58. Lars
Gabriel sits next to me, with Neomi on my other side.
He’s relaxed, with one arm resting against the back of the empty chair beside him, a glass of whiskey in front of him while the waiter pours our wine.
Nothing about him feels stiff or rehearsed.
He watches the room the way a man does when he has spent time in a lot of unfamiliar places.
Most people would miss it, but I don’t.
Neomi reaches for her glass beside me, the blue silk of her dress catching the candlelight between us. I can only guess that she chose it deliberately, and judging by the flicker of Gabriel’s attention when we first arrived, he noticed too.
Gabriel focuses on me. “You picked a good place.”
“It’s a favorite of mine. Quiet enough for conversation and the chef is talented.”
Neomi leans toward the table, studying him with open curiosity.
“Do you spend a lot of time eating in places like this?” she asks.
Gabriel’s mouth curves as he nods. “I’m not much of a cook, so yeah, I eat in restaurants most evenings.”
“What line of work are you in?” she asks.
He lifts his glass, considering the question as he takes a slow sip. “I work in the markets.”
I watch him. “Trading?”
“Yes,” he says simply. The answer is casual enough that most people would accept it without thinking twice. It is also vague enough that it could mean almost anything.
Neomi tilts her head thoughtfully. “So, you sit in front of a computer all day and make millions?”
Gabriel laughs quietly. “I wish it worked that way.”
“It doesn’t?” Her head tilts.
“Oh, it does sometimes,” he admits. “The trick is surviving the days when it doesn’t.”
That answer feels more honest.
“What kind of trading?” I ask.
He doesn’t hesitate. “Short-term positions mostly. Volatility can be very profitable if you’re paying attention.”
“How long have you lived in Chicago?” Neomi asks.
“A couple of months,” he answers. “I tend to move around a lot. Either from boredom or to be near clients.”
That answer catches her interest.
“I know that feeling.”
He glances at her. “You travel?”
“Quite a bit—or I used to,” she says. “I’ve made my living playing poker for the past few years. I went where the games were.”
Gabriel’s brows lift with genuine curiosity. “Professionally?”
She nods. “Made a substantial living doing it.”
“What kind of games?” he asks.
“Cash mostly. Some tournaments when the buy-ins were interesting enough. Mostly hold ‘em, sometimes Omaha or seven card stud.”
Gabriel leans in, studying her now in a way that feels less like polite conversation and more like recognition.
“That lifestyle gets old eventually.”
“It does,” she agrees.
“You live out of suitcases long enough and every hotel starts to look the same.”
“Exactly.” She turns to me and smiles. “I guess I didn’t realize how lonely it was until I found Lars and for the first time in years, I wanted to…stay somewhere, stay with someone.”
Her words sink into me. She wants to stay, she wants me. Words I never thought I would hear from someone again. I tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her temple.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
Seeing the way her and Gabriel share the quiet understanding of people who have spent long stretches of their lives without roots. It makes me appreciate my family and my home.
I watch the exchange carefully.
The connection forming between them feels natural. It's the kind that happens when two people recognize something familiar in each other.
“Did you like it?” Gabriel asks her.
“Playing poker?”
He nods. Neomi considers the question while swirling the wine in her glass.
“I liked winning,” she says finally.
Gabriel laughs. “That’s usually the best part.”
The waiter arrives with our food, giving the conversation a natural pause while plates are set in front of us. For a few minutes we focus on eating. Then Gabriel looks toward me.
“And what about you, Lars?”
“What would you like to know?”
“What do you do for work?”
I take a slow sip of wine before answering. “My family owns several businesses.”
Gabriel nods. “What kind of businesses?”
“Logistics. We own carrier services and work in some third-party sales.”
All technically true.
The conversation continues after that. We share a second bottle of wine.
Stories slip easily between the three of us.
Gabriel talks about living briefly in Milan when a trading opportunity kept him there for six months.
Neomi counters with a story about losing three hundred thousand dollars in Monaco before winning it back the same night.
At some point I notice that I’m no longer studying Gabriel the way I was earlier. The suspicion hasn’t disappeared entirely—it never does with someone new. But the longer the night continues, the easier it is to speak with him and to relax.
He listens when Neomi talks. And when he looks at me, there’s a quiet confidence in his gaze that I find myself respecting.
After our dinner plates are cleared, we order dessert and trade our wine for coffee.
Creme brulee and a flourless chocolate cake are placed in the middle of the table and we share them.
Gabriel takes one bite of each before setting his spoon down.
It’s then that I feel his hand on my thigh under the table.
The contact sends electricity through every cell of my body, and I know I can’t deny the attraction between the three of us.
His thumb makes lazy circles as he listens intently to Neomi talk about her high school years.
I should be listening, but all I can focus on is his touch.
He does it so freely and easily—no shame in our public setting. It’s bold and sexy as hell.
I’ve never been one to shy away from showing affection, regardless of gender. I know I have the privilege of my last name to thank for the comfort I can do it with.
Conversation and laughter continue after I pay the bill and by the time we step out onto the sidewalk an hour later, the air between the three of us has changed.
The valet disappears to retrieve the cars. For a moment we stand together beneath the awning while the city moves around us. Gabriel turns toward Neomi first.
“I’m really glad we did this.”
She smiles, eyes bright. “So am I.”
He leans down and kisses her softly. When he straightens, his attention shifts toward me.
Something in the way he looks at me makes my heart pound against my ribs. Then he steps closer. His hand slides behind my neck as he pulls me into a kiss.
Heat sparks instantly, sharp and unexpected. His mouth moves against mine with confidence, and I feel myself leaning into it before the thought fully registers.
When we finally separate, I’m breathless.
The valet pulls a car to the curb. Gabriel glances toward it before placing one last kiss to Neomi’s lips.
“Goodnight, Neomi.”
She smiles. “Drive safe.”
“I really hope I can see you both again. Lars, call me.”
He rounds the hood of his Mercedes and pauses once with a small wave. Then he gets in and the car disappears into traffic a moment later.
Neomi and I watch the taillights fade down the street.
Then she exhales softly beside me. “Well.”
I glance down at her. “Well, what?”
Her eyes remain fixed on the empty road.
“I want more.”
The honesty in her voice settles deep in my chest.
“So do I.”