but she leaned back, and I was suddenly sorry that I had started this conversation.

  “Alright. I will confess. I wasn’t listening to you. I find it hard to concentrate at times while I’m looking at you…” Her fingers were playing with my hair. I wanted to rewind. Fast forward. “I did make a mental note to search the internet for the building…” God, she smelled… oh, so good. It was my turn—I was the one not paying attention. “I’m sorry. I have another confession. I forgot.”

  “You forgot what?”

  “You’re not listening to me, now.” She smiled, slapping my chest. I pulled her closer, hugging her tightly, up against my body. “I said I forgot to research the theatre.”

  “You would’ve never found it.” I rested my chin on top of her head as I continued. “Well, that’s not entirely true. You may have found the original building, but not the renderings on my wall. Those were solely my vision.”

  Softly she commented, “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you. They are what I imagined when I came across an abandoned, Boston theatre, when I first started working at the firm. I visited it on several more occasions. Photographed it at every angle. Back in the office, I began to sketch ideas. I did research. Got blueprints. I even gained access to the inside with my father’s help. It was a mess. It is a mess. Worse than the first time I saw it.” I stopped to place a kiss on the top of her head. The hard part was drawing near. A lump in my throat. “It became my obsession when I wasn’t working on regular jobs. Once I was satisfied, I showed everything to Patrick. He was impressed. I think it was my gateway; the deciding factor to me becoming a partner in the firm. Anyway, he secured a meeting with City officials. We presented the plans. We were denied for years, until…”

  “Until?” She tried to look up at me. I kept her tucked into me.

  “About six weeks ago . . . maybe seven. The City of Boston gave us the green light. They were finally allowing the building to be updated. Renovated. Actually they had no choice, when a portion fell. The possibility of a lawsuit, not to mention, the loss of the historical site, was not something they wanted to deal with. Luckily, they were also willing to waive some of their strict policies about the exterior renovations. This would give way to some of my designs. Of course, we would keep the same integrity… My firm partners knew, based on my extensive drawings, I was the one to head the project. My love of the building…” Deep breath. “I . . . I couldn’t turn it down… I can’t walk away…”

  “Was that why I found you in the studio? With drawings spread all around?” She pulled back. This time I knew I had to let her, even though; I didn’t want to see the look in her face. I nodded.

  “You’re already deep in…” Her voice was shaky.

  “Sofie,” I moved my hands up to hold her face in my hands. “I love you. I don’t want to leave you, but Hollywood’s not for me. I’m going home.”

  She reached up and held my wrists. “I understand . . . I do.”

  “This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you.” I rested my forehead on hers. The look in her eyes was killing me. “In the same breath, I would never ask you to walk away from your life . . . your career, here. I’ve been trying to figure out a way for us to make this work. I’ve been in LA for a year.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “God, Sofie, it has been the best and the worst time of my life. I miss my life in Boston. I can’t lie. I have a company I need to get back to. My time is up. As much as I don’t want to leave you, I have to.”

  I thought I would die on the spot, when she leaned back. Looking at me with glassy eyes, her bottom lip tucked under her top one, she nodded her head. Then stroking my cheek with her hand, she reassured me. She comforted me. “I understand. I really do.”

  “We will make this work. I promise. We are not saying goodbye.” I pulled back into my arms. I never wanted to let go.

  “I’ll come visit. You can give me more lessons in architecture,” she laughed softly.

  “Fair warning, if you ever come to Boston, I don’t think I will ever let you go. I love you so much, Sofie.”

  “Don’t tell me, show me.”

  “Right here? Right now?” I asked, grinning.

  Lifting her head, she spoke, staring up at me. “Yes. Out in the open.” Reaching up, she wrapped her fingers around my neck, pulling my face to hers. “Show me . . . show everyone how much you love me.”

  Excepting her invitation, I attacked her mouth and she counterattacked. Our kiss was frantic with teeth, tongues, and moans. I couldn’t get her undressed quick enough. We could’ve been discreet, but I needed to feel all of her. Her skin on mine. Her breasts against my chest. My cock against her mound. Lifting her up, she wrapped her legs around my waist and I plunged in. Rocking into her, feeling her body tighten around me, I didn’t give a fuck who was around as I united our bodies. They could arrest me for indecent exposure—lewd acts in public, but they would have to wait until I finished. I was willing to be charged further with resisting arrest. It would be worth it. Every fine I would have to pay. Every courtroom I would have to visit. I did my best to show Sofie just how much I loved every inch of her.

  Luck was on our side, not another soul was spotted in the vicinity as we came down from our high. Dressed once again, we made our way back to the car, and eventually to our hotel room where we remained for the rest of the weekend. Fueled by room service, I continued to express my love for Sofie over and over again to the point of, blissful, exhaustion. Exploring every nook and cranny of her body, claiming every part of her—she was completely mine. By Sunday afternoon, we practically crawled out of our room, to make our way home. Driving, I wished that we had arranged transportation with a driver.

  For the next few weeks, Sofie and I spent every moment together. She poured over scripts in the studio while I worked on my project. I loved her interest in every aspect of my upcoming job. I secretly wished that she would work with me on it. Yet, I could not say those words. I could not pressure her. Make her feel guilty. I just enjoyed our time together.

  The morning of my departure, I told her I couldn’t bear saying goodbye at the airport, a car had been hired. She begged me to cancel. Promised she wouldn’t make a scene. “No crying, I promise,” she said. However, I couldn’t promise that. I had been choking back tears since I told her I was leaving. Giving in to my decision, she walked me outside, holding my hand tightly. Stopping in front of the opened car door, I took her in my arms, crushing my mouth to hers. Such sweet lips, I would miss. Reluctantly, I let her go. Then, with tears in both of our eyes, I turned and climbed into my waiting town-car.

  Chapter Eight

  Sofie…

  Sitting at my lonely, kitchen nook table, looking at a stack of scripts, things felt so wrong. His seat was empty. I was empty. I couldn’t believe it. Everything I ever wanted was right at my fingertips. Finally, I was receiving jobs offers I had only ever dreamt about. I was being commended on my work. I should’ve b
een overjoyed. Yet, I craved, I desired . . . I loved living with Drake more. I missed him, I ached for him . . . I longed for my lavender-eyed man. Sighing heavily, I took a sip of my iced coffee. Iced coffee. It was Fall, I should’ve been drinking hot chocolate, hot tea . . . hot coffee, but it was nearly one hundred degrees. Typical LA weather. What I was used to, not what I wanted.

  Looking out my window, I observed lush greenery, and I wondered what color the trees were in The Commons. Were they changing already? Were the leaves decorating the park; littering the grass, the pavement . . . the pond? Were children collecting them? Were they building piles of them? Were they jumping in them? Listening to the sound of their crunchy noise? I closed my eyes. I envisioned the smiles on their tiny faces. Such delight. I could hear the laughter. I smiled to myself. Then I felt the tears that flowed from my eyes cascading down my cheeks.

  The thoughts, the daydreams—they weren’t enough. No, I needed to experience them, first hand. I needed to be with Drake. He said we would work it out. He loved me. I loved him. We would see each other, when we could. We would savor every moment we could. I didn’t want moments. I wanted every day. Yet, here I sat, all alone. Looking around my house, I hated it—everything about it. It was cold. It was not me. It was a stop. It was temporary. Not like us. I wanted warmth. I wanted us. I wanted always . . . forever.

  What was I doing? We had to make this work. I had to make this work. I couldn’t ask him to stay—to give up his dream. He had sacrificed for me. He had compromised his company for me. He had pulled strings. Now, it was my turn. I couldn’t lose him. I had to do something. Suddenly, it was clear to me; I knew what I needed to do. With my decision made, I picked up the phone, and got busy, making calls.

  First, I went behind his back as he did to me. Turnabout was fair play. I contacted Patrick, a partner of his I had met on a few occasions, in the architectural firm. I asked that he keep our conversation private. I explained my situation with Drake. I also told him what he had done for me. Some, of which, he already knew since Drake had asked for a leave of absence a little over a year ago. Making a bold move, I inquired about securing a position on Drake’s dream theatre project. Knowing that I had a theatrical design background, Patrick was quick to offer me the position of theatre expert advisor. They had been looking for someone who knew what theatre groups would require to make a fully functional setting: the stage, the acoustic, the backstage needs, lighting, etc., etc.

  “Sign me. Send me the contract. I’m yours. But, please allow me to tell Drake. I prefer to remain anonymous until I have everything lined up.”

  I heard a belly-ache laugh escape Patrick’s lips, along with the words, “With great pleasure. Do as you will.”

  Once I learned more about the steps they were taking, it was easy to see that I could work from my home while I got things in order. They faxed, emailed, and messengered me copies of drawings, sketches, and photos. With my camp set up in my studio, I began to research, study, and make notes. During this time, between designing for Drake, I tied up loose ends. I contacted David about my decision, regarding production design job. I hired Gracee’s company to sell my house because, of course, she had taken off for San Francisco again. I really need to find out more about her situation, I thought as I took inventory of what was in my home. I had to decide what I wanted and what I didn’t for my bold and exciting new adventure—my new future.

  I felt so happy, every morning that I woke up. I was thrilled to be hired, quietly. I loved that the firm had informed Drake that they went ahead and secured a theatre expert. They let him know that the new hire would be looking over his prior work. They said they thought that he would enjoy working with the expert. At this time, communication would need to be via email until the expert could make arrangements to relocate. I loved the idea of him moaning about them going over his head. It was wonderful, knowing I was right when he complained to me during one of our nightly conversations. I had to bite my lip, trying not to laugh. One night, he pushed me to the edge; I almost confessed.

  Drake was telling me all about his events of the day. Then he let words slip from his mouth that would’ve killed me, had I not already secured my position. Although, in the very same breath, I adored them, too. “I start work soon with the theatre expert. I’m really not looking forward to it. I keep thinking, he won’t be you. My greatest wish would’ve been to hire you for the position.” A big sigh could be heard as he continued. “I’m sorry, Sofie. I shouldn’t put that guilt on you. I know I could never ask you to give up your career to help me.”

  I was smiling on the outside, knowing he would be getting his wish, but on the inside I had a tightness in my chest. This conversation was bringing me to tears. I felt terrible, stringing him along. I had to hang up abruptly. It truly pained me to keep the secret from him. Hearing such sadness in his voice. I had to tell myself, “Hang in there, the end result would be worth it.”

  Once my first problem was solved and the solution was moving along smoothly, I had to move on to my next obstacle or challenge. I would need someone who knew Drake well. His father seemed to be the logical choice. I had met Charles a couple of times in the last year. Once, when we visited him on the Cape and once, when he and his wife, Vivian, had a layover in LA before going on to Hong Kong. We got along quite well. He was very easy to speak to, and he had told me thank you for coming into his son’s life. Sounded like he would be willing to help me put my plans into motion. Some of which, I would need inside information.

  With a little apprehension, I got the courage to call his father at his auction house. He was very cordial and polite, letting me outline what I had done, along with my overall idea. To my utter delight, and I believe his, he agreed to assist me. I breathed a big sigh of relief when he said yes. A bit of a surprise, however, was when I received the offer of a place to stay. Along with this acceptance came daily phone calls from his wife. She updated me with details about how things were going on their end. As each day passed, I grew more eager to get there, as well as nervous. I think the reassurance from Charles and Vivian helped calm me and the fact that she told me constantly, “We can hardly wait until you arrive. Drake is miserable.” The second part of her reminder was making me feel warm and fuzzy. I still felt bad about deceiving him.

  The night I touched down at Logan Airport, in Boston, is when things finally seemed real. The weeks before, I functioned in a complete fog. I was focused on making everything right. Some days, I had forgotten to eat. Some nights, I barely slept. My mind was forever reeling, working on overtime. I didn’t realize what I was doing to my body until I saw the look on Vivian’s face. “Oh, my dear, we need to fatten you up. Those bags under your eyes? Not sure who looks worse, you or Drake.”

  How did it not hit me? She was right; my clothes were hanging on me. It took someone telling me. I was suddenly exhausted. Overcome by emotions, I burst into tears when her arms encircled me. I hadn’t seen Drake in a few weeks. I missed him. I was tired of our little visits. I couldn’t do a weekend here and there. Going back and forth was killing me. Since we met, almost a year and a half ago, we had had a series of goodbyes. Too many uncertainties. I wasn’t willing to do it anymore. Hence: my big decision. Being there, in the airport, on that very night, it hit me hard and the dam of relief broke.

  Over that weekend, I was nurtured and pampered. I slept ten hours the first night, eight the next two nights. When I was awake: breakfast, lunch and dinner were catered to me—everything delicious. Along with food and sleep, a day at a lovely health spa was provided. I was groomed from top to bottom, compliments of Charles and Vivian. By the time Monday morning rolled around, my first day of meetings with Patrick, on the actual job site, I felt like a new person.

  Hailing a taxi to the theatre, we drove right in front of Drake’s place. Silly me almost ducked as if he would notice me. He had no idea I was in Boston. I spoke to him this morning, as usual. He told me his plans for the day. I told him semi-truths. He was going to be in meetings all
day. I said me too. “New project, again?” he asked in a strange voice. I was worried he was catching on. However, his voice hinted at anger? Unhappiness? Not sure, but different.

  “Yes. Meeting with some key players, today. Things should get moving soon.” I tried to be vague and upbeat.

  “Good for you…” I heard him cover the phone, speaking to someone in the office. “Gotta run, Sofie… Have a good day… Hope you get what you want.”

  I was taken aback by his tone. What had happened? “You have a good day, too. I miss you.”

  “Okay, bye.” Just like that, he hung up. No “I miss you too.” He didn’t even allow me enough time to me “goodbye.” The worst part was no “I love you.” Something we had been saying on a regular basis.

  I needed to hurry up my final plan. First, I met with Patrick, another partner, and a few of the crew members. They showed me around the theatre: outside, seating areas on all three levels, the stage and backstage. Next, they rolled out the final plans which they designed, taking into consideration, my drawings and suggestions. The project was massive. It would be stunning when all was said and done. Drake’s dream theatre was going to be a reality, and I was thrilled to be a part of it. At the end of our meeting, Patrick treated me to a lovely lunch. We laughed and joked that we could add espionage to our resumes. It was funny, at the time, but then it hit me. What was Drake going to think? More so, what was up with him and his attitude? I had one part of my plan down; I need to devise the big one.

  Later that evening, I had dinner with Vivian. Charles called to say that he needed to meet with Drake, whom never responded to my texts the rest of the day. I felt like crying. I knew I had not made a mistake; taking the job, coming to Boston, but maybe the way I was coming into his life was not the right approach. I couldn’t second guess, at this point. I had to move forward. The question was, how would I surprise him?