The Falling of Grace (The Falling Series Book 2)

by Marisa Oldham

  “Okay, then, I’m done,” she says, then wraps the remainder of the food.

  Ian quickly rises to his feet so that Grace does not have a chance to try to clean up their mess. He gathers their garbage and runs it to a nearby trashcan, leaving Grace sitting alone on the blanket.

  “You’ve always been a gentleman, Ian. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you so quickly.” Grace smiles up at him from her place on the blanket as soon as he returns.

  With a smile, he offers his hand to help her stand. Purposely, he pulls her up hard enough so that she lands on his chest. He stares into her sparkling, green eyes. “Do you remember the first time this happened?” he whispers, into her ear with a deep, soft breath. “We were at the lake with Brandon and Bailey. It was our first camping trip. I pulled you so hard you slammed into me.”

  “Yeah, those were good times.”

  “We have better days to come,” he says, before putting his mouth on hers.

  Their kiss lasts a long time, attracting the attention of several tourists. Some even stop to snap photographs of them with the Eiffel tower in the background.

  Ian pulls himself away from her and sucks in a deep breath, letting it out he says, “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Ian,” she whispers.

  There is some fear behind her response and Ian feels guilty for the doubt she has looming behind her eyes. Wanting to take it all away, he leans in for another passionate kiss. Ian wraps his arms tightly around her, his hands moving slowly over her back. Breaking away from her, he lifts her up into the air and twirls her around. Grace giggles profusely, and the sound fills his soul with affection for her.

  Ian sets her down gently, takes her face into his strong hands, and stares into her mesmerizing eyes. He brushes his hand over the side of her face and puts her hair behind one of her ears. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Oh, stop that! Knock it off!” Grace says, as she gleams.

  They latch onto each other’s hands and walk back toward Grace’s loft.

  “Speaking of Brandon and Bailey, how are they?”

  “They’re really good. I’m so proud of Bailey. She’s eighteen now. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful she is, Grace.”

  “Oh, I would. She was beautiful back then.”

  “She works at a crisis center in Portland. She helps council children who come from abused homes as part of her internship. She goes to the University of Portland. She has a boyfriend, but she lives with two of her good friends.”

  “Wow! I still think of her as a little girl.”

  Ian reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his wallet. With a smile on his face, he shows Grace the photo of his sister, Bailey. Her long red hair hangs beautifully down both of her shoulders and her eyes that resemble Ian’s, glow with happiness. “She loves what she does and she’s really good at it. Sometimes it’s hard for her because it brings back memories of what we went through, but she gets so much satisfaction from helping those kids.”

  Grace smiles broadly. “To hear such good news about Bailey makes my soul happy. And Brandon?”

  Ian flips through the photographs in his wallet and lands on one of his brother Brandon. “This is his wife, Kerri and their baby, Meredith. They just got married. Brandon works at the factory in Portland.”

  “What?” Grace says, sounding floored. “He’s younger than us!”

  Ian smiles. “They met after we left for L.A. When he moved in with my aunt, they kept in touch. You know how it is in a small town. Kids get married young. We were going to do it.” His heart hurts a little, but he pushes the pain aside.

  “You’re an uncle?” Grace says, running her hand up and down Ian’s arm.

  “Yep. He’s such a good man, Grace. He loves his wife with everything he has and he’s just got a knack for taking care of Meredith.”

  “I’m an auntie! James married a very sweet woman named, Sara, and they have a little girl named Abigail. She’s the light of my life! I don’t get to see her much, but I talk to her on the phone. Well, as good as you can talk to a three-year-old on the phone.”

  “Is she the little girl whose photo you have on your desk?”

  “And on my nightstand, refrigerator, TV stand, and she’s the background on my laptop, too.” Grace laughs.

  “She looks like Michelle. I almost thought she was hers.”

  “Ha! That would be a cold day in hell.”

  “Michelle doesn’t want kids?”

  “Nope. She has a very busy and elusive life. She goes out a lot and she travels a lot. She’s always busy doing something. She doesn’t have time for a child.”

  “It’s not so funny to think that Brandon is married with a kid. Ya know, if I hadn’t screwed things up, we would’ve been married and probably had at least a baby or two by now.”

  Grace stops walking and releases herself from Ian. “Stop,” she says, placing her hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The past is the past. Remember, I don’t live in the past. All that matters is here and now. I don’t want to hear you criticizing or blaming yourself for the mistakes you made back then. You were sick.”

  “I was an asshole.”

  “Ian, I mean it. No more. I forgive you. I love you.” She closes her eyes and places her lips subtly on his cheek.

  “I love you, too, Gracie.”

  They walk together in silence for a while, Ian taking in all the hustle and bustle of the city.

  “How is your mom?” Grace asks, cautiously.

  Ian takes a moment to answer. “She’s good, too. She got married last year to a guy named Bob.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “He’s good to her. He treats her like a queen. My mom is completely different. She’s like a whole new person ever since she left my dad. She’s still frail, but she has had this sense of empowerment ever since she kicked my dad out on his ass. I’m proud of her.”

  “That’s great to hear. I would love to meet her.”

  “And you will.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Ian hates the sadness in his voice, but he cannot hide it. “I love my mom, I do, but it’s been hard. Part of the process of becoming sober and living a healthy life means you have to forgive those that have hurt you. I’ll be honest, I have some resentment toward her for never leaving that asshole while we were living there and being abused, but I’m working on trying to forgive her.”

  “I take it that means you still don’t talk to your dad.”

  “He’s a washed-up alcoholic. Once in a while, he’ll bother my mom since she still lives in Ocean View, but Bob put a stop to that right away. God only knows why, but Brandon still talks to him on holidays.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ian wraps his arm around Grace’s shoulders and pulls her tighter against him. “You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I’m okay.”

  Chapter 6

  Ian and Grace return to Ian’s hotel, once again greeted by a door attendant. When they enter the grand lobby, lights are twinkling everywhere. The chandelier centered above the marble floors illuminates a soft yellow, tinted light, and piano music flows in from the lounge.

  “Wanna get a drink later?” Ian asks.

  “That sounds like fun,” Grace says, smiling.

  “I heard they have a jazz band playing later tonight,” Ian says, as he leads Grace up the grand staircase. “At least that’s what my concierge told me.”

  “Your concierge? There you go, Mr. Hoity-Toity.” Grace says, teasing Ian.

  “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for taking advantage of what’s offered, can you?”

  “No, I can’t.” She grins.

  The courteous man that he is, Ian holds the door to the suite open, as Grace walks into the darkened room. Ian rushes over to flick the lights on and Grace immediately notices two garment bags lying on the king-size bed.

  “What’s this?” she asks, as she walks towards the bed.

  “T
hat’s for us,” he says, smiling, the smirk covering his face. “Apparently the concierge is good for more than just telling me what’s going on in the hotel. They’ll even go shopping for me.”

  She brushes her fingers over one of the garment bags and looks at Ian, curiosity overtaking her. This is a part of Ian that Grace has never known. When they were teenagers, blue collar better described Ian. A hardworking kid, Ian worked many hours fixing cars to provide for him and Grace. On their first date, one of her favorites, he could only afford to buy them a small picnic lunch. Now it seems like he is pretty well set when it comes to money.

  “Go ahead, open it!” he says, in an impatient voice. “I hope you like it.”

  Grace unzips the garment bag to reveal a beautiful evening gown. She pulls the gown from the bag to get a better look at it. The gown looks like it will fit snug against her body. Delicate, black lace covers sheer, cream silk, and the long sleeves will no doubt reach her wrists. A black, satin ribbon adorns the middle of the gown. Down the right side of the shoulder, a rose pattern made from the lace graces the chest of the dress.

  “Ian, this is gorgeous!” she says, twirling around to smile at him.

  “It’ll be even more gorgeous when your body is in it,” he says, as he wraps one of his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. He kisses her softly.

  She stares into his eyes and she is sure her chest will explode from all the love he is showing her. “What’s in your bag?”

  He walks over to the bed, lifts the bag up, and unzips it. “A tux.”

  “Wow, Ian. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in one of those.”

  “Well, you’re about to. Let’s get ready.”

  His and hers bathrooms accommodate the suite, so Grace goes to her bathroom to prepare herself for her date with Ian, and Ian goes to his.

  A little over an hour later Grace hears Ian calling for her from the hallway. Grace’s high heels tap on the marble floors as she moves toward him. He stands in the middle of the hall, attaching cufflinks to the wrists of his dress shirt.

  He lifts his eyes to look at her and he takes a step back. “You look incredible. That dress fits you exactly as I imagined it would. It clings to every curve of your gorgeous body.”

  Grace bows her head bashfully, “Merci. You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome,” she says, smiling, her lips colored a deep burgundy. She walks over to Ian with an air of elegance and smiles at him silently as she straightens his bow tie. She runs her fingers through his long, dark, auburn hair. “You look amazing. You’re more dashing than I ever imagined you would grow up to be.”

  Ian pulls her by her waist with one arm and kisses her on her neck. His warm breath sends chills over her. “I don’t want to mess up your lipstick,” he whispers, into her ear.

  Grace lets out soft, tiny laughs with every kiss that he places on her neck.

  “Are you ready to get this show on the road?” he asks, as he continues to kiss her gently.

  “Yeah, let’s do this so we can get back and spend the rest of the night in bed.”

  “You’re a woman after my own heart, Grace. I hope you’re hungry.” Ian grabs his wallet and the key to his room. He then grabs a clutch bag that matches Grace’s dress and hands it to her. “I put your things in here.”

  Grace shakes her head and smiles. Can he really be this amazing?

  Ian takes her hand and they leave the suite. They are the picture of elegance. His tuxedo is black, the crisp white dress shirt is freshly pressed, and his bowtie, black, is perfectly positioned thanks to Grace. An intricate braid pulls back Grace’s hair, and ends in a bun at the nape of her neck. Blonde strands of her bangs hang gingerly on her forehead and sweep down one of her cheeks. Her face makeup is light and she used just a hint of blush to accentuate her cheekbones. The smoky shadows on her eyelids compliment the dress she is wearing.

  “Your beauty takes my breath away,” Ian says. “I am so lucky to have your love. I’m so lucky that a woman as beautiful, talented, loving, and funny as you would actually want to be with me.” He takes a hold of her hand while they walk down the stairs.

  Grace assumes that they will be dining in the restaurant at the hotel, but is surprised when Ian walks past it, past the lobby, and back out onto the street. He whispers to the door attendant, something Grace is unable to hear. The door attendant nods and then signals to another attendant who is down the block a bit. Moments later a shining, black, Rolls Royce pulls in front of the hotel. A chauffeur steps out of the car, walks around to the back door on the passenger side, and opens the door while he nods at Ian. Ian takes Grace’s hand once more and escorts her to the car.

  She looks at him, completely surprised. “This is for us?” she asks, surprised.

  “Nothing but the best for you,” he says, with a nod and a cool smile.

  Her own smile beams back at him. Okay, he is that amazing.

  Grace runs her hand over the red, leather seat. “This is incredible, Ian.”

  “It’s a 1925.”

  Grace slides in and Ian follows. “I would kill to own a car like this.”

  Bubbles of excitement rush from her stomach into her throat. “I’ve never ridden in a classic car before.”

  “Well, I’m glad we’re experiencing another first together.”

  Grace leans over and kisses Ian on the cheek. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

  Ian pats her thigh, bends his head down, and then looks up with humble eyes.

  The Rolls Royce weaves through the traffic and onto outskirt roads beyond the city. Grace is intrigued when they find themselves on a narrow, cobblestone road in a village that looks medieval. The car pulls up curbside in front of an ancient looking brick building. There is a tiny neon sign in the window that reads Ouvert, with the restaurant’s name, Rosa’s, displayed over the doorway.

  Ian slides out of the car and stands with his hand outstretched to Grace. She takes his hand and she gracefully exits the car. Ian opens the door to the restaurant and she steps in behind him. Elegant Italian music plays softly overhead. The dimly lit restaurant, with candlelight illuminating each table, provides a romantic environment.

  A shorter, portly woman, who definitely looks Italian, rushes up to them smiling. “Bonjour,” she says, reaching for Ian’s hand.

  “Bonjour,” Ian says, in his best French accent.

  He takes the woman’s hand and she cups it with hers. “Mr. Taylor, welcome,” she says, in a thick Italian accent. “I am Rosa.”

  “Hello, Rosa. Thank you for taking my reservation on such short notice.”

  The plump woman waves her hands above her head. “Welcome, welcome!” She turns and motions for them to follow her. She walks them through the dimly lit restaurant to the largest table, kitty-cornered in the back, very secluded from the rest of the guests.

  Despite her not wanting him to, Ian releases Grace’s hand before they scoot into the booth. Their waiter is at their table in a flash asking what they would prefer to drink. Ian reaches for the wine list and scoots closer to Grace.

  “Mmm,” she says. “So many wonderful choices.”

  Ian kisses her on the cheek. “How about the Moscato?”

  “Perfect.”

  The waiter nods at Ian. “Moscato, sir?”

  “Please.”

  “It smells amazing in here,” Grace says, lifting her nose.

  “The concierge said this was the best Italian food in Paris. I know we’re in Paris and we should probably be eating French food, but I was craving Italian. I know you love Italian, too.”

  “Italian is perfect, Ian. Everything is perfect.” She smiles.

  Both of their voices become huskier with the ambiance of the candlelit restaurant, romantic music, and the heavenly aroma of food dancing around them. The arousal between them flickers like a small flame that will quickly turn into a wildfire.

  The waiter returns with two chilled wine glasses and the restaurant’s most expensive bottle of Moscato. He pours the white
wine into their glasses and retreats to an unseen place. Grace sniffs her wine before she sips it. She puts her glass to her lips and takes a tiny sip. The sweet wine tickles her taste buds. “Oh, Ian, this is delicious!”

  Ian takes a sip of his, rolls it around in his mouth, and swallows. “That’s so fucking good.”

  They both laugh. Ian grabs the dinner menu and once again scoots closer to Grace, allowing them to look at the menu together. They look over the menu together. Their stomachs growl simultaneously, and Grace giggles. The outrageous prices on the menu jump out at Grace. She can easily afford them, but she worries if Ian can.

  “They have chicken parmigiana,” Ian says, pointing to the menu.

  “You remember that’s my favorite?”

  “I remember everything,” he says, before kissing her on the cheek. “Everything that’s important, that is.”

  “Look, Ian, they have cheese tortellini in a cream sauce for you.”

  He smiles. “Looks like I’m not the only one who remembers the good times.”

  “Of course you’re not.” Grace sips on her white wine and with a distinct, delicate movement, she licks her burgundy lips, savoring the fruity flavor of the wine. Ian dips the tip of his finger into the wine and then traces the rim of his glass, making it sing. The passion between the two of them fills the entire restaurant with an invisible warm glow. Grace takes another sip of her wine and licks her lips again. Ian slides his hand over the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. Their tongues move over each other, tasting the wine in each other’s mouths.

  Holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres that Ian ordered, the waiter clears his throat. They look at each other and smile like teenagers, as if they were caught in the act of doing something they should not be doing.

  “Thank you,” Ian says, as he nods at the waiter.

  The waiter sets their hors d’oeuvres down on the table, and the amount of food amazes Grace. She mouths to Ian, “Wow!” The food she eats is indescribable by words. Her pallet is infused with spices and rich Italian flavors. Grace has lived in Paris for a few years and had never even heard of Rosa’s and it is the best food she has put in her mouth since she has lived there.