CHAPTER EIGHTEEN GABRIELLE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
G AbrIELLE
T he sun shines brightly overhead as I stroll down Main Street. A light breeze matches my happy-go-lucky energy, which is due, largely, to the vivid memories of the last few days.
Life with Jay since our agreement to see where things could go between us has been nothing short of wonderful. His good-morning and end-of-the-day texts are ridiculously sweet. We’ve sat on the porch swing after the kids have gone to bed and laughed until we’ve cried. He comes by for lunch every day, and it ends more often than not with me being the main course.
I never knew things could be this good.
I’m not sure what I expected things to be like, mostly because I never expected this to happen with Jay. He was so grumpy and reticent when we first met. He’d certainly mastered the art of keeping people at arm’s length, which hurts my heart to think about. But now? It’s just so ... easy being with him. It’s natural. It’s right. And every time we’re together, whether for a quick minute or a few stolen hours, we just click a little more.
“Hey, beautiful. Where are you headed?”
I slow my speed and grin without looking at the truck crawling beside me. “Actually, I’m prowling around town looking for a hot carpenter. Know where I can find one?”
“It’s your lucky day.”
I laugh and turn toward Jay’s truck. The passenger’s side window is down, giving me a clear view of his handsome face.
“What are you doing in town?” I ask. “I didn’t think you’d be free for lunch today.”
“Well, I had to grab a few things from the hardware store and figured I’d swing by your house to say hello.”
His wicked grin tells me it was for more than to say hello.
“Sounds like it’s not my lucky day at all since I’m not home,” I say.
“What brings you to town?”
“It’s too pretty of a day to sit around.” I flash him a mischievous smile. “And I really wanted to change the ceiling fan in the living room, but—”
“It’s electrical.” He shakes his head, amused. “I have a better idea. Want to grab a sandwich at Betty Lou’s?”
“With you? I’d love to.”
He throws the truck in park and reaches over the console to open the door for me. I climb in, not quite seated before he kisses me.
“So what have you done today?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.
He expects an answer after such a sweet, dizzying kiss?
“Cleaned up breakfast and did laundry. Then I worked on a new name list that’s been plaguing me a bit. The woman asked for insect-inspired names because her husband is a ... whatever-ologist who plays with bugs. I put Cricket on there, obviously. But the rest of them feel so yuck .”
We pull into Betty Lou’s parking lot and get out of the truck.
“What about Beetle?” Jay asks, taking my hand. “Or Mantis.”
I lift a brow. “I don’t think either name will make the final cut.”
“ Come on. Mantis could work. It’s strong.” He opens the door. “Masculine.”
“Did you know it’s well documented that female mantises bite off the heads and consume other body parts of males after mating?”
“And how do you know that?”
I laugh. “I have two sons and they both had an insect era.”
We sit at a table in the corner beside a window facing the street. The pampas grass next to the Betty Lou’s sign needs a trim, and the whiskey barrels on the front porch have seen better days. Still, the restaurant is quite charming.
“What’s the hardest name list you’ve ever been asked to put together?” Jay asks.
“Ooh, this is tough. Someone asked for a list inspired by national parks. I thought that would’ve been easy, but I struggled with it for a while. Oh! One lady gave me her grandmother’s name, which was four names that didn’t go together, and asked me to give her ten combinations of names inspired by that. There’s only so much you can do with Maude Brandy Sheila Cooke.”
Jay smiles.
“What about you?” I ask. “What’s the hardest job you’ve ever done?”
“It has more to do with the customer than it does the actual job. I can build pretty much anything, and I enjoy a challenge. So the harder something is technically, the more likely I am to like it. But sometimes you get a customer that asks for something they think they want. You build it to spec, and then they hate it. Then they don’t want to pay. That’s when things get tense. It’s people, man. People are the hard part of everything.”
“True, because I wanted to be a hairstylist for about five seconds in high school. That lasted until one day when I was in a salon getting my hair colored and a woman came in and handed a stylist a picture of a celebrity. She was determined that she was going to get that specific cut. The stylist kept trying to gently convince her it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted. So the stylist cut it and the lady bawled . She thought she was going to look just like Angelina Jolie and was distraught that she didn’t.”
Jay starts to respond, but his attention is drawn over my shoulder. His features shift into an amused annoyance. Before I can turn to investigate, a bubbly, college-aged girl appears at our table.
“Hey, Jay,” she says, obviously teasing my man. A laugh is on the tip of her tongue as she turns to me. “Hi! I’m Taylor. Welcome to Betty Lou’s, and I have to mention how freaking pretty you are.”
“Wow.” My face heats as I look at a smirking Jay. “Um, thank you, Taylor. That’s really unexpected but also very kind.”
She smiles. “I’m going to be honest.”
“Taylor . . .” Jay says, sighing.
She ignores him. “I’ve been trying to set Jay up with my boyfriend’s mother for months, and he’s turned me down every single time. He doesn’t even consider it. Lark gives him hell about it, too, but Jay has rudely blown me off without a thought.” She stands taller. “Now I see why.”
He turned her down?
Jay crosses his arms over his chest and watches me.
“Jay, my guy, I get it and I’m sorry,” Taylor says. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”
“Water with lemon, please,” I say.
“Make it two—with less commentary next time, please,” Jay says.
Taylor laughs all the way to the kitchen.
My curiosity is piqued, and I lean against the table, ready to dig in. But before I can say a word, Jay leans forward too.
We’re separated by the napkin dispenser and a small space of laminated tabletop. Lunch patrons buzz around us. But the look in Jay’s eyes makes the outside world disappear, and it might just be the greatest feeling of all time.
“So,” I say, grinning. “You’re getting hooked up on the side, huh?”
“You heard her. She said that I’ve turned her down for months.”
“Why? Have you seen the mom? Is she not your type?”
He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. “I don’t need to see her to know she’s not my type.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” he says, staring at our connected palms, “I met this woman recently. And since then, she’s all I’ve been able to think about. Granted, sometimes it’s because she’s driving me nuts.”
I laugh, squeezing his hand in mine.
He smiles. “But she’s the only woman that’s caught my interest in a long damn time. Hell, I didn’t even want to be interested in her but couldn’t help myself.”
“She must be amazing.”
“She is. And every day we spend together, I hope there’s another one to follow. She says she wants to live again.” His smile fades into the shy grin that melts my heart. “But I didn’t even realize I wasn’t living until I met her.”
The bridge of my nose pinches like it does just before tears flood my eyes. How does he do that? His words touch me in a way he’ll never understand. It’s not only because I know this is difficult for him to share but also because he’s slowly proving to be the kind of man I was too scared to even dream about.
I was content in my marriage to Christopher. He was kind, responsible, and dependable. Loyal. He was an amazing father. We had great conversations and chose vacation spots with ease. I was proud to be his wife.
When he brought up divorce, despite knowing it was for the best, I was still crushed. I realized quickly that it wasn’t because I was losing him , specifically, that was devastating, though. It was being married to a man who I thought had been the “perfect” husband, who didn’t want to fight for our marriage, that hurt. I wasn’t enough. And that he could let me go so easily.
That was the point of my pain.
I’ve been scared to dream for something bigger than my marriage. I didn’t realize that I was doing it until meeting Jay. My sights have been set on finding someone to occupy space in my life. A man to make me feel less alone. I simply needed a seat filler, and the few men I dated after my divorce were just that.
But Jay? He could build the damn chair. And he’d do it with the very best wood and without missing a screw—no pun intended.
He’s slowly opening my eyes, and heart, to the possibility that I might have been shortchanging myself all these years. He’s showing me that a man can be my friend and my lover. There can be a roomful of people, and he can see only me .
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, stroking his thumb over the top of my hand.
I force a swallow past the lump in my throat. “Nothing, really. I was just thinking that you’re pretty damn amazing too.”
“I—”
“Gabrielle? Is that you?” A woman I vaguely recognize from my high school home economics class pauses at our table. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Jay slides his hand from mine and winks at me.
“Yes. I’m home,” I say, smiling at Mrs. Weston. “I moved back to Alden with my two boys.”
“Carter?” She scrunches her brows. “And Dylan, isn’t it? Are those your boys?”
I laugh. “I hope that doesn’t mean they’ve been giving anyone any trouble.”
“After my retirement three years ago, I found myself bored out of my mind. So I’ve been volunteering at the school nearly every day. Last week, I was subbing for Carter’s teacher in the elementary.” She laughs heartily. “Gabby, let me tell you that your little boy is the sweetest, funniest little thing.”
Thank God. My shoulders sag. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“Now, your older boy, he’s not quite as ... chipper,” she says, searching for the right word. “I chatted with him for a while the other day in the high school cafeteria. He was very polite and had excellent manners, don’t get me wrong. He just seems like less of a people person than Carter.”
I force a smile. “I think that’s a pretty accurate observation.”
“Well, I can’t wait to get to know them. I’ll tell them I know their mama next time and that might win me some brownie points.”
Or not.
Mrs. Weston turns to Jay. “How have you been, Jay? I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just haven’t seen Gabby in what feels like forever.”
“I’m good. I hope you’re the same, Mrs. Weston,” he says.
“Oh, yes, very well, thank you, Jay,” she answers.
She looks back and forth between the two of us. A cheeky grin slips across her face.
“I’ll let you two get back to it,” she says. “It was great to see you, Gabby. Come visit me sometime. I still live out by the ball fields. You remember where that is, don’t you?”
“Of course. It was good to see you, Mrs. Weston.”
She smiles at us. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Jay nods a goodbye as she walks away.
I settle back in my chair and heave a breath. “You do know that woman is one of the biggest gossips in this town, right?”
“No.”
“Well, she is. Half of the town will know she saw the two of us having lunch together by the time I get back home.”
Jay studies me. “Does that bother you?”
His gaze is heavy on me as I consider his question. My instant reflex is to panic and say yes, it does bother me. I expect that I should want to protect the boys and not have them hear that we’re together. I wait for a string of words to form that explains why having lunch in public might not be a great idea just yet.
This is all so new. And Jay doesn’t want this in the open ... does he?
“Does it bother you?” I ask instead of answering him.
He’s thoughtful before responding. Finally, his eyes lock on mine.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly. “If you want to keep this quiet—especially for the boys—then I understand that. That’s what we’ll do. But if it’s my decision to make, then I don’t care if anyone in this town knows that I’m interested in you. Because I am.” A grin tickles his lips. “I like you, Gabrielle. A lot.”
A rush of warmth floods my veins, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing in relief.
“I like you too, Jay. A lot.”
“How hungry are you?” he asks.
My stomach clenches.
“Because we can stick around and have a burger,” he says. “Or ...”
I stand up. “Or. I pick or .”
His laughter is loud as he gets to his feet. He takes a twenty from his wallet and hands it to Taylor as she walks by.
“We gotta get going,” Jay tells her. “Keep the change.”
Taylor reads between the lines and giggles. “Get out of here before you two set this place on fire.”
Jay takes my hand and practically drags me to the door.