From Pemberley to Manhattan [COMPLETED]

Chapter 42

Nat

My first thought was I needed to change; my clothes weren't flattering at all. Then I kicked myself mentally for being so superficial. This was just a day at the museum. A day with Darcy. Just the two of us.

Oh, God.

I knew exactly what Grandma's intentions were. Had she done it a few weeks back, I'd have disapproved her meddling, since I believed I was in a happy relationship with a great guy.

Good riddance that one.

The other reason that had made me consider Darcy and I should only be friends a good idea was the fact he and I were currently living under the same roof. I reckoned if we got romantic and things didn't work out it would be weird having to see him every day. Trust me, that thought had kept me from invading his room at night wearing my favorite pink nightie.

That same morning, however, I'd learnt during breakfast with my parents that particular reason had evaporated as well. The huge revelation occurred as Mom was asking Dad how long Darcy would be staying with us. "I like Fitz, honey", she'd told her hubby, "but he was supposed to be with us for a couple of days; it's been weeks now."

Long, torturing, mind-blowing weeks, by the way Mom.

"I'm aware how long it's been, darling", he answered with the sweetest tone, the one that made Mom's practical-but-also-loving heart melt, "but his play's been canceled, poor guy. He's now saving money to get his own place."

It was obvious Mom wasn't a hundred percent convinced. So Dad made a promise she couldn't refuse. "You know what? I just had an idea. What if, when Fitz leaves, I do whatever I can to convince Bobby to get his own place too? Maybe the two of them could share an apartment for a while. They've became quite inseparable."

"Babe! That's such a great idea! I have the best husband in the world!", she kissed him. It wasn't that Mom wanted to get rid of us or anything. She only sought to inspire us (by practically kicking us out) to be independent.

According to her, she wouldn't be a successful curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art if not for the five years she'd spent living abroad, surviving with waitressing and cleaning jobs, learning how hard – yet somehow beautiful – the real world was.

The only reason she hadn't insisted I rented my own place was because I was still paying for my masters. Eventually, though, my day would come too.

Anyway, now it seemed the Darcy road was obstacle-free. Being hot, intelligent, and gentle was a major plus for the guy. I was beginning to appreciate even his sense of humor, which was strange at times.

I waited until Mike arrived, went upstairs practically running, put my cute, red, sunflower dress, my sexiest perfume, some light makeup, to bring the green of my eyes, and prepared myself to get Darcyed away...

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