Designed

by Alicia Renee Kline

  Chris removed my pants the rest of the way, pulling the fabric pooled at my feet down to the floor. He then worked at the zipper on my sweatshirt, opening it excruciatingly slow to reveal the tank top underneath. His arms lifted me up from the mattress as he stripped me of my shirts. A look of pleasure crossed his face as he laid me gently back down, dressed only in my bra and underwear. Thank goodness I hadn’t gone totally grungy for the day - at least they matched and were a lacy purple ensemble.

  “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I smiled up at him.

  One eyebrow raised as he considered my offer. “I didn’t bring my phone in here, or else I might.”

  He hovered over me, taking his index finger and running it down my chest into my cleavage. I felt my nipples harden yet again under the cover of my bra. A shiver ran through my entire body, causing him to grin back at me.

  “No fair,” I protested, “you’ve still got all of your clothes on.”

  He looked down as if to confirm. “Yep. I guess I do.”

  “Well, come here and let me fix that problem.”

  I scrambled to my knees on the bed and began to undress him, taking the same seductive approach as he had with me. I started from the top, sliding my fingers underneath his shirt and toying with his warm flesh for a second before lifting the cotton garment up and over his head. Free from my grasp, it fell off of his shoulder and to the floor with a quiet thump. I stared unmercifully at his bare chest, still almost as perfect as I remembered it. He wasn’t quite as toned as when he’d subjected himself to the rigors of daily football workouts, but his six pack was still very much evident.

  Before I went to work on his jeans, I entwined my hands around his neck and pulled myself closer to him. Deliberately, I brushed my breasts against his skin, enjoying the ragged breath he let out at their touch. I pressed myself into him further as my lips found his, then parted them until my tongue entered his mouth. He moaned with desire, the sound echoing in my head.

  I took that as my cue to move lower, my fingers finding his waistband and unbuttoning his fly. My eyes closed, still lost in his kiss, I unzipped by feel alone, not that he minded. The denim resisted slightly, though a quick push from my hands convinced them to slide down his legs. Instinctively, he stepped out of them without breaking away from me.

  All that separated us from acting fully upon a decade’s worth of fantasies were mere layers of fabric covering our most intimate regions. Instead of hurrying the process, I chose to delay it even more, letting the passion build until we both couldn’t stand it any longer. We were close, but still not there.

  In a swift motion, I moved my lips to his neck and ran my tongue from his shoulder up to his chin as I reached down and grabbed him through his boxers. Even through the underwear, I could feel the blood flowing, could feel how much he wanted me.

  “Oh, God, Blake,” he muttered, “can’t you feel what you do to me?”

  In response, I took his hand and placed it against the small piece of satin that constituted my thong. “Likewise.”

  We fell backwards against the mattress, Chris finally mounting the much discussed bed. At first, he seemed hesitant with the shape, but once he gathered his bearings his focus was right back where it needed to be. Our bodies laced but still not completely naked, we kissed for a few more minutes, relishing the moment about to unfold.

  As if it was happening to someone else, my bra and panties somehow found their way to the carpet, along with his boxer shorts. Then we were only wrapped in one another, our desire coming over us in waves. We made love slowly, the knowledge that we were years older than before allowing us to take our time. No more hurried dalliances before our parents came home; we had all the time in the world to explore and enjoy each other.

  I caught my reflection in the mirror above my dresser as he lifted me into position atop him. The voyeur in me typically didn’t appear, but I couldn’t ignore the flush of my skin, the blissful countenance that I saw. I didn’t need a visual to know the feeling that radiated in my core - this was the only place I ever wanted to be, the only man I ever wanted to love. One look in Chris’s eyes told me he felt the same towards me.

  Nothing was said when it was over - there was no need. I draped myself over him, our hearts pressed against each other as though they were beating in unison. I breathed his air, slowly drawing him inside my lungs. With one hand, he held me tightly against him, the other clutched mine possessively. I squeezed back as hard as I could, not caring if my fingers went numb from lack of circulation.

  After all these years of yearning for him, of imaging him here, the beauty of reality far exceeded the dream.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Wake up, Gracie.”

  I thrust open the door to Lauren’s guest bedroom, knowing she was inside. Doug had made his bed on her pullout couch and besides, he was already awake. There was no surprising everyone’s favorite father figure with my unexpected arrival; he’d pulled open the front door to allow Chris and me passage even before I’d grabbed my key out of my purse. The two of them sat in the kitchen, making small talk while I was charged with the formidable task of dragging the best friend out of bed.

  “Gracie.” I said again, this time even louder.

  “What?” came the less than enthusiastic response from the bed. Obviously not caring about the answer, she pulled the pillow over her head. I wrestled it away from her despite a spirited protest. “Jesus fucking Christ, where’s the fire?”

  “It’s going to be under your ass if you don’t get it out from under that blanket,” I warned.

  “Who came in and appointed you my mother?”

  I shrugged. “Me, I guess. Now, get up and get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

  Gracie sat up, wrapping the comforter around her. I took the edge nearest me and pulled it, successfully stripping the bed. She shivered dramatically, though it was plenty warm in the room and she had on a t-shirt and shorts.

  “Wait,” she said, finally catching onto my words, “you said work. I’m here strictly on a social call.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  “And what exactly is this work you speak of?”

  “You’re going to come with me and help me decorate Sadie’s room. We’ve got loads to do. Painting, picking up the furniture I special ordered, filling it with tiny baby things. I can use all the help I can get.”

  “I didn’t bring appropriate attire for painting. I don’t have a huge clothing budget, and I’d prefer not to ruin what I have.”

  “I thought of that already.” I extended my arm to reveal a plastic grocery bag. Since Gracie and I were nearly the same size, I’d grabbed some old clothes from home and brought them with us, anticipating this very thing. “Wear this.”

  “Fuck you.”

  She took the bag, sensing defeat.

  “Hurry up,” I urged, “or I’ll eat the breakfast I brought you.”

  Her eyes lit up at the mention of food; I should have led with that. Suspiciously, her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re being nice and uncharacteristically happy today. Did someone get laid?”

  “Fuck you.”

  She grinned.

  “I mean it, sister. Ten minutes and your eggs and bacon are going to be mine.”

  “You’re a slave driver, I swear!” she hollered after me as I retreated to allow her privacy.

  “Making friends in there?” Chris asked upon me arriving in the kitchen. He and Doug were sitting at Lauren’s kitchen table, breakfast already started. Doug smirked - he was used to Gracie’s antics. Chris, on the other hand, hadn’t spent much face time with her.

  I sat down in the seat beside him, so I had Chris on one side and Lauren’s dad on the other. This meant that Gracie would be sitting directly across from me whenever she made her appearance, but I wasn’t scared. “Nah, that’s just how she is. She’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”

  “A couple of hours?” Chris shook his head. “I have no idea why I agreed to t
his.”

  “I do,” Doug muttered behind a mouthful of egg, exchanging a glance with me. His voice was low enough that Chris couldn’t hear, or could at least pretend not to. Whether he had heard Gracie’s blunt observation on my mood or had just put two and two together, there was no hiding the truth from him. Unlike my father would have been, he seemed amused by the turn of events. I wondered how much of the story he’d been filled in on via his daughters - the biological one or the substitute one.

  “Gracie’s useful,” I explained, “she helped quite a bit with the wedding stuff. Especially if you bribe her. And don’t forget; we’re doing her a favor. If we wouldn’t have shown up, she would have been at the hospital all day with Doug, stuck in a room with a baby.”

  “Ugh,” Gracie responded from down the hallway, picking up on my last comment, “babies.”

  She breezed into the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that Chris was present. She’d tied her black hair up in a ponytail, looking better in my old ratty sweats than most people did with full hair and makeup. Here was a girl who could probably sympathize with me on the complexities of being considered naturally attractive. But Gracie being Gracie, she had likely enjoyed the attention and the power it provided.

  She’d pulled her chair out, her brown eyes locked on the Styrofoam plate waiting for her at the table and nearly sat down before she realized we were a party of four instead of three.

  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “You did have a good night.”

  Chris rolled his eyes.

  “Again, Gracie speaks with the utmost in candor,” Doug observed.

  With the proverbial cat out of the bag, we continued our meal as if all this was normal. As if the past twenty-four hours happened all the time: new lives entering the world, reconciliations occurring and people who lived two hours away randomly eating breakfast in the house of someone who technically didn’t live there anymore.

  “What time are you heading back home, Doug?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe about five or so. I figure that’ll give me some decent granddaughter time without making Matthew and Lauren kick me out.”

  I consulted my cell phone. It was nearly eight in the morning; we’d have almost a full day’s time to put into the nursery. With three of us working on my vision, we could get a fair amount done. “I’ll make sure Gracie’s back before her chariot turns into a pumpkin. You want us to meet you here or at the hospital?”

  “Either one’s good with me.”

  “Hospital then. That way, Gracie can say goodbye to Lauren and I can get a little baby time in myself.”

  “I like how you talk about me like I’m not here. No ‘Hey, Gracie, how does this sound?’”

  “Hey, Gracie,” I played along, “how does that sound?”

  She huffed. “Like I have a choice.”

  “I don’t think any of us have a choice,” Chris commiserated. “When Blake sets her mind to something, she makes everyone else go along with it.”

  He flashed a killer smile in my direction to show me no hard feelings were involved.

  Gracie nodded enthusiastically. “So I’ve noticed.”

  We finished breakfast quickly, cleaning up after ourselves so that Lauren’s house looked almost as perfect and unlived in as it had when any of us had arrived. I reminded myself to speak to my ex-roommate regarding my idea when things had gotten a bit less hectic, but soon. It seemed like way more time had elapsed since I’d voiced the possibility of offering Gracie a job and Lauren letting her move in here, but I knew that my friend had been understandably preoccupied. My plan for everyone else’s lives had been the least of her worries. But still I was scheming. Today would be a trial of sorts, an informal job interview. I needed as many hands on deck as possible, but I was also curious to see if Gracie’s complimentary opinions during the wedding planning had been merely a fluke.

  Doug locked up the house and the four of us walked out to the driveway to go in our separate directions. Regina, Brian and Quinn were outside, sitting on their porch. I waved to them in greeting, then ran across the street to let them know the details about Sadie. I wasn’t certain if Matthew had called them last night. It turned out that he had, but Regina was still happy to hear my account of things.

  We’d picked up the Trailblazer at my studio and I’d opted to let Chris drive, which garnered a knowing look from Gracie. She got into the rear passenger seat without a word, but the smirk on her face spoke volumes. I got into the front, instructing Chris to take us to the nearest home improvement store to pick up several gallons of paint.

  “See, she’s a total slave driver,” Gracie commented. “Hope you like being bossed around.”

  “I plead the fifth,” Chris announced.

  “And yes, I’m always like this,” Gracie confided.

  “Good lord.”

  I hadn’t yet informed Chris of my plan, but secretly hoped that he’d be seeing a lot more of her. He didn’t seem too bothered; if anything I’d wager that he liked her better than Lauren. At least with Gracie, she didn’t hide where you stood. Her distaste for Eric had been evident, but now that she’d spent a little time with Chris in the flesh, I could see that she was judging him on his own merits, not based on Lauren’s opinions.

  After filling a cart with painting supplies and checking out, we headed over to Matthew’s house. Of course, no one was home and we took advantage of that, parking my truck in the Mustang’s usual space in the garage for ease of access. Since Chris and I both had keys to the place - and had so basically since the day Matthew bought it, we acted as if it was second nature to just waltz in. Which it was, except that the last time we had both been here at the same time was less than stellar.

  Chris and I stared at each other, the knowledge of the memory passing between us. But this was just a house, these were just walls and the past was exactly that. I didn’t equate my brother’s home with being the scene of my last fight with Chris or the place I’d had my miscarriage. Those scenes were etched in my memory and would have been painful wherever they took place. It wasn’t fair to imprint that trauma on an inanimate object, especially one that looked nothing like it had when everything happened.

  Maybe that’s why I had been drawn to interior design. I liked to make the ugly beautiful.

  My old bedroom had been repurposed into Sadie’s nursery. Matthew had cleared all of my old furniture out of the room in anticipation of the big event, though he’d checked with me first before doing it. Ever since I’d bought my own place, he’d left the room exactly as I’d decorated it, a sort of shrine to me. I’d originally taken offense, thinking it was his way of telling me he believed that I’d be back someday. But as I’d learned on my own once Lauren had vacated her bedroom in my own loft, sometimes it was just easier to leave things the way they were. No reason to make changes without a purpose. That being said, it was still weird to walk into the space I’d once called my home and have it be completely empty.

  “So,” I began once we’d unloaded our supplies, “we’re painting first, then later on the furniture will be here and we can at least put it in the middle of the room. Chris, Matthew and I can move it later on once everything is dry. But no showing Lauren any pictures before it’s done.”

  Gracie noted the look I gave her, sensing my words were directed entirely at her. “Oh, come on, Blake. I’ve kept plenty of secrets from her. Let me see: Matthew’s love for her, Eric buying her a ring, Matthew’s plans for the proposal, Eric showing up at her wedding, the fact that Chris knocked you up.” She ticked them off on her fingers, seemingly oblivious that Chris had stopped what he was doing to stare at her. “I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting in there.”

  “Your sense of tactfulness, perhaps,” I muttered, hoping that her big mouth hadn’t damaged the progress I’d just made with Chris.

  “You talked with her about it?” Chris asked.

  I stared down at the floor. “She was the second person I told. After you, of course. But before I told Matth
ew.”

  “And I advised her to fess up,” Gracie interjected. “You can thank me now.”

  Chris ignored her, turning to me instead.

  “I needed to talk it out with someone. The morning after the wedding, I was so conflicted. You were angry with me - or at the very least, upset. I needed someone to talk to. Someone who was removed from the situation but yet still knew enough to make sense of it.”

  I peeked upwards at him to see if my explanation was being digested. “Don’t tell me you kept mum on the whole thing that week that Matthew was gone. I seriously doubt that you let it stew in your head, tormenting you without telling someone. In fact, I’d bet you told Will.”

  “Maybe,” he hedged.

  “Hah!” I shouted triumphantly. “So don’t be all holier than thou towards me.”

  “You two are weird.” Gracie observed.

  I stuck my tongue out at her, just to give her more ammunition for her opinion. I wasn’t entirely sure it was unfounded anyway. Then I set to work, clearly in my element. My two helpers stood back and let me work. Armed with painter’s tape, I moved my way about my old room, outlining the idea that I’d prepared. When I’d finished, I stood back and took it all in, considering. What stared back at me was a crazy pattern of blue lines. To anyone else, it would have looked a mess, but I knew where I was headed and it was perfect.

  “Are you sure we can do this?” Gracie asked me as I handed her a paint roller.

  “Of course we can,” I encouraged. “Don’t doubt; just listen.”

  Chris came over and elbowed her. “I’ve learned not to question her. It’s no use.”

  “Oh, hush,” I huffed with mock anger. Secretly, I was impressed that they were getting along this well. If I was going to eventually hire her, she’d feel much more comfortable with the arrangement if she was at least civil with the love of my life. I knew how it had weighed heavily on Lauren that Gracie didn’t get along with Eric. Gracie certainly didn’t hide her opinions and though I didn’t need her to embrace Chris as the best thing since sliced bread, it would be nice if she didn’t want him to perpetually go fuck himself.