Unexpectedly Yours Page 11

  I do exactly as I tell Drew I was going to do. I take a hot shower and slip into a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt before tying up my wet hair. Finally sliding into my bed, I shoot off a quick text to Jamie, who has texted me no less than eight hundred times this long holiday weekend, and I’ve casually ignored every single one.

  Me: I’m alive and home. We’ll catch up tomorrow. I love you.

  I see the three little bubbles pop up indicating that she’s responding and I wait, but nothing comes through before they disappear. I finally power down my phone and reach for my book. I used to roll my eyes at the cheesy instalove romances that I enjoy reading, never believing that love could happen so easily. Now I’m proof that love happens on its own timeline. A brief glance across a room, or a brushed shoulder in the grocery store, even a one-night stand after a night of drinking…love can happen instantaneously. I truly believe that now.

  Even though the hot shower helped clear my head, I find it hard to read. I can’t stay focused with thoughts of Drew at the forefront of my mind. I had no intention of falling for him, but every minute we spend together is making it harder for me to believe I’ll be able to let him go. I barely read a chapter before I find myself falling asleep. Leaning over, I place the book on my nightstand and shut off my lamp before sleep takes over.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake up feeling refreshed. I even make myself a piece of toast with bread I keep stashed in my freezer. A dollop of glorious peanut butter spread over the toast makes my stomach happy. I’m out of coffee grounds, so coffee will have to wait until I get to the office.

  Sometime overnight, thunderstorms moved in and it’s pouring rain outside. I love the rain, so it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I slide a pair of heels into my bag and throw on a pair of flats to commute in. I also toss an extra pair of black pants and a shirt into my bag just in case my half-broken umbrella fails me. Collecting my purse, I manage to leave my apartment on time at six forty-five in the morning, which never happens on the day after a long holiday weekend. I’m anxious to get to the office to see Drew and catch up with Jamie, however, I’m also glad I spent the night at my apartment. It’s given me time to regroup and I feel refreshed this morning.

  Fortunately, luck is on my side. The rain seems to have temporarily lightened and I wait for less than a minute before my bus arrives. Two transfers later and I arrive at the subway station to catch the train that will take me to Manhattan. I’ve done this commute so many times, I could do it in my sleep. I see familiar faces, although they’re complete strangers. In Montana, we would have become friendly seeing each other daily. Here, everyone keeps their heads down, noses in their phones, and earbuds in, in an attempt to keep to themselves.

  I score a seat on the train, another rarity, and mentally run through what I need to get done at the office today. I can feel my phone buzzing in my bag, but I ignore it.

  By the time I get off at my stop and get up to street level, the rain has begun to come down in sheets. My rickety three-dollar thrift store umbrella barely gets me to the office, but I manage without getting too wet. Cloyd, greets me with a plastic umbrella bag and I offer him a kind smile as I shake water off my jacket and do my best to tame my hair that has now frizzed up due to the humidity.

  Arriving on the floor, I glance over at Drew’s office. The door is open and the lights are off. He’s not here yet. The office is just starting to come alive when I slide into my cube. The weather—on top of it being the first day after a long holiday weekend—has everyone getting a late, lazy start. I fire up my laptop just as Jamie comes gliding across the floor, carrying two cups of coffee. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I wouldn’t know what to do without her.

  “You always have my back, don’t you?” I say as she shoves the cup of steaming cardboard at me.

  “Always.” She side-eyes me sarcastically. “Except when you ignore my texts and calls for an entire weekend.”

  I glance away from her and hold the coffee between both of my hands, letting the contents of the cup warm my fingers. “Guilty,” I manage between sips of the hot liquid. “And I’m sorry. It’s just been so crazy, I don’t even know what to tell you or where to start—”

  She cuts me off in her endearing, commanding way. “How about we pick up where we left off on Friday.” Her eyebrows raise knowingly, and I pinch my eyes closed, feeling awful for ignoring her.

  I glance across the office and notice that Drew’s office lights are still off, which means he hasn’t arrived yet. I heave a sigh of relief, knowing that he’s not here and I can catch up with Jamie before he arrives. I stand up and reach for Jamie’s hand.

  “Conference room,” I tell her, nodding toward the dark room. I drag her down the hall and the room lights up when we enter thanks to the motion sensors. I close and lock the door, drawing the privacy screens next so people can’t see us.

  Throwing herself into a chair, Jamie grins at me. “Must be good if we have to talk about it in a conference room.” She spins in her chair like an excited little girl.

  “I can’t have anyone in the office knowing about this,” I tell Jamie seriously. “I can’t have this jeopardize my career or have anyone thinking I’m doing anything inappropriate,” I start.

  Her eyes widen like she knows this is going to be juicy, but she says with all seriousness, “I know. I didn’t mean it like that—”

  “Jamie,” I cut her off. “I need you to promise me you’ll keep this under wraps. I need this job, I love this job. I’ve loved this job long before Mr. McPherson bought the company…”

  “Is that what you call him? Mr. McPherson?” she interrupts with a giggle. “Deeper, Mr. McPherson,” she jokingly says and I roll my eyes. “Okay, sorry. I’ll be serious now.” She straightens up in her chair and pulls her coffee to her. “Tell me everything.”

  I sit next to Jamie and start from Friday night. I tell her about the elevator, our night at the hotel, condo shopping, dinner, furniture shopping, and even about our picnic. I tell her I confessed about my money problems, problems even Jamie doesn’t know the gritty details of. She knows I’ve got shit to take care of, but she doesn’t know the extent of it. Jamie listens intently as I tell her everything. When I finally finish, she simply stares at me.

  “Damn,” she murmurs, dazed. “You guys jumped right into this, didn’t you?”

  I can’t do anything but nod my damn head in response. “I know, and it fucking scares me.”

  There’s a loud knock on the conference room door that startles both Jamie and me. She jumps up and opens the door, just as Eddie pops his head inside.

  “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he starts. “We have the conference room reserved for a client meeting in five minutes.”

  I glance at my watch and see that it’s almost nine o’clock. Jamie and I have been in here for almost an hour.

  “Shit,” I mumble, grabbing my empty coffee cup. “I have to get to work.”

  “Me too,” says Jamie, following me from the conference room back toward our desks.

  I stop abruptly, causing Jamie to run into my backside when I see Drew standing in my cube, staring out my window over a cloudy, rainy Manhattan. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his dress shirt is rolled up to his forearms. Tan, muscular arms stick out from under that crisp dress shirt. Even casual, he looks like the powerhouse CEO that he is. My heart rate kicks up a notch at the sight of him.

  As Jamie nudges me forward, I clear my throat as I do my best to look unaffected by his presence.

  “Mr. McPherson,” I acknowledge him, but don’t look at him. I slide into my desk chair and enter the password to my computer, bringing the screen back to life.

  “Good morning,” he says from behind me and I still keep my eyes trained on my computer. “And good morning, Jamie,” he says, acknowledging her.

  I glance up at Jamie and see her smile at him knowingly. Dammit, Jamie.

  “Morning, Mr. McPherson. Busy weekend getting
to know New York City?” she asks him with the kind of innocence only a skilled liar could pull off. I’m going to fucking kill her. I narrow my eyes at her and she winks at me.

  I spin around in my chair to look at Drew, whose eyes jump back and forth between us, and I can see he’s picked up that I’ve filled her in. I hang my head in shame and shake my head.

  “It was a wonderful weekend,” he tells her honestly.

  “Do anything exciting?” she asks, her tone snarky and her questions intruding. “Or anyone?” she says under her breath and I choke.

  “Are you okay?” Drew asks me.

  “Fine,” I cough out, tossing a glare at Jamie, who giggles and slides into her desk chair. I pick up a pen off my desk and throw it at her. It hits her back. She bursts into laughter and Drew shakes his head in amusement at us.

  He leans over my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “I missed you last night.” His warm breath causes me to shiver and catch my breath. “I didn’t like waking up and you not being there,” he continues, knowing the effect he has on me.

  I shift in my chair and sit up straight, trying to drown out the throbbing that has started between my legs.

  I spin slowly toward him and stop, his face mere inches from mine. “I slept remarkably well,” I tell him.

  He smiles. “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying,” I whisper.

  “You are.” He brushes a knuckle over my top lip and my skin breaks out in goosebumps. “When you lie, your upper lip twitches.” Jesus Christ, this man has me all figured out.

  I hold his gaze and my heart stammers in my chest. Looking at him, I can’t help but feel that I’ve missed him too.

  “I’d like to meet with you later to go over a few things,” he says, standing up. “How does eleven thirty in my office sound?”

  “Sounds fine,” I muster out.

  “See you then, Gracie.”

  Drew saunters out of my cube and down the hallway. I can’t help it as my eyes follow him as he walks through the rows of cubes until he reaches his office. I notice Jamie watching him too before she spins around in her chair and faces me.

  “Holy fuck,” she hisses. “That man has it bad for you.” I look back at Drew’s office and watch the door close before I look at Jamie again.

  “I know.” And sadly, I have it just as bad for him.

  * * *

  Just before eleven thirty, the art department sends over three different advertising design concepts for one of my potential clients, a large privately-owned hospital here in New York City. I examine each of the concepts thoroughly, finally landing on one that I propose they choose, and in turn hire me and AM Global Advertising to manage their advertising needs. However, I want all three concepts presented because, honestly, all of them are amazing. It’s unusual to have three strong concepts where all of them stand out both artistically and content wise. This is an account manager’s dream. Copy and concepts that will work with print, social, and radio advertising, and all of them are fucking fantastic.

  I set up a meeting with my media buyer to discuss budget proposals and channel planning. I want magazine, newspaper, radio, social media, and television all on the table. I want a solid proposal with budget lined up to present when we meet with the client.

  I’m feeling great about my progress for the day until I realize it’s eleven thirty on the dot. I quickly lock the screen on my laptop and nervously run my sweaty palms over my dress pants. I grab a notebook from my desk and head toward Drew’s office. I knock on the door and wait until I hear him say, “Come in” before entering.

  “Hey,” I say casually, intentionally leaving the door open as I wait just inside his office.

  He gestures toward the small, round office table that sits in the corner of his office. “Have a seat.” His tone is professional, not a hint of casualness in his voice. Maybe this is a work meeting.

  I like that he can be professional at work, not everything between us having to be sexual. He walks over to the office door that I left open and closes it, twisting the lock on the handle before joining me at the table. He doesn’t sit across from me, but instead pulls out a chair right next to me and sits down, edging himself in closer to me. My heart rate spikes as his arm brushes mine and I feel like a fifteen-year-old school girl with her first crush.

  He sets a manila folder on the table and turns to me. “I missed you last night.” He looks amazing in his perfectly pressed black dress pants and blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. I swallow hard, not knowing how to respond. I missed him too, but at the same time, the distance was needed. Everything is moving at warp speed and I needed a night to just be by myself.

  “You already told me that,” I tease, “and it looks like you survived.” A smile tugs at my lips.

  He shakes his head and leans back in his chair, propping his right leg over his left knee.

  “I know I can survive without you, Gracie, but maybe I don’t want to.” His forefinger traces the outline of the manila folder and I remember that finger tracing every curve of my body.

  I pinch my eyes closed, pushing back the memory. “I missed you too,” I begrudgingly admit and inhale a sharp breath.

  He grins at my admission. “Tonight, you’re staying with me.” It’s a statement, not a request.

  I don’t even bother arguing with him. I simply nod. Good thing I packed an extra outfit in my bag for the rain.

  “Good, now that we’ve agreed to that,” he starts and can’t stop smiling. He slides the folder in front of me. His face drops into something more serious.

  “What is this?” I question, resting my palm flat on top of the envelope.

  “Options.”

  “What kind of options?” The folder is about a half-inch thick and I trail my fingers across the cover to the edge to open it.

  “Options that will hopefully help you.”

  Oh, Jesus, what has he done? I flip the folder open and see page after page of loan companies listing terms, payment amounts, and interest rates. My stomach drops when I see the amount of information he’s collected and presented to me. Work I’ve been too intimidated, too afraid to do.

  “Drew—” I start, but my voice breaks as my eyes scan the pages of information.

  “Listen,” he begins, his voice quiet and steady. “It’s just for you to look at. You don’t need to make any decisions today.” He clears his throat and reaches out his hand, resting it on my forearm. “These are legitimate companies that won’t take advantage of you. All I did was compile the information. That’s where my help will end unless—”

  “No!” I snap at him nervously. “This is perfect.” I shuffle the papers back into the folder and slap the folder closed. “Thank you.” My voice is clipped, abrupt.

  “—unless you need me,” he finishes his sentence hesitantly. He knows I don’t want to talk about this with him. “I can co-sign, I can help—”

  “You’ve done enough already. Thank you.” I just want to end this conversation. All of this makes me so uncomfortable and it’s embarrassing. “I should really get back to work,” I tell him as I stand up, hoping to make a fast exit.

  He nods, but not before reaching out and clasping his hand around my wrist. “Tonight,” he says softly, a gentle reminder this conversation isn’t changing my agreement to stay with him tonight. I nod quickly and get the hell out of his office as fast as I can.

  * * *

  I spend the rest of my afternoon doing my best to get through emails, the media proposal, and three conference calls, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been distracted by the folder from Drew sitting dead center on my desk. I thumb through the pages over and over, wondering how he was able to collect so much information so quickly. I rub my forehead as I think about it, but then I remember who he is. He has access to the best of everything—accountants, financial advisors, and bankers. I’m sure he made a call and, bam, this is what I got.

  While I’m thankful, I’m also humiliated. I hate
that someone else knows about my situation, even though it was my choice to tell him. The loan information on the documents lists the exact amount of debt I have, having grown by the tens of thousands since I last checked. Fucking interest.

  I rest my head in my hands and fight back tears. Angry tears. Angry at everyone and everything. Rationally, I know that’s fucked up, because this is my own doing.

  “You okay?” His voice is concerned and quiet. I glance at him quickly as he looks around to see if anyone is nearby, and fortunately, no one is around.

  I want to tell him no. I feel nauseous. I want to cry and scream and make it all disappear, but this is what my life is.

  I raise my head and look at him. “I will be,” I muster out. “It’s just overwhelming.”

  Drew chooses not to say anything, and for once, I’m grateful for his silence. Nothing he could say would make me feel better in this moment. He’s done so much in just getting me the information I need to get me on a better financial path and that means more to me than I can even express.

  Drew steps in closer to me, but not so close that it’s inappropriate in a work environment. “It’s five thirty. I’ve wrapped up everything important on my to-do list. Shut down and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes. Tony is waiting on the corner of Forty-Seventh Street. I’ll be in the car waiting for you.”

  I don’t have the energy to argue, so I nod my head as my eyes fill with tears.

  “Hey,” he whispers. “I promise you everything is going to be just fine.”

  I want so badly to believe him. Taking a deep breath, I let his words sink in. Drew squeezes my shoulder in a gesture of comfort before heading back to his office. I see his office lights shut off before he makes his way to the elevator. After firing off one last client email, I gather my belongings, shoving the folder in my large shoulder bag next to my purse.