Chapter 19
ALEX
“?Bienvenidos a Puerto Rico!”
The pilot sounds way too cheerful for someone who’s just spent three hours hauling a metal tube through the sky, but maybe that’s part of the job. I’m already thumbing my seatbelt release before he gets to the next line.
“Clear skies await us today in San Juan, with a lovely temperature of ninety-six degrees Fahrenheit. Enjoy your stay on the island”—he pauses, as if remembering protocol—“and please remain seated until the seatbelt light turns off.”
He really should’ve started with that part.
I power on my phone while shaking out my legs, flexing them just to feel the blood return. Even business class can’t spare my knees from feeling like they’ve been folded in half for three hours.
My phone wakes up with the screen blooming with notifications. Two missed calls from Elijah pop up—both within five minutes of the wheels hitting the ground.
As I step out into the jet bridge, the air swells around me, thick, balmy, and unmistakably Caribbean. Already, I’m feeling relaxed, looking forward to slipping on my sandals.
That’s when my phone pings—Facetime: Teya.
I swipe to answer. “Morning, sis.”
She’s a blur of rumpled hair and half-formed sentences, blinking at me from what looks like the deep end of sleep. “Alex, I got your text,” she mumbles, followed by a yawn big enough to distort the video. “You land yet?”
I adjust the strap on my bag and merge into the river of passengers heading for the baggage claim. “Just got off,” I say. My neck cracks as I roll it from side to side. “Trying to remember when I even texted you.”
“You look like hell,” she says, squinting at the screen as she takes a sip from her mug.
“Gee, thanks.” I run my fingers through my hair, attempting to smooth out my bedhead.
Apparently, three cups of bitter airplane coffee hasn’t done much to fix my disheveled appearance.
Migraine. Stress. Anxiety. Guilt. I tick them off like a doctor listing symptoms. Gotta say… it’s not looking good for me.
I fall into pace with the slow tide of passengers, holding the phone at an angle where I can pretend I’m still engaged.
Teya’s voice drifts on in a long, drawn-out story about something—a neighbor, maybe?
Or dog? I can’t keep track. I give her soft hums, the occasional “mm-hmm,” enough to prove I’m still here.
The hallway bends to the left, and I follow the curve automatically until the crowd thins, and I see the wall of glass overlooking the runway.
And stop dead in my tracks.
Gabriel.
He moves across the tarmac like he’s got nowhere to be, casual and unbothered, headed toward a sleek gray-and-black private jet.
Loose linen pants hang low on his hips, paired with dark-brown sandals and a fitted white tee.
A single bag rolls behind him, his other hand lifting lazily to brush through his thick, sun-streaked hair—those familiar waves tousled perfectly by the wind.
Sunlight catches on his skin. He’s glowing. Effortless. Untouchable.
And I can’t move.
“Hellooo… Alex? Are you listening to me?” Teya’s voice cuts through the haze. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I rub my eyes, hoping—just for a second—that she’s right. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The caffeine crash. The guilt warping my perception.
But nope. He’s still there.
My cell vibrates in my hand, and I glance down. Ana. Perfect timing.
“Teya,” I say, eyes still fixed past my reflection in the glass. “Let me call you back.”
I don’t wait for her reply. I end the call and tap Ana’s name before the screen settles.
Gabriel’s talking to the pilot now, head tilted the way it always tilts when he’s listening—patient, polite, calm. One hand gestures, loose and unbothered, like this is nothing unusual. Like the whole runway is just another place he moves through.
Maybe he does.
I pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd and heading straight for the windows, drawn like a magnet.
Closer. I need to be closer.
The glass cools beneath my palm when I reach it, a shock against the heat that’s already begun to cling to my skin. Outside, Gabriel laughs at something the pilot says, head thrown back just a fraction.
I blink hard, snapping myself back into the moment, remembering the phone is still pressed to my ear.
“Hi sweetheart,” I say, the words catching slightly. I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “What’s with the early morning call? Oh, before you answer… have you talked to your dads yet?”
“Good lord!” Ana groans. “Not you too. What’s with everyone this morning?” A lazy giggle slips in, softened by sleep. “Does anyone sleep anymore? Swear to God, gay guys are all early risers.”
A sneeze cuts her off, sharp and tiny, and then she’s back.
“Anyway—good morning. Dad texted me a few minutes ago. Apparently, you’re missing?” She barrels ahead before I can react. “He was desperate to know if I’d heard from you. Like… morning literally just started five minutes ago, but whatever…”
“Ana—” I try to cut in, but she either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore me.
“So…” she continues, breathlessly. “Now that I’ve officially spoken to you, I can report back to Dad that you’re alive and well. Geesh!”
She finally pauses for air, and I grab the opening in our very one-sided conversation.
“Sweetheart,” I say, eyes locked on the tarmac. “Have you seen Gabriel?”
“You’re joking, right?”
My heart thuds once—hard—then races. I catch a fleeting glimpse of Gabriel’s back as he steps onto the plane.
No.
No, no, no.
A warm breeze lifts his shoulder-length hair, whipping it lazily around his face like it’s just another day. Like he’s not about to vanish into the sky. I press my hand to the glass, willing him to turn around.
Look at me. Just once. Please.
He turns, but only slightly, just enough to shake the pilot’s hand.
That’s it.
A polite gesture.
Turn around, damn it.
The sun catches the plane’s wing at an angle that blinds me. I squint, blinking against the glare, but it’s no use—I can’t see his face. All I get is his shape.
“The gay drama continues…” Ana’s voice snaps me back, startling enough that I almost drop the phone. “Anyway, let me set you all straight.”—she pauses, then laughs—“Oh my god, that’s funny. Like that’s ever gonna happen!”
She sounds far too pleased with herself as she falls into a fit of laughter, making me wonder just how long she’s actually been awake.
“So, let’s see…” she continues, picking up exactly where she left off.
“Have I seen Papi this morning? Normally that would be a big N-O, because it’s stupid o’clock in the morning and everyone is still sleeping—well, except for the gay population, apparently.
” She pauses, letting that sink in. “But! The answer to your question is actually yes. He was the first to call. And do you know what time that was?” Her voice rises. “GAY-O’CLOCK!”
I pull the phone away from my ear as she cackles into the receiver.
“Papi’s always been an early riser, so that’s no surprise. And I really need to stop talking about early risers because I do not want to think about anything rising this early in the morning.”
For heaven’s sake. I nearly choke on my own saliva but manage a weak chuckle instead. By now, her bluntness shouldn’t faze me, but just like her father, she always manages to stay one step ahead. And somehow, it’s always when I least expect it.
“Papi FaceTimed me a little while ago, asking if he could take Emilee and me out for breakfast. Of course, Emilee is still sleeping,” she says, breaking off mid-sentence to yawn.
“Obviously gay time begins earlier than straight time… so there’s that.
” She delivers the line like she’s just made a profound point. “Anyway, we settled on lunch.”
The door to the plane slams shut just as she finishes her ridiculous rant—because of course it does.
“I think he was with Noah,” she slips in, completely unaware that she just stole the breath right out of me. “Looked like they were walking through Central Park. I didn’t actually see Noah, but Papi had that stupid grin—you know, the one he always gets when they’re together.”
“At this time in the morning?” I wonder aloud. Which means if he’s in New York, then that wasn’t Gabriel I just saw boarding the plane.
For Christ’s sake, my guilty conscience is really fucking with me.
Ana drags out a long, theatrical sigh. “Going back to what I said before… gay time, straight time? Remember? Early risers and all that? Are you even listening?” She slurps what I assume is coffee before launching back in.
“Obviously, if they’re walking in the park at this ungodly hour, Noah must be an early riser too…
hence the silly smile on Papi’s face. Are we on the same page here, Mr. J?
” She punctuates her point with another overdramatic sigh.
“Got it. Pretty sure we’re on the same page, sweetheart. Thanks for the mental image,” I reply dryly. “Look, my luggage is about to arrive. I’m gonna call your father and get his ass up.”
“OMG, pleeease keep that to yourself.” She laughs, now buzzing with energy. Honestly, she’s like a walking double shot of espresso—with a side of attitude. But it makes me happy just knowing she’s happy.
“Alright, sweetheart. Tell Emilee I’ll call her later.”
“Alrighty,” she sings, suddenly fully awake and ready to take on the world. “Fingers crossed, Noah comes drama-free. I’m telling ya… you gays are exhausting.”