19. Gabe
19
GABE
I rub my chest, trying to ease the ache inside my ribs.
“Everything okay?” Kingston asks from the other side of the back seat.
Can he tell I’m stewing? Probably.
My guy seems to have a sixth sense about things like that.
The SUV bounces over manhole covers and uneven pavement on the way back to our apartment building. I’m pleased with how the day went and have a good feeling about the new designer and her team, but there’s something not quite right.
I’m happy for Alex and Katherine because, deep down, I know that he needs time off. A real vacation where he’s not on his phone. He thinks I don’t see him checking in with his team, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know his habits.
I have no idea how he managed to clear his schedule so last minute, but then, he’s a force of nature. And for Katherine, I’m pretty sure he’d move mountains.
So yeah. I’m happy for him. But there’s also a part of me that’s sad. That must be the cloak of melancholy I can’t seem to shrug off. I don’t want to examine the feeling too closely, so I nod.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Yachts, sandwiches, or Alex?”
I turn and look at him. He’s so freaking open. Like a puppy who’s never been hit. Is it youth or character? Not that he’s that much younger than me.
Still, he’s lucky.
“What makes you think it’s one of those?”
“Educated guess.”
“That sandwich was amazing,” I say to buy myself time. Well, that’s not exactly true. It’s not just time, but privacy.
While I don’t doubt my driver’s loyalty, there are some things I can’t risk. My friendship with Alex will always be at the top of that list.
Kingston looks away, leaning toward the door. “Yeah. Anthony knows how to make ’em.”
He leaves me to my thoughts, which I’m not sure is a good thing. Sometimes, getting lost in my own head can be a dangerous thing. I tend to overthink when left to my own devices, which is why I keep busy.
???
“Want to watch a movie?” he asks as we step onto the elevator.
I have a report to read, and I wanted to research quantum computing related to finance. And given that I was out of the office today, a little voice whispers, ‘You’re behind.’
Fuck it. What’s the point of working so hard if I can’t take time off and enjoy myself?
Whether I’ll feel guilty the whole time is a different matter entirely.
“Sure. My place?”
“Sounds good.” He pulls out his phone, his thumb moving swiftly over the screen as the elevator soars toward the sky.
I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it. I find him fascinating. But when he worries his lower lip, that little hint of vulnerability makes me curious.
Is something bothering him?
“What are you thinking? Action? Sci-Fi? Fantasy?” He pegs me with a look that makes my stomach tighten.
I ignore it and shove my hands in my pockets.
“You don’t strike me as a rom-com guy,” he adds.
“I don’t mind a romance.” Why do I sound so defensive? “But I like it better when it’s woven into a fantasy world.”
The corner of his mouth curls up, and I have to force myself to stay put. The way his blond hair curls over the tops of his ears is utterly distracting, and my fingers tingle, wanting nothing more than to sink deep.
“I would have guessed you were a Star Wars fan.” His green eyes sparkle as if he’s delighted by this newfound information.
I shrug. “I like Lord of the Rings better.”
His attention drops back to his phone. “Never saw it.”
“What?” The word bursts from my lips. Or maybe my soul, I can’t be sure.
He chuckles and pockets his phone as the elevator levels out. “I guess we’ve found our movie.”
I glance at the watch on my wrist. “Too bad we don’t have time for a proper marathon.”
“How long is it?”
As we step off the elevator, I explain the difference between the theatrical version and the extended.
“It’s an extra two hours? That’s an entire movie.”
His incredulity makes me laugh, and damn, it feels good. I clap him on the shoulder and give him a little nudge toward the hall. “Come on, virgin.”
He stops. “Who you calling a virgin? You were there the other night.”
“When it comes to the masterpiece that is Lord of the Rings , you’ve still got your V-card. Come on, I think you’ll like Legolas.”
I wave him in front of me as we enter the theater room. The furniture’s been moved back to its original position, but my mind immediately remembers it crowded together, creating a massive bed for the four of us.
Like me, King pauses. Is he remembering our night together? Feeling Katherine between us? I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more free. More like me.
He steps forward, trailing a hand along the back of the sectional, petting the soft fabric.
“Are you really okay with them going off together?”
He asks the question I’ve been pondering since Alex sent us that text. Since we looked at each other across the old faux wood table in Anthony’s Deli, searching each other for an answer.
Ultimately, we’d told Alex to go for it.
What else were we going to say? Anything short of ‘Have a great time. Bring us back a croissant and an Eiffel Tower paper weight.’ was sure to be the wrong answer. They’re our best friends.
I don’t even have to ask King because I already know his answer. Katherine’s happiness is everything to him. Just like Alex’s happiness is everything to me.
“We knew they were going to have their own date,” I say. “We all are.”
He nods, still not looking at me. The tension rises, and my heart rate picks up.
“What about you?” I ask. Is he not as into sharing as he wants Katherine to think he is?
That can’t be right. He was totally into it. Just like I was.
“Yeah, I’m okay with it. It’s just weird. Being here without her. She’s one of the only reasons I come back to New York. I could meet my family anywhere. My mom’s in Italy a few times a year. My sisters love Greece.”
He turns and leans back against the sofa, legs stretched out, hands resting by his hips.
My BS meter is quiet, not detecting anything amiss. But there’s definitely something he’s not telling me. Which isn’t surprising. We hardly know each other.
I’m not about to divulge my darkest secrets to him. I shouldn’t expect him to return the favor.
“Popcorn?” I ask.
“Definitely.”
I cross to the built-in bar where an old-fashioned-looking popcorn machine sits, measure out the popcorn, and load it into the machine. There’s also a concession-style shelving unit full of candy and a mini fridge beneath with assorted beverages and beers. I jut my chin toward it.
“Help yourself. There’s beer.”
“You guys live very well, which is saying something, given the street I grew up on.”
Pride fills me like a helium balloon. “That’s the goal. That’s been the goal since the moment I left Nebraska. All it took was one look at Boston, the houses in Beacon Hill, the sailboats gliding over the water, the skyscrapers standing tall.”
He reaches into the small refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of beer and holds it up to me. “Want one?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“This is a long way from Nebraska,” he muses.
“Yeah. I don’t miss having to share a room with my brothers, that’s for sure.” Mostly, I don’t miss trying to hide all my books or read beneath the covers. Those fuckers always told on me for staying up too late.
“All I have are sisters.”
“Lucky.” And I mean it. The man has a natural advantage where Katherine’s concerned. Growing up around women gives him an understanding I’ll likely never have.
I both love and hate the way women are such a mystery. Except that Katherine seems like an open book now that I’ve gotten to know her. She’s not strung as tight as I once believed. That’s all a facade she lives behind. Like a bubble that protects her.
Once the air is heavy with the scent of buttered popcorn, I queue up the first movie, and we settle on the sectional, legs stretched out, the bowl between us.
“Still can’t believe you’ve never seen this.”
“I was busy.”
With a tap of a button on the programmable remote, the lights around the room dim, and the curtains close, cocooning us. King’s right. We live very well, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
This room was worth every penny. As a child who never got control over the remote, this space is something I could only dream of.
As Frodo begins his journey, I sneak a glance at my new friend. He’s utterly absorbed, just as I thought he would be. He’s an outdoorsy type who likes his freedom, so I have no doubt all the action will resonate.
We reach into the bowl at the same time, and our fingers brush beneath the sea of butter-covered popcorn. A tingle of awareness races up my arm. Does he feel it, too?