Chapter 13
VANESSA
We’re surrounded by boxes of delicious takeout, from potstickers to fried rice to three different kinds of chicken and even a few dessert rolls. It’s incredible food, and I can’t remember the last time I was so full, but all I can think is, He bought me a bed.
I never once expected Gavin to go out and get me a bed.
That was something I was going to do on one of my off days.
In the meantime, I planned on sleeping on the couch, but of course, he wouldn’t let that slide.
No, he had to go and prove just how perfect he is, reminding me once again that this is a bad idea.
It took everything I had not to launch myself at him when he said he bought me the exact bed he sleeps in.
Not just to thank him for the inevitably amazing nights of sleep I’m going to get, but because he took the time to remember something I liked, to do something kind for me when I didn’t ask him to.
I don’t think Neal would’ve ever taken that initiative.
If I were in this situation with him, he would be snuggly in his own bed while I had a fitful night of sleep on the couch.
Or even the floor. He wouldn’t have cared. Not like Gavin does.
I need to stop comparing the two. I know that, but the divorce is still fresh on my mind, especially with my so-called “friends” back in New York texting me about the news that’s spreading like wildfire.
Apparently, Neal and his secretary aren’t just pregnant.
They’re pregnant with twins…and engaged.
Surprisingly, this new information didn’t send me into a spiral when I heard it this morning.
I was mad, yes, but it didn’t break me like I thought it might.
Actually, it made me want to draw. I don’t know why, but for the first time in a really long while, I wanted to pull out my sketchbook and create something pretty and hopeful.
Maybe that means I’m finally moving forward and this starting-over thing really was exactly what I needed.
“Okay, that was a hell of a feast. Remind me to let you do all the ordering from now on.”
Gavin pats his stomach as he rests against the back of the couch, and I try not to think about the abs I know are hiding under his hoodie.
I chuckle, then set my half-eaten carton of chicken chow mein on the coffee table with the rest of the food. “I just pressed a few buttons.”
“Yes, but it was the combination. Those steamed green beans were perfect with the wontons.”
“Guess I need to add ‘excellent at ordering Chinese food’ to my résumé. Maybe it’ll get me somewhere other than slinging drinks at Top Shelf.”
“How’s that going, by the way?”
“What? The bar?” He nods. “I don’t know. It’s fine, I guess. It’s not exactly what I wanted to do with my life, but maybe that’s a good thing. The other plans I had didn’t quite work out either, so why not shift goals entirely?”
“You don’t want a studio anymore?”
His words surprise me. I mentioned that to him once, and that was months ago in New York. How could he possibly remember that?
“You… You remember that?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Got a good memory.”
But I don’t think that’s the case at all. The butterflies I felt in that bar with Gavin make themselves known, letting me know they’re still there and aren’t going anywhere. I’m not quite sure how to feel about that, so I ignore them.
“I haven’t painted in a long, long time. Maybe that dream is for the old me.”
“And you don’t think the old you is still inside you?”
“Sometimes I hope she isn’t.”
“Why?”
“I…” I settle back against the couch. “I don’t know.
There are times when I’m not exactly proud of who I used to be.
I could be mean, and I was certainly selfish.
I spent a lot of my time trying to be this version of myself I thought the world wanted.
I thought if I had a fancy car and a big house and the perfect partner, I was untouchable.
And maybe for a while I was. Then everything came crashing down, and I wasn’t just mean—I was cruel .
To everyone. My dad and my stepmom, even when they let me stay at their place during those first few weeks after I found out about Neal.
I was rude to Reed and Auden when they came for Christmas.
I still can’t believe they took me in when I just showed up on their doorstep.
And I was certainly vicious to Neal’s mistress. ”
“Well, I mean, all things considered…”
“She didn’t deserve that, though. She was a victim like I was. He was her boss. He had power over her. He was the one breaking a promise to someone else. No matter how you look at it, he was the one to blame. I got them both fired from their jobs with the video.”
Gavin sits forward. “Video? What video?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? Not only did I find out my husband was cheating on me, I had video evidence to really hammer it home.
” I laugh, but it’s hollow. “I guess one of the times they got frisky on his desk, he accidentally started recording, and it saved to the cloud account we shared. Imagine my surprise when I went looking for some wedding photos. I was going to have them printed and blown up to hang in our bedroom for our six-month anniversary. Instead, I found the video.”
The dull ache I’ve had in my chest since that day makes itself known, but it’s nowhere near as strong as it once was. Call it growth or letting go or whatever; I’m grateful for it. It gives me a bit of hope that I won’t always be so broken.
When Gavin doesn’t say anything, I dare a glance over at him. His jaw is clenched tightly, and his usually bright hazel eyes have darkened.
“Gavin?”
“Do you want me to kill him?”
I laugh, then laugh some more. Then I realize he isn’t laughing too.
“Come on. You can’t be serious,” I say.
“I am. I’m dead serious. Do you want me to kill him? I don’t know how I’d do it, but I’d do it.”
I chuckle again. “While that is very sweet of you, no, I don’t want you to kill him. I, uh, I kind of like having you around, and prison really isn’t my scene.”
His features soften almost instantly, and he relaxes against the couch once more.
“Thank you for offering, though.”
“Any time.” He throws me a wink. “So, about this whole you-not-painting-anymore thing…have you tried it lately?”
I shake my head. “No, but then again, I haven’t had a lot of time. This move was very spur of the moment, so getting settled has been consuming all my energy.”
It’s the truth, but what I don’t mention is the sketchbook I bought before the flight here, the one I got in hopes that something would light a spark in me and I could draw again. Nothing has though. It’s still sitting blank at the bottom of one of my bags.
He waves his hand. “You’re settled now.”
He’s right, but there’s still something holding me back, and I’m not quite sure just what that is.
Maybe it’s my lingering anger over the divorce, or maybe it’s just that I haven’t felt inspired lately.
Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll figure it out, and I’ll get back into my favorite hobby even if it only remains a hobby.
Besides, do I really think I could open a studio? Once upon a time, I think I would’ve been great at it, but I haven’t been me in so long that I don’t know if I could.
But I don’t tell Gavin all that. I say, “Guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”
He looks like he wants to say something else about that but decides not to, and I’m relieved. I’m not sure it’s something I want to dive further into right now.
He yawns.
“Sorry,” he says through a second one.
“Don’t be. You should probably get to bed anyway. I’m sure you have a long day of travel ahead of you tomorrow.”
“Not too bad of a flight to Southern California, but it’ll feel long with it being the first road trip of the season.”
He pushes to his feet, grabbing a few containers of food, and I follow behind him.
We clean up our dinner mess, and Gavin shows me around the kitchen, pointing out where everything is.
I’m sure I’ll forget half of it by morning, but I love that he’s trying to make me feel at home.
Truthfully, I’m thankful he’s leaving for a few days.
It’s not that I don’t want him around, but it’ll give me time to settle in without things feeling so awkward.
Just like the other night when I stayed here, he makes up his spot on the couch while I get ready for bed in the bathroom. I’m snuggled down in the sheets when he comes into the room.
“All done in there?” he asks.
“Yep. It’s all yours.”
He shuts himself inside the bathroom while I lie there, staring at the ceiling and listening to him move around. This all feels so weird, being in Gavin’s penthouse, sleeping in his bed, putting him out by making him sleep on the couch. I don’t like it one bit.
When he emerges, I’m still lying there, my gaze on the ceiling. I roll over to look at him as he stands awkwardly by the door.
“So, uh, good night, I guess,” he says after a few moments.
“Yeah, good night,” I mumble back.
He gives me a tight smile before heading toward the door, and I hold my breath as I watch him go. I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay, and not just because he has more of a right to this bed than I do. I just don’t want to be lonely.
He’s just about out of the room when I find myself saying, “Gavin, wait.”
He pauses, then slowly turns back to me.
“Stay.”
“What?” he asks, though he doesn’t look taken aback by my words. It’s almost as if he expected them.
“Stay,” I repeat. “Please.”
I hear him swallow all the way across the room. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
I don’t have to ask him again, and when he disappears into the living room—probably to grab his phone and pillow—I know he’s coming back.
And he does. He pushes the door closed with a quiet snick of the latch, then settles into the bed beside me like we’ve done this a hundred times before. I roll over to face him.
He smiles. “Thanks.”