Chapter 34
GAbrIEL
?Carajo! This bed is uncomfortable.
I shift for the eleventh time, maybe twelfth. I’ve lost count. Restless. Agitated. The sound of silence is crawling inside my skull.
Elijah hasn’t come back. Stormed out hours ago to find Alex. Hasn’t checked in since.
Groaning, I roll onto my back and fumble for my phone, punching in my lover’s number. Please just answer. I need something—a voice, a distraction, a happy place to settle my nerves.
But, of course… nothing.
Straight to voicemail.
Figures.
“It’s gay o’clock in the morning,” my daughter would say, always one breath away from an eye roll when I call too early.
Ugh.
I drain the last of my bourbon, kick the sheets aside, and grab the phone, sending a text off to my boyfriend. Maybe I’ll just show up unannounced—crawl into bed beside him and sleep.
Just sleep.
Maybe.
We’ve been dating for close to seven months, but I have yet to introduce him to Elijah. Not because I’m ashamed. God, no. Elijah would adore him. He’s incredible. Kind. Joyful. The kind of person who lights up a room without even trying. He’s a breath of fresh air.
But still…
I haven’t done it. Because I feel guilty. About everything. Moving on when Elijah hadn’t. Lying to him about Mimi. And not just white lies—big ones. The kind that sinks into your soul and rots.
And the worst part? I know Elijah would never do what I did. Not a chance in hell.
And yet… if I had the chance to go back and undo it all?
I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.
How fucked up is that?
I squeeze my eyes shut. And there they are—Mimi’s piercing green eyes, staring straight at me.
They’re the reason behind my smiles.
Also… the reason I can’t sleep.
Guilt and joy—what a fucking combo.
Christ.
This silence is making me crazy.
And now I’m thinking about her—again. I cover my ears, shove my phone under the pillow, and flip onto my stomach.
But it’s no use.
The memories are already flooding in…
“I should leave,” Mimi tells me.
“No, don’t.” I reach for her dainty wrist and drag her back into the private confines of her rented art studio. It’s bare, but beautiful, just like her.
An awkward silence settles between us as I begin to remove my clothes. Those mismatched green eyes slide down my bare legs along with my pants as they fall to the floor. My boxer briefs follow. Bringing my hand to my balls, I give them a gentle tug, my dick thickening just a little bit.
Starry-eyed, she reaches back and locks the door.
A smug smile lifts from my lips as I stand confidently before her, in all my naked glory.
“Stop teasing me,” she smirks, rolling her pretty eyes. “You’re trying to disturb my creative energy,” she complains, placing her hands on my shoulders and positioning me just the way she needs me. “It’s not going to work, Gabriel. You’ll have to try harder.”
“Oh… you want me harder? I can do harder,” I joke.
Mimi giggles, shaking out her luscious, thick hair. She knows I’m fucking with her. She also knows I’m gay and happily married. I commissioned her to do a nude sketch of me. One I planned on giving to Elijah for his birthday.
Ignoring my ribbing like the professional she is, she walks over to her desk and grabs her sketch pad and pencil. Nudes are nothing new to her. Like me, she’s sketched them before.
It’s actually how we met. Years ago. We’d both attended an art event, sketching an acclaimed nude model, when she approached me afterward, sharing her drawing with me.
Her talent far exceeded her young age of eighteen.
To say I was impressed was an understatement.
I was in awe. Add in her beauty with that mind-blowing talent—I swear, I almost turned straight that day.
Almost.
Her proposition took me by total surprise.
And so did my actions.
“Stop moving.” She snickers. Her focus is on my dick, and her talented hand is frantically pushing the pencil across her sketchbook, aggressively scratching against the smooth surface of the paper.
She’s in a zone, and I stare back at her in admiration.
It’s unreal how much she reminds me of myself. Her artwork is dirty… mine is dirtier.
“Come oon, Gabriel,” she whines, as my dick suddenly decides to become uncooperative and stretches to its full length.
“Oh fuck.” I laugh, not at all embarrassed by this slight mishap. Nothing embarrasses me. Especially not that.
“I’ll move on to your legs as you get that under control.”
“Such the professional,” I compliment, trying my hardest to stand still with a full-on boner.
“Should I call your husband?” she teases, lifting a perfectly shaped brow. Her lips quiver as she tries to hold back a smile.
And then… she cries.
Tears roll down her beautiful face as she turns away and places her sketchpad back onto the desk.
My dick immediately deflates. I step forward and go to her, wrapping her up in my arms. Despite my nakedness, she leans back against my chest—and dick—shoulders trembling as she silently cries.
I press my lips into the crook of her neck and drag my hands up and down her trembling arms while she fights to regain her composure.
“W-What’s her name?” she asks between sobs, still leaning heavily against my bare chest.
“Mimi, don’t. Don’t do this.” I kiss her neck again, but she shrugs my lips off.
So I move my lips to her ear instead, brushing her hair aside with my chin. “Stephania,” I whisper, giving in to what she needs to hear.
“Mm, that’s so pretty.”
Her body relaxes under my gentle caress, shoulders dropping as the tension lessens. She turns around in my arms. “My daughter’s name is Emilee.”
Those beautiful mismatched eyes hold mine hostage as we share a brief acknowledgment of the truth; neither of us wanting to give voice to our deception, so we remain… silent.
A loud shrill from my phone has me bolting upright, banging my head against the headboard in the process, releasing me from my disturbing thoughts and thankfully breaking the silence.
With jittery hands bouncing across the mattress, I go in search of my damn cell. I find it tucked underneath the pillow.
“Hello…” I groan, clearing my throat.
“Gabriel?” My boyfriend’s sweet voice comes rushing across the line. “Is everything alright?” His voice is thick with sleep, but I don’t care.
“It is now, sweetheart.” I exhale. “Just missed you.” A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s 2:23 a.m. For heaven’s sake, I need to get some sleep. I comb my fingers through my unruly hair, brushing it away from my face.
“Would you like to come over?” He yawns.
I’m already up, reaching for a shirt. “Can I? I promise to fuck you really good.”
“Gabriel…” he whines.
I chuckle as I slip into some joggers. “Okay, okay. Settle down. I’m joking. I just really want to cum…OVER,” I emphasize. “I just want to come over.”
He giggles, and my heart leaps with joy. He’s so damn cute.
“The door’s unlocked,” he tells me through a smile.
I always know when he’s smiling. There’s an actual sound to his smiles.
“I’ll be there in two,” I say, pocketing my phone, already reaching for the elevator’s print pad.