The Lucky One (2) - Taylor Swift

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"I just feel as though starting a medication that my doctor feels may or may not make a huge difference with my concern about addiction would not be wise. Speaking of which, one of the women I see at my meetings had surgery and ended up addicted to painkillers, too. That is so scary, now I'm worried about becoming addicted to everything. Gambling even, and I love poker."

"Painkillers are nice," the singer began to zip her suitcase closed. She had to walk around the side of the bed to finish sipping it since it was getting quite heavy. Her mom told her lots of embarrassing stories about Taylor on pain meds after her Lasik surgery but all she could remember was it not hurting.

"I'm going to become one of those my body is a temple people, no medications. No risk then."

"No, just a shit-ton of pain. What about like, an epidural, would you get that?"

"Needles? No."

"You're scared of needles?" Taylor was surprised to find that out. She realized they had never talked about that, there was never a reason to, "You're fully vaccinated, right?"

"Just because I'm scared of needles doesn't mean I avoid them in situations where they are required. I even get regular blood work done," the former heiress looked at the empty suitcase next to the bed that she had said she would pack and decided to continue talking for a little bit longer because packing it seemed like work, "Would I be getting an epidural or would you be getting an epidural?"

"It depends," Taylor tried to see what Grace's face was telling her about the situation but all it told her was that Grace looked scared by the question she had asked. She couldn't blame her, there was a lot to consider.

"This is not a question straight people ask," Grace covered her mouth as she leaned against her elbow, "With Charlie it was fairly clear that I would have to... you know."

"Are you scared to say the actual words?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"That's a major yes coming from you."

"It is not."

"Gracie, would you want to be pregnant or would that freak you out?" Taylor finally asked the question directly for her girlfriend.

"My genes are not exactly genes to pass along," Grace seemed to sink into her skin at the question. She had considered that a lot, she didn't know if she felt right about passing along the hereditary things she'd gotten. Sometimes it felt like the short end of the stick.

Taylor took a few heartbeats to determine her next statement as she hoisted the empty suitcase onto the bed and began to undo it. Someone had to start packing Grace's things and if it wasn't Grace, it had to be her, "You have perfect cheekbones and a good jawline and boobs so I don't know about that."

"The other things, the things in my head," Grace shook her head as she got off the bed, put her crocs back on and began to ruffle through her side of the closet only to realize she actually wanted to be on Taylor's, "May I take your green sweatshirt?"

"You don't have to ask. I took two things from your half."

"I saw that," Grace replied as she removed the hanger and placed it with the rest of the spares.

"Okay, forget about the genetic thing. What about just the actual carrying a baby and giving birth, is that something you would want to do? I'm just asking 'cause if I carry the baby then we need to like, plan that now. It'll have to be a big break in my career, like two years with no tour or album, pretty much. It's not something we really have the luxury of just up and doing one day. You know how things are."

"I don't know why we would need to plan that now, darling. We aren't even married and I'm not having children out of wedlock. It's too complicated," Grace tried to brush the conversation off by adding, "Do you think I should bring these trousers or the beige ones?"

"We could get married."

Grace looked up from the pants she was holding and kept her eyes locked on Taylor's face. It did not twist into a smile to indicate humour, she was not joking, "As in right now?"

"No, right now you need to pack your suitcase," the blonde chuckled nervously, "But we could get married. We've talked about it, I know I'm not going anywhere so you're stuck with me anyways."

Grace felt her heart physically start beating again inside her chest, it felt like it must have stopped when Taylor said that. She must have died, "Marriage is a big deal."

"Yes," Taylor nodded, "I am taking the panic in your voice as an indication that you aren't read to talk about it."

"Not presently," Grace hoped that wouldn't lead to hurt feelings. She did want to marry Taylor but she was still finding out who she wanted to be. She'd already almost made the mistake of becoming someone's wife without knowing who that person would be, she wanted to go into that phase of life with no hesitation and at the moment, she had a lot of it.

"Then I'll make it simple," Taylor put her hand on Grace's covered back, bringing her fingers into the centre to meet in a slight tickling fashion, "If you want to marry me, you can be the one to propose. That way it's when you're ready. Sound fair?"

"Yes," Grace could consent to those terms and conditions, "You have an agreement."

"Okay, Thesaurus, don't get nervous on me," the big words always came out when anxiousness creeped up Grace's spine. Taylor had fun seeing how just much she could make Grace blush and stutter sometimes, but right then she backed off after pressing a kiss to the side of her head and went to get the cat carriers ready.

It turns out that Michael was allergic to cats. He had no idea, he never had any reason to go around them before. They locked them away in the guest room but he was still sniffling and sneezing up a storm that night. Grace volunteered to go with him to the drugstore to pick up some allergy medicine, she wanted to talk to him about his thoughts on her diagnosis and it would give them a few minutes of privacy.

They got halfway into town on the rural side road they took, hoping to get there before things shut down for the night when Grace finally told him, "I have ADHD."

"Really?" He hummed, "Since when? Nellie's got that."

"Since birth, I suppose. I didn't know for certain until this morning," Grace began to explain, "I wanted to ask your opinion on medication with an alcohol addiction."

"Depends on the meds and the person. Why? They putting you on something for it?"

"Thinking about it, yes. The statistical risk of addiction is very low but I've always had a certain type luck," she put her elbow on the ledge by the window and rested her head against it.

Just as Michael was about to slow down for the upcoming stop sign, the tires hit a patch of ice and the truck began to slide sideways. He tried correcting the wheel but the quick motion only made it worse, accelerating the turn and rolling the vehicle over and over... right through the ditch and into the middle of a field of snow off the highway where it stopped with a thud upside down.

She had a certain type of luck, indeed.