Chapter 8 Gabriel #2
I laugh. “You’re right. Look, Alessia, I’m not the enemy here.
I’m not a cheater. I’m not in a relationship, and I wasn’t when you kissed me.
I’m not really sure why you’re upset and avoiding making eye contact with me.
In fact, I can’t understand why we can’t just have a dinner together then go our separate ways.
This will be a funny story to tell Natasha later. ”
She blows out a breath, her long bangs shifting slightly with the force of it, revealing the high cheekbones that frame her face. She looks irritated and embarrassed all at once and for a moment I feel bad that I’m the source of that irritation.
“You’re right. I’m sorry for how I’m acting. I think…” She pauses, pressing her lips together before continuing, “I’m embarrassed that I mistook you for someone else and I think I’m having a hard time reconciling that you’re not Roman—the guy I thought was cheating on Kacey.”
Whoa, wasn’t expecting that apology, but I hold in my natural response because she already told me once not to gloat and frankly, I’m not the gloating type. I’m not trying to have a miserable dinner with her.
“I have… a problem with most men. I jumped to a conclusion and should have verified. You did say your name was Carpenter, though, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Nickname. There’s a lot of Carpenter’s hanging around and when I was younger, my parents called me Penny.
Plus, you were a stranger. A strange and very beautiful one who was crashing my party.
I needed you to understand that the company party was my company’s party.
Most people think the business is Roman’s since he’s the guy with all the money, but I’m the CEO and COO. ”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, if you’d just said that your name was Gabriel, that could have all been avoided.”
“Ah, but then I would have missed out on being assaulted by you.”
Her cheeks flush and I laugh. “I’m kidding.”
“I’m… I’m really sorry about that. I’m mortified.”
“How about we restart, yeah?” I suggest.
She nods slowly, way too cautious. I sit back in my chair. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
Jesus, this woman.
I chuckle. “I want to learn more about you. A woman working as a PI in New York City seems like a pretty dangerous gig.”
That must hit a nerve I didn’t realize she has because her suspicion turns into a scowl.
“Okay we don’t have to talk about that then... Tell me something different about you. Natasha said you were divorced.”
She nods. “I am.”
I point to my chest. “Me too.”
“I know.”
“Ah. Didn’t realize Natasha told you that too.”
Is she going to make conversation this damn difficult all night?
Because if so, maybe this was all a gigantic mistake.
I should just pack up my food and eat it at home alone.
I’d prefer sitting in the silence more to whatever this two word answer mess is.
I don’t have the time or the energy for it.
Not to date someone who keeps their walls up.
And definitely not to spend weeks trying to coax a closed-off woman into opening up to me when there’s no real reason to.
Not when we both know this isn’t going anywhere.
She exhales sharply, like she’s wrestling with her words. “Look… I’m a little jaded when it comes to men. When I first started private investigation work in college, I’d take on any case. Then I got divorced, and now I only follow men who are suspected of cheating on their girlfriends and wives.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “I see.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what happened between me and my ex-husband?”
I shrug. “If you want to tell me.”
Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to figure me out, but she won’t.
I’m a man with two younger sisters, one of which I raised since she was ten years old.
I know that sometimes you gotta let women sit in their silence until they come to you with the details.
Forcing it out of them will only cause them to collapse inward on their selves.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips nervously. My eyes drop to them immediately—like they do every time she does that—because I want to kiss her again. Defensive or not, I want to see if kissing her might crack those carefully built walls she’s erected around herself.
“We were trying to get pregnant for all five years of our marriage, and it never happened,” she says flatly. “Then I found out he was cheating on me. And guess what? His mistress was pregnant.”
“Damn.”
Her brows shoot up. “Aren’t you going to tell me you’re so sorry? That’s what people always say when I tell them what happened.”
I lean back, keeping my tone neutral. “I’m not sure if I am sorry. Sounds like you’re better off without him. Dodged a fucking bullet.”
She stares at me, her big, round, brown eyes—eyes that remind me of the lake behind my house in the autumn. Full of leaves that cover the surface and dot the bottom—studying me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m for real. I’m being honest and anything she wants to know, I’ll tell her the truth.
“Maybe I did, but it hurt like hell to find that out.”
“I bet it did,” I say, agreeing with her.
“So now I’m all jaded and fucked up over men.”
“Makes sense.”
“I only follow men when I do private investigation work because I enjoy hearing that women leave them after I catch them.”
“Checks out,” I nod.
Her eyes narrow again, challenging me like she can’t believe I’m agreeing with the words she’s saying and not trying to defend the males who’ve fucked her over. “Well, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?” I ask.
“You know, jaded and fucked up over women since your divorce?”
I smile faintly. “I think you’re projecting, sweetheart.”
Her eyes flash, her lips parting slightly at the word sweetheart. Same reaction she had in that bar hallway when I used it. She likes it. And now that I know that I’ll be using it more often.
“Well,” she says, after a beat and a rough clearing of her throat, “if you’re not all jaded and fucked up then I’m going to ask the question. What happened with you and your ex?”
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.
“My parents died in a car accident when I was twenty-two years old. I’d hardly graduated college, barely started my career, and had just gotten married to my college girlfriend.
Admittedly, probably way too young. Then, boom—everything changed overnight.
I became my ten-year-old sister’s guardian.
My other sister was twenty and still in college, not working yet, so I moved back into our childhood home to keep things as normal as possible for them and help keep the family business and finances afloat.
I thought my new wife was on board with these changes, but it turns out, she wasn’t.
She hated that I took on the responsibility of raising my sisters.
She barely gave me a chance to adjust to the new normal and find a way where it’d work for everyone before she decided she wanted me to drop them both, ditch my sisters, give up custody, and move across the country with her.
So, less than a year into our marriage, she filed for divorce.
I guess I wasn’t what she signed up for. ”
Her lips part in surprise. “Wow… that’s… that’s pretty fucked up.”
I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “I get that it wasn’t the life she envisioned for herself either. No one could predict my parents passing at the same time and me becoming a parent to my little sister before I was ready. We had different priorities. It’s all good.”
“How long has it been since you divorced?”
“Eleven years this year.”
She hesitates, her voice soft. “Well, I’m sorry for the loss of your parents.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes study me closely like she’s trying to peel back another layer to who I am. “Were you ever jaded about it all? Towards women, I mean.”
The server arrives with our plates, giving me a moment to think.
I thank her as she sets the food down, then scoop up a bite of the casserole.
It’s rich, buttery, and packed with flavor.
Not what I was planning on ordering when I got here tonight, but it’ll do the trick to take the ache off my stomach before I have to get home and prepare for tomorrow.
There are some blueprints for the lobby bathroom that need reviewed and approved before the morning, and one of my employees needs to take his daughter to the doctor tomorrow which means I’ll be down a man with our timeline constantly being pushed back.
I chew thoughtfully before answering.
“No. I’ve been surrounded by women my entire life. I’m not going to blame the entire gender just because Amber turned out to be someone different than I thought she was when I married her. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”
She presses her lips together, nodding slowly. “Maybe.”
I can tell I’ve struck a chord, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.
Alessia’s carrying a lot of anger toward men, and maybe she has her reasons.
But I want to make one thing clear—I’m not the guy she thinks I am, and I’m not the guy who’s going to tell her all men aren’t shit.
A lot are. I’ve never blamed Amber, and I’m not about to start hating women because of one failed relationship.
“Have you dated other women since your divorce?” she asks, tilting her head. “Have other women let you down since?”
“Haven’t had the time for relationships.”
She nods, more curious now. “That’s what Natasha said. But, like… not at all?”
“Not at all.”
“But sex?”
I meet her gaze, unflinching. “Yes, I’ve had sex since my ex-wife. But it’s been a while if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to her plate.
There’s a beat of silence before she shifts gears and I can see the flush that’s covering her chest. “Well, since I feel like you’re judging me for writing off all men because of my ex, I should tell you, it’s not just him who’s let me down.
I’m the third generation of women in my family who’ve been screwed over by men.
My grandma was a single mom to my mom and her sister, my aunt was a single mom to my cousins, and my mom was a single mom to me.
All of us were cheated on and left by the men we trusted most.”
“I see.” I nod slowly, her words settling in. “Sounds like you’ve got every reason to feel that way. I understand why your apprehensive towards men. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
I see why she’s carrying this weight. It’s generational, years of hurt passed down beginning with her grandmother and culminating with a deep betrayal from her ex-husband. And from the sound of it, there hasn’t been a single man in her life who’s stepped up to prove her wrong.
I’m not looking for another project, got enough of those between all my businesses and side work restoring homes in Brookhaven, but something about Alessia begs me to not be lumped into that category of men who disappoint her, even if I don’t want to be the one to put in the work to change her mind.
Her eyes narrow, suspicion flickering there. “Are you just going to agree with everything I say tonight?”
I shrug. “If you’re making sense, I’m going to agree. I wouldn’t lie to you. That a problem, sweetheart?”
She narrows her eyes further, crossing her arms. “No, it’s just… weird.” She rolls her lips between her teeth. “Unexpected, I guess.”
I lean back, smirking. “You’ve made plenty of fair points.”
“I… I mean, I have, yes, but I figured you’d try to defend your comrades or something. That’s what most guys do. They try to say, we’re not all alike. Not all men! Or that it’s unfair to generalize when the pattern is clearly men.”
“I know a lot of men that are just like the way you’ve described and experienced. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong about that. And it’s true—there are plenty of men who lie and cheat. Why would I waste my energy defending the ones who’ve hurt you? Fuck them.”
She presses her lips together again and shakes her head. I lean forward, meeting her gaze directly.
“Just take it for what it is, Alessia. You don’t have to over analyze or overthink everything. Remember, I’m not the enemy here. Just a guy, enjoying some seafood casserole with a beautiful woman. This was supposed to be a blind date. We can enjoy our conversation without being combative, right?”
She hesitates again before nodding. “Yeah. We can.”