Chapter 31
For the second time in her life, Grace nervously consents to being the subject of a makeover.
June joins Caia in the endeavor, taking on the responsibility of Grace’s morning skin care and makeup.
“Nothing crazy,” Grace says, sitting on the edge of the bed as June presses a pink sponge repeatedly into her cheeks.
When June doesn’t reply save for a quick roll of her eyes, Grace insists. “June.”
The sponge stills, and June rises to her full height and places her hands on top of Grace’s shoulders. “Relax,” she says, not unkindly. “I’m just gonna wake up your face a little, and color-correct the sunburn.”
While she works diligently on that task, Caia strategically lays out the clothes she bought, ranging from jewel-toned athletic wear to dresses short enough that Grace is sure they wouldn’t cover her entire backside.
A pair of jeans lies buried somewhere in the mix, and Grace eyes them multiple times as Caia taps her chin in contemplation, murmuring to herself as she mixes and matches.
She shows Grace multiple combos as options, then finally concedes with a scoff when Grace’s eyes keep drifting to the jeans.
“Fine,” she sighs. “But I’m picking the top.
” She points at Grace with a firm index finger. “No arguments.”
Crew is off somewhere with Cooper; he’d been shooed out of the room as soon as the two women had arrived.
Grace wonders what he’s doing at this very moment—almost laughs at herself for how pathetic it is that she actually misses him, even though she was folded up snugly in his arms less than an hour ago.
She thinks about the lingering kiss he’d given her before leaving the room, the heated stare they shared for a long moment before Caia insisted he get lost. The message had been clear even without a single word being uttered: We’ll continue this later.
She’d nodded and let him go with only a tiny pout, but frankly, Grace is wildly impatient to get to later.
She’s impatient to touch him, to get lost in his kiss without the worry of being interrupted.
She’s impatient to feel the weight of him pressing down onto her, to look up and not be able to see anything beyond his breadth.
Her mountain of a man. Her beautiful, freckled sky.
It takes nearly an hour before Caia and June are satisfied with the work they’ve done.
They’re careful with her casted hand as they help her into her top, a black ribbed tank that hugs her body and somehow accentuates her nonexistent cleavage.
They also help her into a pair of black Ariats, shiny and new and stiff as all hell, but hers.
“There’s more where these came from,” Caia says as she grunts and shoves one until Grace’s foot is settled within.
“I figured you needed a new brown pair, too. But then the saleslady started bringing out all kinds of pretty colors and patterns and I just couldn’t resist.”
Grace winces as the back of the boot scrapes her heel, then sighs once both of her feet are secured.
They’re comfortable even in their newness, and she can’t deny that they look good.
They probably cost more than she’s spent on boots in a decade, but Grace tries not to think about that, especially considering Caia’s implication that she purchased multiple pairs.
She stands from the bed once the boots are fully on and looks down at her body, taking in the way the clothes fit, the paint on her chewed-down nails, the little touches of turquoise and silver from the necklace and bracelet Caia had picked out for her.
“We’ll ease you into the jewelry,” she’d said as she strung the silver chain with a small turquoise pendant around Grace’s neck.
At the fifty-eight-minute mark since they walked in and took over, someone knocks on the door.
Caia, who had told Crew and Cooper to find something else to do for an hour, shakes her head as she opens it, knowing exactly who is waiting on the other side.
She folds her arms over her chest and says to Crew, “You are ridiculous. Being in love makes you ridiculous.”
Grace can’t see them from where she stands in the room while June fusses with her hair one last time, but she can hear his rumbling “Move, please. I want to make sure you didn’t make over my girlfriend the way you used to do with your Barbie dolls.”
“Oh God,” Cooper exclaims. “I forgot about those. You were demented. Didn’t you dye one of them green with food coloring?”
“She was supposed to be an alien!” Caia shouts, then, a little quieter and calmer, “I told you an hour. We still have two minutes—”
Caia’s squeal is loud, part holler and part laughter, and Grace’s face splits into a grin as she watches Crew lift his sister up by her biceps and physically move her out of the doorway.
He walks in once she’s steady on her feet and muttering something about him being a total brute, and his determined steps bring him right toward Grace, but as soon as his eyes land on her, he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he blurts, his lips parting.
“Yeah, oh. And no green food coloring in sight,” Caia says, throwing her hands up. “Now apologize.”
Crew doesn’t look away from Grace, but he clamps his lips together and lets out a long, shuddering breath through his nostrils.
He takes a step closer, leans his face down until it’s only an inch from hers, but then stops himself.
“I’m sorry,” he says, still looking her straight in the eye. “Leave now.”
Something that sounds a lot like the words lovesick puppy comes from Caia and Cooper’s general direction, but Grace stops paying attention to whatever is happening around them.
Under the intensity of Crew’s gaze, she can’t think about anything else.
Soon, they’re alone, June having joined the vacating siblings, and the door has barely clicked shut when Crew is backing Grace up against the nearest wall and slotting his mouth over hers.
Delicious, intoxicating heat unfurls deep in her belly as his tongue starts to caress her own.
His urgency, his need—it’s obvious in the way he’s holding her, keeping her in place as he attacks her mouth, the little groans echoing from his throat with every swipe of his tongue against hers.
He breaks away eventually when they’re both desperate for air, and he’s gasping as his forehead rests against hers.
When his breathing has slowed to a seminormal pace, he blinks up at her.
“I’m sorry—you just—you look so beautiful. ”
Grace chuckles. “It’s just jeans and a tank top. And a little bit of makeup.”
He shakes his head, a small, closed-lip but adorable smile on his lips. “No, it’s more than that. You look—alive. Healthy.” He kisses the apple of her cheek, letting his lips linger there. In a voice no louder than a whisper, he says, “Glowing.”
Grace kisses him softly in thanks. “Your sister will be happy to hear your stellar review. I wasn’t—” She feels momentarily self-conscious, her eyes falling downward as she finishes her thought.
“I didn’t quite understand why they were doing all of this.
It seemed…odd. To put so much effort into how I look, after everything that’s happened. I’m still not entirely sure.”
“They love you,” Crew replies. He brushes his hand over her face, letting it sweep into her hair.
She’s noticed that he does it often, even when there isn’t hair to push out of her face.
Something about the motion seems to relax him, and Grace leans into his palm, pushing into it like a needy house cat.
A little distracted by his touch, Grace murmurs, “That seems unlikely. June, maybe, but she’d never admit to it.
” Crew’s blunt nails scratch her scalp and Grace’s eyes close.
Everything he does—every way he touches her—sets her skin aflame.
At this point, he could shake her hand and she’d be revved up and ready for him within seconds. “But Caia…she’s only met me twice.”
Crew kisses her, and Grace moans into his mouth. It’s short-lived, and she gives a slight pout when he pulls away, smirking. “Caia loves me,” he says, “and I love you. So, yeah. Maybe she doesn’t know you know you, but she knows enough. And she enjoys taking care of the people she loves.”
“Runs in the family, I guess,” Grace says, reaching up to hold his face with her good hand.
His unshaven cheek scratches against her palm, and upon closer inspection, she notices little specks of gray sprinkled throughout the dark brown.
The sight of it does something to her. Images of him with more gray than brown flash through her mind, a silver head of hair to match.
The smile lines at his eyes and cheeks—the ones she so adores right now—growing deeper and more beautiful with every passing year.
She’s suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to be at Crew’s side for all of it—to witness the progression of him going from raven black to gray, to see his eyes darkening with age, the golden-hued amber of his irises shifting into something even more depthless, more mesmerizing, somehow.
He must see something in her face, because he lets out a sharp exhale and takes a step away from her.
“We need to get out of here,” he proclaims, looking at her with the same intensity she must be giving to him.
“I can’t keep ravishing you in this hospital room.
” Hastily, he gathers her bags and slings them over his shoulder, reaching out his free hand to grab hers.
He ignores his sister’s under-breath comment about taking his sweet time and walks past them, leading Grace to the elevator, where they’ll go up two floors to get to Renata’s room.