16. Seth
Iwake up to the feel of a warm arm wrapped around my stomach and a warm body pressed against my back. I’ve never been the little spoon, but I like it.
I grab the hand of the person wrapped around me, lift it to my lips, and kiss the back of it. A plaintive moan sounds from behind me. I roll to find Gabby lying next to me, her eyes still closed and her hair a mess of snarls around her face.
I kiss the tip of her nose, and she squinches her face up. “Don’t kiss me. I need to brush my teeth,” she mutters without opening her eyes.
“Fuck teeth brushing,” I reply as I kiss the corner of her mouth.
“Do you have an extra toothbrush?” she asks, still not opening her eyes.
“Sadly, no. I don’t have visitors.”
Her eyes fly open. She grins. “Liar.”
I chuckle. “I’m not lying. You’re the only one who has been in this bed since I got it.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” she says. Then she stops. “God, I sound like Pop.”
“Sorry, no extra toothbrushes,” I whisper. The quiet of the room is almost intimidating. The intimacy is fearsome. I’ve been naked with women and not had this kind of intimacy. I still have my socks on, and I’m pretty sure that Gabby slept in her bra. “Did you sleep okay?” I ask.
She yawns. “I don’t know. I was asleep.” She stretches, rolling to her back as she grins, lifting her arms high above her, lengthening her body. She exposes a strip of her stomach, so I place my hand there. She freezes, but when she lowers her arms, she doesn’t shove my hand away.
“I like having you in my bed. I think you should make it a regular thing,” I whisper as I hook my arm around her and pull her closer to me so that her side is against my front.
“No can do,” she says. “Pop told me not to get pregnant. And I always do what Pop tells me to do.”
“Bullshit. You do the opposite so that he’ll gripe at you.” She snorts. Her voice is nasally from sleep, and I love her soft and warm like this.
“True,” she agrees. “He wouldn’t respect me otherwise.”
I jostle her by tightening my arm. “Hey, can I ask you something?” I say quietly.
“You can ask. And I might even answer. What do you want to know?” She tips her head to the side so she can look at me.
“Last night, when Jake called you his daughter, you got a little emotional. What was that about?”
She freezes, and I can tell I’ve touched a sore spot. “Nothing, really,” she says.
“It wasn’t nothing,” I say. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I try to let her off the hook because I’ve obviously made her uncomfortable.
“It’s just…” She stops. “It’s hard to explain. Jake’s not my dad, and he’s never tried to be my dad. He’s always been very respectful of my father, and he even has a picture of my mom and dad and the three older kids—my dad’s kids—on the wall.”
“That’s generous of him.”
“He has always respected my dad’s memory.”
“So, he never acted like a dad? Ever?” I ask.
She snorts again. “Oh, no, he acted like a dad all the time. He just never called himself a dad. There’s a difference.” She rubs her nose with the palm of her hand like it’s itchy. “Like when you came to see me at Lake Fisher, and he slammed the door in your face. Or when I got my heart broken by a boy, he blustered around like a big old bear with a thorn in his paw for a day, trying to come up with ways to make the boy pay. He has always acted like a dad, but I’ve never asked him to be my dad, and he’s never asked me to be his daughter. It just was. So, last night, when he said he’d called his daughter, it just surprised me. That’s all.”
“Do you want to be his daughter?” I’ve heard her call him her Jake many times. But she’s never called him her dad.
“See, that’s the thing. I think I am his daughter. He can’t replace my dad. But somehow, I became his daughter, too. I know it sounds weird. It’s hard to explain unless you have a blended family.” She looks at me. The room is cast with shadows caused by heavy drapes, but I can still see her. “I love him like a dad. I just didn’t know he loved me like a daughter. Not until he called me one. And that was the first time he’s done it.” She shrugs like she’s suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s all.” She rolls to face me, her head propped on her hand. “Where’s your dad? Do you see him often?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine.”
“Oh.”
“He didn’t even come to my mom’s funeral,” I blurt out.
“Why didn’t you go and live with him after your mom died?”
“He offered to let me come and stay with him, but he refused to take my sisters. I couldn’t leave them. Their dad had a new family by then, so he didn’t want them. I didn’t know my dad, anyway. I saw him once a year, tops. He rarely paid child support, and he never asked for visitation.”
“That’s sad. He’s missing out.”
“He called Aunt Sky after he saw me on the TV show one time. He wanted to see if he could borrow some money. Apparently, he thought I had some to spare from the show.”
“Do you get paid for the show?”
“A little. Matt insisted on it. I didn’t ask for it. That’s how I pay for school.”
“They don’t pay?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I think they do pay. They just tell me it’s my earnings from the show so that I won’t feel weird about it. The amount they transfer to me is the amount of my tuition and housing each semester.”
“That’s nice of them.”
“I have a trust from my mom’s life insurance, too, but I can’t touch it until I’m thirty. My mom said no one my age should have that much money. She was right.”
“Your mom was pretty special.” She reaches out and lifts the gold pendant that I wear on a chain around my neck. Sky gave it to me the first Christmas after my mom died. It has an etching of me and my mom on it.
“She was.”
“Do you feel like you missed out on what could have been?”
“Not really. Do you?”
She shakes her head. “What I have is pretty great. Do I wish my dad were here to share it with me? Yes. But I’ve got a pretty great life. My mom is my best friend. We talk about everything.”
I grin. “Do you talk about me?”
She tips her head. “Only every time we talk.” She snorts again.
“What does she say?” I hold my breath, suddenly afraid.
“She told me to stop spraying you with mace. And suggested that I just ask you about Mimi.” She holds up a finger. “And she made it seem like it would be an excellent idea if I just ask you out already.”
“You should just ask me out already,” I whisper with a nod.
She giggles. “I’ll think about it.”
“Jake probably thinks I’m not good enough for you.”
She snorts again. “Jake thinks no one is good enough for me. That’s what dads do.” Her eyes open wide. “Oh, my God! That’s what dads do. Why didn’t I ever see it before?”
“He knows.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
“Do you think your mom would like me?” she suddenly asks, holding her breath. I could hear a pin drop in the room.
“My mom would love you.” I tweak her nose, and she giggles again.
“I’m loud and opinionated,” she warns. “And you’ll never be able to beat me at cards.”
“My mom was loud and opinionated, too. She’d love you. She was sick for a long time. She had cancer, and then it went into remission, and then it came back with a vengeance. It felt like I blinked, and she was gone.”
“We had military personnel show up at our house to tell us our dad died overseas. We never got to see him again.”
“That’s awful.”
“Sometimes I wonder if anticipating death is worse than a surprise death. I don’t know the answer.”
“My mom left a list of things for me to know when I started dating. I have it in a drawer.”
“Can I see?” she asks.
“No, because I’m going to use the list to make you fall in love with me.” I laugh, but I am completely serious.
“Oh, okay. Thanks for the warning.” She giggles.
Her phone chirps from where she left it on my nightstand. I reach over to grab it and hand it to her.
“Oh, crap,” she says as she reads the text. “I was supposed to meet Tasha for a photo shoot.” She tosses the covers back. “I have to go home and get ready.”
“What kind of photoshoot?” I ask as she scrambles to get her shoes on.
“Some couples thing. I think we’re supposed to look like we’re doing engagement photos or something. I don’t really know.”
“You’re doing it with a guy?”
“Yeah, in the park.” She leans over and absently kisses my lips. Then she freezes. “Whoops,” she says. “Didn’t mean to do that.” She grins. “It just felt right.”
It did. It felt just right. So right that I want to do it over and over again. With her. And only her.
“Text me later?” she asks as she slips out the door.
“Later,” I reply. Two minutes later, I’m already wondering if it’s too soon to text her.