Chapter 34
34
GAbrIEL
“C olson?” I call his name; he looks up from the homework he is doing on the island. It’s something he started doing because of Zara, at first. He used to do it in his computer room, but she kept going over there every ten minutes to check on him. So one day, he brought out his books and put them in the kitchen so she could see him. It kind of stuck, so now he’s just hanging in the kitchen. “What do you want to eat for dinner?” I ask him, looking at the clock on the stove. “I have about an hour before your mother gets here.”
“I think Mom is making dinner,” Colson says, “so I’m good with a snack. How about some banana and peanut butter with some apples?”
Another thing Zara got him used to is snacks before dinner. She would make him all sorts of snacks after school while I cooked dinner. The two of them talked about his day and what he wanted to do during the weekend. The house literally feels dead without her here, like it misses her.
“When is Zara coming back?” he asks me, and I shrug, taking an apple out of the bowl and then cutting it for him.
“Not sure yet, buddy,” I reply, my palms sweating when I think of the last conversation I had with her this morning. She’s been on my mind all day long, which is nothing new. But now it’s the whole conversation that replayed in my head all day long. What do you want from this? The loaded fucking question. My stomach literally tightens every time I think about it. I place the plate of apples and banana in front of him with a little scoop of peanut butter.
He looks at the plate and then back at me. “Zara places the bananas down and then puts the peanut butter on them.” He looks at me like I just failed him as a parent before looking down at the fruit plate as if I handed him garbage. “It’s better like that.”
“Duly noted,” I mumble. “I’m going to take a shower before I have to leave,” I tell him, walking to my bedroom and seeing the bed unmade, which pisses me off. I look at the picture by the bed of the three of us at the gender reveal, Colson tucked on Zara’s side holding the pink hat with me holding the blue hat. I quickly take a shower, putting on a pair of fresh jeans and a black T-shirt. Colson has packed up all his things and has demolished the fruit plate by the time I’m back.
“Mom just called. She’s coming early,” he tells me, and then we hear a honk. He comes over to me, hugs me around my waist, and I bend down to kiss his head.
“Tell Zara to come home,” he urges before he grabs his hat and runs out the door to his mother’s truck.
“ Yeah, I’ll get right on that ,” I think, walking to the sink and putting the plate in there before grabbing my own hat and heading out earlier than expected.
I walk into the back of the bar and go straight to my office. I toss my keys onto the desk before I take out my phone and pull up her number. I press call, and the phone goes to voicemail right away. “You’ve reached Zara Petrov. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“Hey, Sweetheart,” I say softly, “can you call me back?” I close my eyes and press end before I tell her fucking voicemail that I love her instead of telling her to her face. Putting the phone in my back pocket, I head out to the bar area. I spot a couple of people I know, holding up my hand and going straight to the back of the bar.
“What’s up, AJ?” I ask the other bartender, who just smirks. “We busy?”
“No, it’s been pretty dead since I got here,” he states, and I work beside him until around seven when I see maybe ten people left in the bar.
“Why don’t you take off?” I tell him. “Save it for the weekend.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He tosses the rag he was using to wipe down the bar to me. “See you later.”
I smile as I wipe down the bar top and then look down at the server, who is standing by the side, waiting to do something. “If you want to cash them out and then tell them to come see me if they need anything, you can.”
“You sure?” she asks, and I nod as she goes to the three tables and gives them their checks. She comes back, closing up all her accounts, and handing me her float. “See you Saturday,” I tell her, and she just smiles and walks out the back.
It takes an hour before everyone else gets up and leaves, which isn’t bad for a Wednesday night. Usually, it’s booming between five and seven, and then everyone ends up leaving. I’m picking up a couple of empties and walking back to the bar when I hear the door open. I turn my head to look over and tell the person that we’re closed, but I have to do a double take when I see her walking in.
She looks around, seeing the bar empty, but all I can do is stare at her. She stands there in a sweater dress of some sort with her cowboy boots on, her baby bump getting much bigger as the days go by. “Sweetheart,” I greet softly when she stops in the middle of the room. “What are you doing here?” I ask, shocked but not really caring at this point, as long as she’s here.
“Well,” she starts, “we were having a conversation this morning, and you didn’t even call me back to finish it.”
“Um—” I start to say, but she holds up her hand, and all I can do is raise my eyebrows.
“I don’t want to hear it right now, Cowboy,” she snaps at me. “I wanted to hear it this afternoon after you hung up on me.”
“I didn’t hang up on you.” I point at her. “I had to go.”
“Did you call me back?” She doesn’t even wait for me to answer. “You did not.”
“I called you, and it went straight to voicemail,” I correct her. “I even left a message.”
“Oh, big man left a message,” she mocks me.
“Did you come all this way to fight with me?”
“Yes.” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks one to the side. “Yes, I did, and I also came here to tell you something.”
“Yeah?” I shoot back, pissed that she hasn’t come to kiss me yet. She’s been standing in front of me and hasn’t even made an effort. “What’s that?”
“Well, I asked you what this was.” She points between us. “But you never asked me what I thought this was.” I glare at her. Did she come all this way to break up with me? I think to myself. “You were right,” she says, and I’m about to gloat when she glares. “It was a two-sided question.”
“Thank you.” I nod to her, holding my breath, waiting for her to talk. Hoping like fuck she’s not here to tell me that this thing is over between us because it’s not. I’ll fight every day of my life to show her we belong together. With each other. Always.
“So you gave me your answer. Are you interested to hear my answer?” She taps her foot like she’s been waiting a year for me to answer instead of a couple of seconds. My heart soars a little in my chest. “You told me what you want from me, and this is what I want from you. I miss you all the time,” she says, her hands going to her stomach. My hands itch to touch her and my babies. “Like all the time. I’m home, and I hate every minute of it. I feel lost.” She swallows down, and I take a step to her, but she shakes her head. “I want you to stand next to me in the kitchen and teach me how to cook. I want you to come home after work and give me the biggest hug I’ve ever had. I want you to slide into bed with me and hold me and bury your face in my neck, giving me small kisses. I want you to go with me for a walk in the forest where we hear nothing but our voices.” She wipes away the tear that escapes, and I’m giving her one more minute before I go to her. “That is what I want from you. And now I’ll tell you what I want from this,” she continues. “I want to live here with you. I don’t want to go back to New York unless I have a meeting I can’t do from here. I want to wake with you every day and do life with you. I want all of it.”
“I love you,” I blurt out, stopping her from talking. She gasps, and I wonder if maybe it was too early to say out loud.
“That’s not fair. I was the one talking.” She throws up her hands. “So it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counts.” I take the remaining steps to her. “It fucking counts. I said it first.” I wrap one arm around her waist while my hand goes to the side of her hair, tilting her head back and kissing the ever-loving shit out of her, pulling her to me, her chest plastering against mine. The kiss is long, it’s hard, and it’s wet. Her hands grip the sides of my shirt. “Does this mean you’re staying?”
“I haven’t decided.” She rolls her eyes. “Unless you say I said I love you first.”
“But, Sweetheart.” I smirk at her. My chest feels like it’s going to explode, but in a good way, like in the best way. “I can’t lie to you.”
“I said it first.” She stomps her foot. “Or I would have if you hadn’t charged me.”
“You still haven’t said it,” I remind her, and she glares at me, rolling her eyes.
“You have got to be kidding me!” she shrieks. “I’m standing here in front of you, telling you I want to move here and be with you.” My hand comes up to hold the other side of her head, and she wraps her hands around my wrist. “If that doesn’t say I love you, I don’t know what does.”
“Are you done yet?” I ask her about the rant she is having. “Where are your things?”
“At your house,” she says, and I shake my head.
“It’s our house, Sweetheart.” I smile at her, kissing her lips. “Did you bring all your stuff?”
“Most of it,” she tells me. “My parents are shipping the rest next week. But your dad came to the plane and helped me with all my luggage.”
“So that’s it, then?” I ask her. “No more going back to New York?”
“I have to go back when I have some meetings,” she assures me, “but no more going back to New York.”
I can’t help but smile big when she says that, and the nervousness of the past couple of hours washes away. “Sure took you long enough, Sweetheart.”
“Gabriel Jacob McIntyre,” she says my full name, “you have some nerve.”
“But you love me?” She closes her eyes.
“I love you.” She puts her hands on my cheeks. “I love you.”
I grin at her, and right before I drag her into the back room, I say three more words I’ve been dying to say, “Welcome home, Sweetheart.”