Chapter 29
River
I’m not about to miss work because of a wasp attack. With the baths, calamine, allergy syrup, and ice packs, I’m less lumpy. But I still hurt today, so I have to get up from my desk off and on throughout the day, to relieve pressure from the sting sites. Especially in the places I wasn’t about to ask Gabriel to put calamine on.
I got stung right above my backside, probably due to the loose shorts and too-short t-shirt I threw on yesterday before my walk. And now I can’t reach the sting very well, since I have one on my pointer finger. But thoughts of him helping me do that were . . . too much. Because even in my sorry state, even though I looked a little like a pink Oompa Loompa, I would have enjoyed him applying the lotion too much.
If I’m honest, I did enjoy it too much. The look in those blue eyes of his told me he liked it, too—that he felt empathy that I had wasp venom coursing through my body. He liked helping me, I could tell.
I have that expression on his face memorized. The mix of stress and concern as he gently lotioned my wounds up. The way his fingers painstakingly removed the stingers and dabbed the cotton ball against my skin, and how he held his breath when the cold liquid made me startle.
I liked being taken care of.
And in case you’re wondering, we slept in the same bed last night again. There wasn’t a discussion about it—it just sort of happened. And I was so chock full of poison that it wasn’t romantic.
Scratch that. Of course it was, but not in the way it was two nights ago. Last night was sort of homey and normal. Like we’ve been married for a while—in a good way.
I’ve just walked into a brand management meeting at Tate when my phone rings. It’s Caring Souls. I turn right back around and head back down the corridor. They never call. They never have to because they hear from me plenty.
“Skye is fine,”
the case manager insists. “However, she is having a hard time, emotionally, right now and you asked us to let you know—”
“What happened?”
I swear my heart completely stops.
“We’re not sure. She’s saying something about a lunch lady?”
How does the case manager not know that’s her dog’s name? I breathe in and out, telling myself to give her some grace.
“Her dog’s name is Lunch Lady Liz,”
I say. “Is she crying because she misses her?”
“Oh! That’s probably it.”
“Okay, I’ll come as soon as I can.”
I almost call Gabriel to ask him to drop whatever he’s doing and take the dog and me to Caring Souls. See, world? See? I told you it was a bad idea to let her move there!
But then I remember all that Jana has said about how normal it is for the residents to have bad days sometimes. And I remember Gabriel saying I’m a good sister and that things are going to work out.
I text the person running the meeting to tell them I’ll be there in a minute, and I call Gabriel, but not to ask him to pick me up.
“Hey,”
I say when he answers, my heart rate flitting like a tinkling little brook at his “Hello.”
“How’s work going?”
I ask. I’ve made it back to my office and hearing his voice affects me so much, I have to sit down.
Gabriel told me yesterday more info about the non-profit idea that he and Milo are working on. And it made me tear up. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. But when your husband tells you he’s starting a non-profit that provides scholarships to adults with disabilities for independent living, of course you’re going to cry!
“Writing up grant proposals is no joke,”
he says. “But we’ve found our rhythm. How are you?”
“I’ve been writing press releases about your new non-profit. I know it will be a while until it’s up and running, but I thought I’d get a head start.”
“Well, look at you,”
he says. “Thank you.”
He means it. And now I’m leaning towards him through the phone, like I’m a dog nudging his hand for a nice scrub around the ears.
“I—”
I hesitate, but then let out a sharp breath. “I’d love to help with the new organization, in brand management or any way you might need. It’s exciting and I want to be a part of it.”
“River, I would love partnering with you on this.”
Oh, wow. Already I’m imagining what it would be like to work with him on this project.
I already know, and it would be rewarding, and because he’d be there, I could see it being fun, too.
“Also, Skye’s homesick for Lunch Lady Liz,”
I tell him. “I almost called you to see if you could take me to her right now. But—well, I have a meeting and she’s fine, you know? She’ll be okay. I think they probably have it handled.”
“That’s probably a good thing you’re not rushing over there. Except, maybe she’s stressed about having Antonio in the building. I wouldn’t blame her.”
I give a little snort. “Very funny. And don’t be proud of me. I might call you in an hour demanding we get her ASAP.”
“How about I pick you up right at five, Lunchie in tow, and we go hang out over there for a while?”
“As long as Skye doesn’t hear you calling her Lunchie, it’s a date.”
He makes a brief moaning sound. “Speaking of dates. I want to date you.”
I grin so wide my lips hurt as I slip low in my leather side chair, letting my head fall against the back. “I’m open to the possibilities.”
“That’s a very exciting response, River.”
“Tell me about it.”
I’m smiling hard. There’s an ease here. It almost feels like we’re doing that cheesy thing of You hang up! No, you hang up!
He picks me up at five on the dot, wearing the T-shirt I got him. I start laughing so hard I can barely breathe. This is the third time he’s worn it since last Tuesday. I think he’s determined to make me so sick of it that I actually want to burn it.
“Happy Third Anniversary,”
he says, his eyes smoldering with layers of meaning I can’t wait to pick apart. He hands me a gift wrapped in brown Kraft paper and ribbon. It looks like a book.
“A bow? Now you’re fancy,”
I say. I rip it open and feel, before I even see, the buttery soft leather cover under my fingertips.
I press the tan, leather-bound journal to my nose, then pull it away to read the embossed title. “You’re my ‘leather’ half.”
“It’s a journal, since yours are in storage.”
“Aww. That’s so thoughtful.”
I hug it to my chest. “I love it.”
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.
Fifty-two weeks. Fifty-two gifts exchanged. Except, I don’t want to stop at that. I mean, it could get a little ridiculous sharing gifts every single week. Besides, the traditional anniversary gift list I found stops at sixty.
Which makes sense.
But I don’t want to stop at sixty weeks. I want to keep going and going.
I don’t ever want to stop being Gabriel’s wife.
“My only stipulation about the journal is it has to be filled with entries about me,”
he jokes, his eyes dancing.
“Maybe I should resurrect my old pastime of writing about your dimples.”
And as much as he pesters me about it the rest of the drive to Tollark, I don’t share any more information about this tidbit from my past. By the time we arrive, I’ve almost got him convinced I was making it up. I’m not ready to open up about that, yet.
“You go on ahead,”
Gabriel tells me, holding up his phone to show that Milo’s calling. “I’ll be right in with the dog.”
“Where’s Gabriel?”
Skye says when I enter the game room where she’s watching TV with a couple of the other residents. She eyes me carefully and curls her upper lip. Is she upset that I stopped by?
“Well, hello to you, too.”
I sling a bag down with a new coloring book featuring dogs and cats—and sigh. “Gabriel’s doing some work in the car. He has Lunch Lady Liz, so let’s head out to the courtyard so you can see her.”
“You and Gabriel are in love,”
Skye says matter-of-factly and then proceeds to kiss her own arm, making smooching sounds. Always the class clown. I roll my eyes, but the residents who are gathered around laugh.
“We’re married, so . . .”
An aching stab hits me. We are married. She would assume we’re in love.
I want to be in love with Gabriel.
The thing is, a part of me has already been loving him for over fourteen years. He’s been the one in a small, back corner of my heart this whole time.
And he wants to make this real.
A throbbing right through my stomach hits me. I want to make this real.
Skye and her friends start discussing when they’ve been in love or had crushes. Instead of commenting on her bright purple painted nails or the pink lipstick she’s suddenly started wearing, I settle in at the table and listen. Without my permission, my laughter bubbles up.
Gabriels texts saying he and the dog are in the courtyard now. I tell Skye, and I can’t help reminding her to finish her water bottle as we get up to leave. She rolls her eyes, says, “Okay, mother,”
in a mocking voice, and suddenly I’m the subject of her friends’ laughter as I leave the room.
It’s okay. I don’t need to be popular with the friends.
“I heard you were missing the dog today,”
I say to Skye as we go out the door to the courtyard in the middle of the circular building.
“Yeah,”
she mumbles.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nah.”
Skye grins, grabs me in a light headlock, and laughs. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not if you don’t,”
I say before pushing her away.
And then she’s running towards Gabriel and Lunch Lady Liz, clapping her hands and shouting, “Yeah, boi!”
When I catch up, Gabriel bridges the gap between us and the blue of his eyes sears me. He squeezes me to him. We look on while the dog gives Skye kisses and they roll in the grass.
It’s okay.
Skye is okay.
“Hey, guess what? I like you,”
Gabriel whispers in my ear. He draws away and his gaze dips to my lips.
“It might be more than like, though.”
My voice is tight and there’s not enough air coming out of my lungs.
His eyes expand before he wraps his other arm around me, too.
I’m only a couple of inches shorter than him, but I still ease up on my tiptoes and take hold of his face. I press myself close. But not so close my gaze can’t dart over him, savoring him. “Because it’s more than like for me.”