Inevitable - Kristen Granata Page 0,32

real-life mermaid.”

She giggles and does a twirl in front of the mirror. “I love how it flares out at the bottom.”

When she stops spinning and takes a look at my dress, she falters and her eyes bug out of her head. “Oh my God, Eva! You look incredible!”

I do a twirl of my own and grin. “Graham picked it out.”

“He’s going to go into cardiac arrest when he sees that slit.”

I wink. “That’s the idea.”

Deanna continues to check herself out in the mirror while I carefully step out of the dress and place it back on the hanger.

“You’re not going to try on the others?” Deanna asks, when she sees me putting my clothes back on.

“They’re nice, but there’s no way I’m buying anything other than the one that caught Graham’s eye.”

She frowns. “I can’t decide. The purple one shows more leg, but this one shows off my cleavage.”

“Is Will coming with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then go for the cleavage. I would, if mine were as big as yours.”

She smiles. “They do look good in this one.”

“Yeah they do.” I smack her ass and sling my jacket on. “You mind if I head out?”

“Of course not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My father is coming back tomorrow, which means tonight is the last night I get to fall asleep in Graham’s arms.

I’ve always been independent. I push people away and rely on myself, because it’s easier. Safer. People only seem to let you down, and I’m the one person I know I can count on. I’ve never required a man, never minded being single. Most guys are only good for one thing, so I took what I needed and moved on.

But I crave Graham. I crave his presence, his attention. I crave his body against me and his lips on mine. I crave the meaningful conversations we have, the time we spend together. Most of all, I crave the way I feel when I’m with him.

Happy.

At peace.

It’s new territory for me, and I don’t want it to end. With each day that passes, it’s becoming harder to imagine my life without Graham in it.

I just wish I didn’t feel like that’s an option.

“What’s going on in that incredible mind of yours?”

I wrap my arm around Graham’s midsection, like I’m holding on to a tree trunk in the middle of a storm. That’s how I feel, like we’ll be ripped apart if I don’t hold on tight enough.

“Honestly? I’m thinking about how much it’s going to suck once my dad gets back from his trip and I can’t sleep next to you anymore.”

Graham’s chest puffs out before he releases his breath. “I love sleeping next to you too. Have you ever thought about getting your own apartment?”

I nod against his chest. “Before Eric died, I’d always wanted to open my own art studio. I imagined I’d get an apartment in Soho with Deanna.”

“That sounds perfect for you.”

“I guess. I just haven’t been able to draw anything since Eric died. It’s like I don’t know what to do with the pencil when it’s between my fingers. I just stare at the blank paper.”

His head dips down to look at me. “Will you show me your sketchbook?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and chew on my bottom lip. “I’ve never shared my art with anyone other than Eric.”

“Oh, that’s okay. If you don’t feel comfortable—”

“No.” My eyes open and look straight into Graham’s understanding green ones. “I’m telling you that so you understand the magnitude of my answer. I’d love to show you my sketches.”

Graham’s lips part and his eyebrows draw together. Slowly, his hand comes up to my chin and he tilts my mouth toward his for a kiss. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Thank you for making me want to.”

I slip out of bed and swipe my sketchpad from atop my desk. Then I tuck my legs back under the covers and lay the pad in Graham’s lap. I stay quiet and watch his expression as he flips through each page, studying my pictures, running his fingers over certain pencil strokes.

Over the years, I’ve drawn anything and everything from people and their pets in the park to the moonlit river in the middle of the woods. An ache pangs in my heart when Graham turns to the last page in my sketchbook: A picture of Eric on the roof of our building. I hadn’t finished it, because I’d started sketching it the day before he died.

Graham’s eyes flick to mine as he brushes his fingers against