Chapter 23

River

My lips tour Gabriel’s, and my hands, hungry to punish him somehow, roam hastily against his suit coat and around his back, finding his lat muscles. He’s so strong, solid, and commanding—everything that would have made my knees go weak not long ago.

Now? His jealous display that I can’t noodle out has me coaxing his lips in a cadence and rhythm I’ve never known before. I’m angry—I want to kiss him so vehemently that he’ll never forget it.

Because he’s being childish.

He digs his fingers into the small of my back as he clamps me tighter to him, his lips burning me.

So this is what angry kissing is like, huh?

I sense a shift in him as a low moan reverberates from his lungs and through his bones. His anger gives way to want. Need and want. Toss in my desire to make him pay for acting so ridiculous about Antonio and there’s a whole mess of stuff happening in my head.

But not with the rest of me because these sensations are everything, a yearning and an ache. His hands are rough on my hips through the brocade of my wedding gown. And I respond on autopilot with a growl over my throat and tongue.

This has escalated quickly.

When that registers in my brain, I step back, and then remember why I even kissed him in the first place.

“Dad,”

Gabriel says, wiping his mouth and tempering his breathing.

Had Gabriel even known he was there? When we started kissing, his father was behind him, but now he’s made his way around to face both of us. Or were we the ones moving during the kiss?

Either way, I know my makeup is smeared and my lips are most definitely swollen and tender.

Thomas Tate’s hands are casually jammed in his pockets. His jaw ticks.

“Gabriel. River.”

He tilts his head at each of us, and there’s a lingering stare in my direction that has me feeling like I need to pee.

Yup. Gabriel’s dad really does not like me.

“M-Mom did a great job with the reception,”

I offer. I’ve never called Celine “Mom”. . . never intended to. I glance at Gabriel, who frowns, his gaze on the scenery across the lake.

“Yes, she did,”

Thomas concurs. “Someone had to do something. Can’t have a Tate go off and get eloped, can we.”

But it’s a statement, not a question.

“We . . . well, circumstances being as they are, it made sense.”

How does one explain to their fake father-in-law why they got married, without him knowing it was fake?

“We don’t need to explain ourselves to anyone, River,”

Gabriel assures, sliding his hand in mine.

My lips are still pulsing, and I resist the urge to run my fingertips over them—a sort of tactile reliving of what happened.

“But yeah,”

Gabriel continues. “We’re grateful to Mom for throwing us this party.”

Thomas only nods. “How is married life for the two of you?”

His eyes narrow on me and then Gabriel.

“Amazing.”

I hope I don’t sound defensive. But I might, a little.

“I heard you’re living up on the mountain.”

Thomas gestures to the ridge high above us. It’s starting to get dark, so despite Celine’s carefully planned lighting, it’s getting harder to see.

“We are,”

Gabriel says. “It’s a nice little place nestled into the trees.”

“Sebastian and Elianna are your neighbors, apparently. But they’re giving you some time before they come knocking on your door.”

“Well, we’d love to have them over to the cottage. We’d love to have everyone over.”

Gabriel’s hand tightens in mine. Is that a natural reaction to the thought of his dad in our home or is he trying to tell me something?

An echo of sadness hits me. I know Gabriel and his father used to be close. I hope this marriage helps heal that bond they used to have. “But not all at once, obviously, because there’s not enough room.”

Thomas nods as if he knows full well the size of our house. And why wouldn’t he? He probably knows a lot more than he’s letting on about this whole situation. I shiver at the thought and lean in closer to Gabriel. My feelings for Gabriel are complicated right now, certainly, but dang it, I’m going to play the part of the loving wife if it kills me.

That kiss killed me.

Utterly wrecked me. Which is a disaster in and of itself.

“There you are,”

Celine’s voice rings out in the night air and she lifts her dark maroon gown as she picks her way through the thick grass to us.

She slides in close, lifting her arms to hug us each individually.

“The reception is beautiful,”

I say. “I’m grateful to you.”

I’m surprised when a lump forms in my throat. Referring to her as “Mom”

was as foreign as if I’d spoken Tagalog. I haven’t called anyone that for so long.

“It was an honor. Thank you for letting me.”

She sighs and tosses a glance through the trees at the intimate event going on without us. “It was my first big project since I got sick. I’m happy I had the energy.”

“What about the photo albums? I thought that was your big project, Celine.”

Thomas’s voice is gruff, but the way he looks at her, it’s clear he’s completely in love with her.

“It was.”

She laughs. “But the kids helped with it so much it didn’t seem hard at all. I need to show you photos of Gabriel. Please tell me you’ve seen pictures from his childhood.”

“A few, yes.”

“Good because you have to see what your future children could look like. Spoiler alert, they’re going to be adorable.”

She smiles and cuts a glance at Thomas.

The lump in my throat gets larger and larger and I’m scared I won’t be able to swallow at all. I open my mouth to say something. Anything.

There won’t be any children from us. There never was going to be.

So why do I feel something like loss now?

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