Michelle shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “I love Jaden, but I just don’t know what to say. Have you called him?”
Grace shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk to him. This is…he’s…I mean, first what happened with us. I know it was years ago and I’m over it, but first Jaden sleeps with me, tells me he loves me, and then tells me we’d never work out. That was hard enough to forgive and now this whole time he’s been lying to me about Ian. I’m just too pissed to talk to him right now.”
“Aren’t you curious why,” Michelle whispers, as she leans in closer to Grace. “I mean, don’t you want to know his reasons for lying? Why he didn’t tell you that he knew where Ian was—”
Grace interrupts Michelle. “Knew where Ian was? Come on, Missy, I’ve told you a hundred times now, they’ve been living in the same house! It’s more than just knowing where he was.”
Michelle backs away from Grace, grabs her wine glass, and takes a large swig. Her lips part as she stares at Grace with eyes as large as saucers. “I can’t believe this. I’m dumbfounded. How did Ian find you?”
“He found a box of letters that I wrote to Jaden,” Grace says, with a heavy winded breath, fighting back the tears once again. “I feel so betrayed and completely confused.”
“Oh, honey, it had to be so hard for you to see Ian after all these years,” Michelle says, as she rests her hand on Grace’s knee.
“You have no idea,” Grace’s words are barely audible. “It’s as if everything I’ve worked so hard to push away for all these years just came rushing back. Ever since he sat next to me this morning, I just can’t get Ian out of my mind.”
Michelle takes a deep breath, places her wine glass on the table, and gently takes Grace’s glass from her. Taking both of Grace’s hands into hers, she stares into Grace’s burning eyes with her bright blue ones. “It’s normal for you to feel this way, Grace. You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to block out your emotions. In fact, right here, right now, this is the time for you to explode. Have a mental meltdown. This is some seriously crazy shit!”
Grace shakes her head. “I am not going to allow that to happen. I’m perfectly happy with my life! I don’t need Ian Taylor showing up unexpectedly to stir things up. It’s ridiculous!” Grace leaps from the sofa and rushes into her bathroom. Staring in the mirror, she splashes cold water onto her face.
“Well, I guess I’ll finish this wine,” Michelle yells from the living room.
“Go for it, I’m finished,” Grace says, as she walks out of the bathroom. “Are you going to spend the night?”
“Yeah, I’ll just finish this and crash on the couch since you got rid of my bed,” says Michelle, with a glare.
“You moved out. That’s what happens when you move out. Your stuff gets moved with you.” Grace manages a smile.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michelle says, as she lies back on the couch with her wine glass in her hand.
Grace snickers and disappears behind the partition that separates her bedroom from the rest of her loft.
“Are we done talking?” Michelle calls out.
“Yeah, I’m going to bed. I just need some rest.”
“I love ya, sis. Everything will be okay.”
“Je t'aime trop.”
The next morning, Grace hears tapping at her front door. Thinking it might be Ian, Grace holds her breath and pulls the covers up underneath her chin.
“Ugh, what time is it?” Grace hears Michelle grumble from the living room.
Grace listens as Michelle shuffles to the front door, no doubt with an afro of fluffy, brown curls in complete disarray. The door flings open, and Grace turns her ear toward it to hear better.
“Rise and shine, kittens!”
Grace lets out a sigh of relief and smiles. “Whew! It’s only Becca.” She lies back onto her pillow, and her body releases all the tension that it had built up.
Despite her character flaws and a falling out they had years ago, Grace loves Becca Faraday, her best friend.
“Ugh, Becca! It’s eight-thirty,” Michelle growls.
Becca’s shoes, no doubt a few inches too high on the heels, rapidly tap across the loft floor and into the kitchen. “I absolutely could not wait for our girl’s day today.”
“Becca, I don’t do eight-thirty.”
“Silly girl, yes you do! We have plans. Now, go and get your sister up and let’s get going! Come on, ta ta, let’s go!”
“Quit waving your hand at me!”
Grace smiles at the irritation in Michelle’s voice. Although they secretly adore each other, outwardly Michelle and Becca pretend they cannot stand one another. Grace knows that it was hard for Michelle to accept Grace’s friendship with Becca after the way Becca treated Grace when she was with Ian. Ian’s drug problem not only destroyed Grace’s relationship with him, but it temporarily annihilated her friendship with Becca, who refused to stand by and watch Grace endure his addiction.
They went four years without speaking, until the day Grace bumped into her at their mutual modeling agency. Grace had dreaded the day she knew would come when she would run into Becca at the agency. After all, Becca told Grace about Select. She had always imagined that Becca would snub her and completely ignore her, but it did not happen quite that way.
It did not take Grace very long to come around to being friendly with Becca again. She let go of the past and was grateful for the friend she had in the future. Eventually, the two of them became closer than they had ever been. Everything made sense to Grace once Becca told her stories of models she shared apartments with becoming addicted to drugs and all the chaos and heartache it brought Becca. After a lot of groveling, Grace finally forgave Becca.
“I’m not sure Grace is up to girl’s day out,” Michelle says to Becca.
“Why not?” Becca asks. “What happened?”
“I’ll go get in the shower. You go wake up Grace, and you ask her if she still wants to go. If she wants to tell you what happened, she will.”
Grace hears Michelle pad her way into the bathroom, leaving Becca alone in the kitchen. “I’m awake,” she calls out.
Becca strolls into Grace’s bedroom. “It’s eight thirty-five. You know, five minutes past the time we agreed to meet so that we could enjoy our girl’s day out. Why aren’t you up?”
“Becca, I had a messed up day yesterday and a long night. I might be slightly hung over to top it all off. I think I’ll just stay home,” Grace says, as she pulls her blanket over her head.
“Grace Hathaway, we have been planning our girl’s day out for over two weeks. I’ve been patiently waiting for Michelle to get back from Spain. What do you mean you do not feel like going out? Sérieusement levez-vous!” Becca gasps while motioning at Grace to get out of bed.
“I don’t want to get up.” Grace slowly pulls her blankets from her face.
“Oh dear, you did have a bad night. You’ve got hideous dark circles under those pretty, green eyes. What happened?”
Becca’s question brings up all of Grace’s anxiety from the day before, seeing Ian again, all of Jaden’s lies, and all her emotions she keeps locked deep in her heart. Her life from five years ago hangs on the edge of her current existence, threatening to crash down and destroy her.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Grace pushes herself up in her bed. “I need coffee first.”
“I’ll go make it,” Becca says, as she jumps up from the bed.
Grace follows her and plops down on the couch.
Michelle emerges from the bathroom wearing a pair of black shorts and a white tank top. The towel on her curly hair creates a massive crown upon her head. “Are you alright?” Michelle asks, as she sits next to Grace on the sofa.
Becca rushes over barely able to carry the three cups of coffee. She places them on the coffee table and scoots her way in-between Grace and Michelle.
“So, tell me what happened?” Becca asks, laying her hand on Grace’s knee.
The stench of old alcohol seeps from Grace’s lips. “Ian is in Paris,” she says with a somber, grief-filled tone.
“Your ex?” Becca yells.
“Yes.” Grace sighs.
“He showed up at the café yesterday when Grace was having her morning coffee,” Michelle interjects.
“We don’t know much besides the fact that he found a photo of me and Missy and letters from me to Jaden at Jaden’s house. Apparently he’s been living with Jaden this whole time,” Grace says, in an amazingly calm tone.
Speechless, Becca’s mouth falls open.
Grace tells Becca about Ian showing up at her loft and Becca listens with her hand covering her mouth. Grace takes sips of her coffee, and it warms her cold body.
“Grace, why don’t you get ready?” Michelle asks, attempting to change the subject.
Grace nods at Michelle and rises from the couch.
They spend their girl’s day together picnicking in the park, visiting a beauty salon, and joining some of their male companions for a casual dinner. Becca has a hot date with a photographer, and Michelle’s boyfriend François showed up with Estefan, a model who Grace has a fling with now and then.
Throughout the dinner, Grace’s thoughts kept returning to Ian and how gorgeous he looked.
“Grace, where are you?” Estefan asks with his thick and sultry Spanish accent.
“Sorry.” She smiles, and then places her hand on top of his. “It’s been a long day.”
Estefan leans in close to her ear. “Maybe you need me to take you home and help you relieve some tension? Yeah?” His hot breath tickles her neck.
“Not tonight. I just need some sleep.” Normally a sensual proposal such as this would make Grace weak in the knees. She would have him back at her loft as soon as they could break away, but she decided to return home without him before he even asked her. No matter how much she tries to push Ian out of her mind, she cannot, and she does not feel it is fair to be with another man when Ian has taken over her emotions.
Grace does not return to her apartment until late that evening. Estefan was able to talk her into a couple more glasses of wine, no doubt trying to loosen her up to get her to change her mind about bringing him home. She had long ago decided to go home alone.
The elevator doors open and from where Grace stands she can see a folded piece of paper attached to her front door with tape. As she approaches the door, she prays to God that the note is from one of the young men she has been dating and not Ian. She slowly peels the paper from the door as the tape clings to it. Her stomach twists into knots as she unfolds the note.
Gracie,
I’ll only be in the city for a couple weeks. I know that it’s shocking to see me. Please just talk to me. There are things I need to say to you in person. I know it’s been a while. I understand that you’ve moved on with your life.
Please call me.
Ian
Ian’s number sits at the bottom of the note in his familiar handwriting. Without thinking, Grace brings the paper to her nose and inhales it attempting to see if it smells like his cologne. To her delight, it does. He smells the same.
Ian’s words from the past come rushing into her mind. “No, what ifs, babe. I’ll be okay. Besides, I’ll have my watch dog there to look after me.” Ian was getting ready for a show with his band Black Dog when he said this to her. Meant to assure her that even though he was fresh from a grueling detox that he would not fall off the wagon, he still did. Later that night, Grace caught Ian with his pants down around his ankles and a blonde giving him a blowjob.
Grace pulls her key from her purse and then slides it into her door and enters her dark, cold, and quiet loft. She follows her usual routine of discarding her purse and keys on her French style glass table. Already exhausted from her day with Becca and Michelle, the wine she had at dinner makes her body feel warm and woozy. Physical exhaustion that makes her eyelids heavy, but the emotions she has tried to handle for the last day weigh down on her far more. She walks to her kitchen and pulls out a carton of milk, empties some into a pot, adds chocolate mix, and warms it. Ian’s note lies on her counter where she placed it, taunting her, tempting her to call him.
Grace walks over to the note lying on her counter, her mug filled with hot cocoa in one hand as she reaches for Ian’s note with the other. Holding the paper in her trembling hand, memories rush through her mind. The memories of her and Ian when they were young and in love, happy and carefree, bring a smile to her face. Ian’s reappearance has brought up too many emotions that Grace has been fighting to keep hidden deep inside her heart for so long. Grace shakes her head slowly as she takes in longwinded, deep breaths. She crumples up the note and throws it in her wastebasket. Slouching down on her couch, she flicks on the television and decides she will concentrate on a show to make her laugh rather than on Ian’s note.
The next morning, she has plans to meet Michelle at the café, but first she stops at the art gallery to collect her commission. A much-needed distraction came in the form of an early morning call from Sophie, the art gallery owner, telling Grace that four of her paintings sold.
A bell at the top of the gallery door jingles as Grace steps through the doorway.
“Bonjour, Grace!” Sophie says. A smile reaches her twinkling dark eyes as she walks toward Grace with her arms outstretched. Sophie has her long, gray hair pulled back into a braid that hangs over her shoulder.
“Bonjour, Sophie.” Grace returns her smile.
“Congratulations!”
Grace beams back. “Merci.”
“I can’t believe all your paintings sold in one day,” Sophie says, in a thick French accent. Sophie reaches into her apron covered in paint and pulls out a large envelope filled with money.
“I’ll have to work on some new paintings to fill my empty slots,” Grace says, as she takes the envelope, amazed at its heaviness.
“That would be wonderful. Your work is très belle!” Sophie says, as she waves her hand around in the air over her head.
“I’ll get some new work to you by next week. I better get going. My sister is waiting at the café. Would you like me to bring you something on my way back home?”
“S’il vous plaît. You’re such a sweet girl, Grace.”
“There’s nothing to it. I’ll already be there. Plus, you did a great job selling all my paintings.” Grace hugs Sophie and then heads for the café.
Grace takes her usual seat at the wrought iron table at the outdoor café and looks around for Michelle.
A slender, dark-haired waiter saunters up to Grace. “The usual, mademoiselle?”
“S’il vous plaît. Merci.”
The waiter rushes off to get Grace her order. Grace lays her purse and sunglasses on the table and returns to searching for Michelle. She spots her walking toward the table. Michelle has a silk scarf over her head covering her normally wild curls and a pair of Grace Kelly style sunglasses.
“You look gorgeous, mon amour! You straightened your hair.” Bending down, Michelle kisses each of Grace’s cheeks and Grace does the same to her.
“Yeah, I felt like taming the beast this morning.”
Michelle removes her large rimmed sunglasses and her blue eyes shine. “That spread we did hit the stands this morning.”
“The nudie one?” Grace asks with a smirk.
“Yeah. I didn’t have time to stop and pick up the magazine, but I can’t wait to see it,” Michelle says, as she waves to the waiter to bring her usual order.
Grace only smiles, excited to see the spread her and her sister created together.
“So, have you heard from Ian?”
“He left a note on my door last night begging me to call him. He needs to talk to me in person,” Grace says, rolling her eyes. “What a crock of shit. Who does he think he is?”
“Well, let’s change the subject. Your face is turning all red and those lips are puffing out. Not a good look for you.”
Grace and Michelle dive into a conversation abo
ut photography and the industry they work in. The conversation, another welcome distraction from thoughts of Ian, but in the middle of their discussion, Michelle looks past Grace.
“Uh oh,” Michelle says, under her breath as she raises her arm and extends her finger.
Grace flips around in her chair and sees that a few feet away from her, his auburn hair slightly blowing from the morning breeze, looking like a rock n’ roll sex god, stands Ian. She immediately notices that Ian’s hair has grown out a bit since they were younger, to just past his shoulders. The light auburn color has darkened and it looks nourished as the sun’s rays bounce off each highlight. My Ian is a man, she thinks, her breath taken away. He’s no longer a skinny, drug addicted, washed up teenager. He is absolutely freakin’ gorgeous.
Ian approaches them cautiously, his hands tucked deep into his pockets and a weary smile on his face.
Michelle snickers, “Who are you?”
Ian laughs and says, “I’m Ian. She’s Sorry. Can I sit here?”
Even Grace cannot help but to giggle just a little at the recited words that Ian and Michelle just spoke. The exchange matched the one they had on the first day the three of them met, seven years ago.
“No, really, do you mind if I sit?”
Grace stiffens, folds her arms against her chest, and rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
“What do you girls recommend to drink here?” he asks, his normally confident tone wavering.
“She likes un café avec du lait et de la glace,” Michelle answers. “Make sure you order it with ice or you won’t get any. I get an espresso.”
“I have no idea what you just said. I caught something about coffee and milk.”
“That’s exactly what I said. One coffee with milk and ice,” Michelle says, smiling.
Grace huffs at the casual chitchat. She lets out an exasperated sigh, leans onto the table like a cat seeking its prey, and stares Ian down. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?” she says, as slowly and coldly as she can.
The Falling of Grace (The Falling Series Book 2) Page 2
