Chapter 30
Gabrielle
Finals week was brutal, but it had its perks—chief among them, Cal taking over the cooking and dishes so I could study.
He stood at my sink, sleeves pushed to his elbows, water sluicing over the dinner plates.
His black collared shirt clung to the lean lines of his body.
His coffee-colored hair was slightly mussed, that one rebellious lock falling across his forehead as he worked.
A kitchen towel hung loosely over his shoulder, and he looked so utterly at home that my heart ached.
I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, calculus book open and notes strewn around me like leaves.
The numbers and symbols blurred together, tangled and stubborn, refusing to resolve into anything meaningful.
My gaze kept drifting back to him—caught in the tempo of his movements, in the way he belonged so completely in this space. With me.
He glanced up, catching me in the act. “Back to work, love,” he called, a teasing lilt in his voice. “That calculus exam won’t pass itself.”
I groaned theatrically and let my head fall onto the coffee table with a soft thud. “It should,” I mumbled into the wood, though I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
He laughed, low and warm, and the sound wrapped around me, softening the edges of my frustration. “You’ll do brilliantly,” he said, rinsing the last plate and setting it in the rack with a satisfied clink.
I lifted my head, propping my chin in my hands. “How’s your workload?” I asked, watching as he wiped his hands on the towel and slung it over the faucet.
“Rather light, actually.” He moved to the couch, his presence filling the room with a quiet, electric ease. “Other than marking exams, I’m essentially done for the term.”
I tracked his movements as he settled beside me, the cushions dipping under his weight. He pulled a thick folder from his soft-sided briefcase and tapped it with a red pen. “You study,” he instructed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll grade quantum physics finals.”
We worked in companionable silence, the room filled with the rustle of paper, the scratch of his pen, the soft brush of pencil against my notes. Every so often, I’d sneak a glance at him—the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the deft movements of his hands as he marked each exam.
Time slipped by, measured only by the soft ticking of the clock and the growing stack of graded papers beside him. There was a strange comfort in knowing he was there, just an arm’s length away, sharing this small piece of life with me.
At last, I got tired of the numbers refusing to arrange themselves into anything comprehensible. I snapped the calculus book shut and leaned back against the cushions with a sigh.
He looked up, a playful arch to his brow. “Finished?”
“If it’s not in my brain by now,” I said, stretching my arms overhead, “it never will be.”
His eyes lingered on me, a tender warmth there that made my chest tighten.
I popped to my feet and rummaged through my purse. “Before I forget…” I pulled out my wallet. “I need to give you your credit card back.”
He shook his head as he stood, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Absolutely not. Hang on to it, in case anything else comes up.”
I hesitated, heat rising in my cheeks. “Are you sure? I…might have gotten a bit carried away.”
“Positive.” He slipped the card back into my wallet with easy authority, his fingers brushing mine. “Did you get everything you needed for the trip?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Come see.”
I led him into the bedroom, where two half-packed suitcases spilled onto the floor with the aftermath of a shopping spree. New clothes hung in my closet, tags still dangling from their sleeves.
His eyes widened slightly as he surveyed the scene. “Did Isabel help you figure out what to buy?” he asked, his tone apologetic. “I know I’m useless when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“She was great,” I said, though guilt prickled beneath my words. “I hate bombarding her with questions while she’s knee-deep in wedding chaos.”
Cal plucked a deep violet cocktail dress from the closet, its satin shimmering under the light. “I really like this one.” He turned to me, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I can’t wait to see you in it,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Then take it off of you.”
I swatted him lightly on the arm, but a shiver of anticipation curled through me. He caught my wrist, pulling me into him with a swift, playful motion.
“Do we really have to dress up for dinner every night?” I asked, dread creeping into my voice. “I thought Isabel was joking.”
He laughed, a rich, unguarded sound. “It’s not bloody Downton Abbey, but yes. The family is…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Traditional.”
I groaned, burying my face in his chest. “I don’t know how I’m going to get all this into two suitcases.”
“Then take a third.” He rested his chin on the top of my head, the motion tender and reassuring. “Pack what you can, and don’t stress. I suspect Isabel will have a few things waiting for you there.”
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “You’re joking.”
“She likes you.” He kissed my forehead. “And she’s thrilled I’m finally bringing someone home. Between you and me, she doesn’t much care for my brother’s wife, Caroline. But if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”
I ducked away with a half-smile and returned the dress to the closet—anything to keep my hands busy. “I just don’t want to epically screw up in front of your family. I already feel like an impostor.”
“You won’t, and you’re not,” he said, gentler now. “You’re exactly who I want them to meet. Who I want them to know.”
I turned toward him, heart soft and sore and full.
But before I could speak, he wandered a few steps across the room, attention drifting.
His gaze landed on my desk, where my laptop sat closed and two letters lay stacked beside it—cream stationery, embossed university seals at the top.
One from Southern Methodist University, the other from the University of Texas at Dallas. I hadn’t realized I’d left them there.
He picked them up and scanned the text. “When were you planning to tell me?”
I blinked. “Tell you what?”
He held up the letters like they spoke for themselves. “Accepted to the engineering programs at both SMU and UTD? Gabrielle!” He looked at me, eyes bright and disbelieving. “This is incredible. Why didn’t you say anything?”
A flush crept up my neck. “I figured I’d tell you when I decided what to do. I have until July first to commit.”
He shook his head, caught between pride and exasperation. “And you weren’t even going to mention it?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal.” The words tumbled out too fast. “They’re both excellent, but I’m not sure which to choose.”
“What’s holding you back?”
I hesitated. “UTD is great, and I could swing it without taking on debt. But SMU…” I shifted. “It’s so expensive. I qualified for a scholarship, but it’s still going to be a lot.”
He set the letters down on the desk. “Don’t worry about that.”
I pulled a face. “You can’t just say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s not.” He stepped toward me, slow and deliberate. “Where do you want to go?” His voice was calm and steady, like the answer was all that mattered.
The quiet thickened. He held my gaze, waiting, and I felt the truth rise in me, unshakable. “I want to go to SMU,” I said at last. “I do. But I can’t let you—”
“You can,” he interrupted, already knowing. “And you should. I want to do this for you.”
I shook my head, letting out a small, incredulous laugh. “Fixing my car or beefing up my wardrobe is one thing,” I said, knotting my fingers. “Subsidizing college is another.”
“It’s an investment,” he said, reaching for my hands. “And one I’m more than willing to make.”
I felt the familiar pull of him—like gravity—the way he made everything seem possible and within reach.
Still, I held my ground, my stubborn streak refusing to let him carry this too.
“We’ll talk about it later.” I kissed his cheek.
“Because it won’t make a lick of difference if I don’t make it through my last two finals. ”
“Calculus and…”
I nudged him, a playful challenge in my smile. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“Ah, physics…” He trailed his fingers up my spine, slow and deliberate. “Then let me help you…”
“You mean distract me?”
He slid a hand between my legs, claiming my breath in one swift motion. “I prefer to think of it as…relaxing you.”
His touch pressed warm and insistent through the soft fabric of my leggings. I tipped my head back, a faint shiver running through me as he brushed his lips along my neck, lingering and tender.
“Cal,” I breathed, a halfhearted protest that melted into a sigh.
He shifted his weight, coaxing us both toward the bed. “Yes?” he asked, the word a drawn-out rumble against my skin. He slipped warm fingers beneath my waistband, his touch electric. I drew in a sharp breath, dizzy with want but still clinging to some thread of responsibility.
“I really do need to study,” I murmured, the protest faint and feeble.
He let out a low, wicked laugh that sent a jolt of heat straight through me. In one breath-stealing motion, he tossed me onto the bed, his body quick and sure above mine.
“Ask me anything,” he whispered, peeling my leggings and panties away in a slow, deliberate tangle.
His touch was teasing and relentless, until I could barely remember why I was supposed to resist. “I don’t want to take advantage,” I said, the words tumbling out, uneven.
He stilled, a sly grin curving his mouth. “You’ve never asked for help in my course outside of class or office hours,” he said, fingers grazing across my skin, unraveling my defenses. “Not once.”
I bit back a gasp as he thumbed my clit. My body yielded to his touch, aching. “I’m trying to keep…separation of church and state,” I managed, my voice catching.