Chapter 66
CECILIA
It’s getting late when the sound of murmured voices from downstairs trickles into my room. Glancing at the clock, my brows furrow together, taking note of the time before I pad down the hallway.
Leaning over the banister, I peer downstairs, the dim light casting long shadows across the foyer below. Lately, it’s become a familiar routine, these late-night visits from Dad’s campaign manager, Mr. Ayala, or Officer Koch.
They seem to be the three recurring presences these past couple of weeks.
“Thank you,” Gabriel’s voice floats up the stairs, his tone tinged with a sense of urgency. “I promise, I’ll be quick.”
The familiar sound of his voice catches me off guard, my breath catching in my throat as I strain to hear whatever he says next.
My heart skips a beat, the mere sound of his presence sending a jolt of anticipation through me.
What is he doing here?
Seconds later, his steps are pounding up the stairs, the rhythm of his stride echoing in the quiet of the house. My pulse quickens, a flutter of nerves dancing in my chest as I stand frozen at the top of the stairs, dumbfounded by his unexpected appearance.
Gabriel clears the last step, his figure looming large in the dim light, his honey-brown eyes drinking me in like a man dying of thirst. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart as he moves closer.
His presence, so close, ignites a flurry of conflicting emotions inside of me—longing, uncertainty, and a flicker of desire.
But I push them aside, steeling myself against the pull he exerts on me. Play it cool. I remind myself.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask, my voice coming out more breathless than I intend it to. It’s only been a few weeks, but god, I’ve missed him.
"I wanted to talk," he says, his voice soft. "Can we go in your room?”
My mind races, searching for an excuse to avoid being alone with him, but I know that I can't keep avoiding him like this. Reluctantly, I nod, leading him to my room where we can speak without Mom and Dad listening in.
As we settle into the quiet space, the tension between us is palpable. I can feel his gaze on me, probing and searching, but I refuse to meet it, focusing instead on a spot on the floor.
"Why didn’t you just call or send me a text?" I finally ask, unable to contain the question any longer. “It’s late. Don’t you have practice early tomorrow?”
Gabriel shifts uncomfortably, his expression pained. “I wanted to talk to you in person,” he admits. “I know things are … complicated."
I offer him a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of his words. You can say that again.
"I just ... I miss you, Cecilia. More than I thought possible." The vulnerability in his voice cracks through my defenses, stirring something deep within me. But I can't let myself be swayed by his words, not when I've worked so hard to rebuild the walls around my heart.
"I miss you too," I admit, my voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn't change what happened."
Gabriel nods, his expression pained. “I know. Which is why I know I have no right asking this of you, it's just …” He hesitates.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I peer up at him through the veil of my lashes. “What is it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I was hoping I could ask a favor,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “If it’s too much, just say the word. I don’t have any expectations here. It’s just …” He trails off again, his eyes searching mine.
“What’s the favor?” I prompt, my curiosity piqued despite my reservations.
“Tomorrow is my Mom’s wedding.” Oh. I’d completely forgotten about that. “And I know you’re busy. You have a lot going on so the timing is absolute shit but, I was hoping you'd maybe hang out with me for the day.”
His words catch me off guard, but as I meet his gaze, I see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken plea for me to do this.
My answer is almost immediate. Despite the uncertainty between us, I could never deny him this.
Gabriel may have hurt me, but he's hurting too.
I won't abandon him when he needs me most. I still care about him.
“Of course,” I nod, offering him a small, tentative smile. “But aren’t you going to the wedding?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. It’s a bad idea no matter how I look at it. But just knowing what’s happening tomorrow,” he shrugs. “It’s hard. I don’t need to be there to know she’s moving on with her life and I really don’t want to spend my day stuck in my head about it.”
I get it, but I still think he should go. His mom getting married is no small thing.
“Any chance I can get you to reconsider?” I ask.
Pursing his lips, he considers me. “She doesn’t want me there.” I can hear the little boy in his voice, the one who’s been hurt by his mom, but who desperately craves her love and acceptance.
“She sent you an invitation,” I remind him. “I’d say that’s a pretty big indication that she does.”
Gabriel shakes his head, unconvinced. “Trust me, she doesn’t. Me going wouldn’t end well.”
“I’ll still be your date,” I tell him. “If you go.” Clearing my throat, I add, “I’ll spend the afternoon with you regardless, but I think we should go to the wedding. I’d like to meet the woman who helped make you.”
Gabriel’s expression goes slack. “You want to meet my mom?” he asks, his voice filled with disbelief.
“Why not?” I tell him. “You’ve met mine.”
His mouth twists into a grimace. “That’s different,” he mutters. “Yours loves you.”
My heart breaks at his words.
“She loves you,” I assure him. “Besides, I promised I’d go with you before and I’d like to keep that promise. We should go to the wedding. Trust me. This will be good for you. For your mom, too.”
“It will blow up in our faces.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “It won’t. Trust me. Please.”
“You don’t need to convince me out of some misguided obligation,” he says, and I can see he’s grasping at straws, searching for a way out of this. “You’re not responsible for fixing shit between me and my family.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, my tone gentle. “We’re friends, and this is what friends do, right? They’re there for one another. Let’s go to the wedding. Let me be there for you. I promise nothing bad is going to happen.”
Gabriel nods, his expression pained. “Friends. Right,” he says, his tone guarded all of a sudden.
I feel a pang in my chest, a flicker of sadness washing over me.
But I remind myself I can’t keep leading him on.
If we’re going to remain in each other’s lives—something I’d very much like for us to do—then we need to redefine our relationship.
That means being friends, and only friends.
Nothing less and nothing more. We can’t tread water in the gray area anymore.
“Alright,” he says. “We’ll go to the wedding.”
Really? Good.
Relief sweeps through me. I know he has his reservations, but this is going to be so good for him. If I’ve learned anything from my therapist these past couple of weeks, it’s that the deepest wounds require us to experience the most discomfort in order to heal from them.
Going to his mom’s wedding isn’t something Gabriel wants to do, but it’s something he has to do if he's ever going to put their issues behind him and move on.
“What time do I need to be ready?”
Drawing closer, Gabriel cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. I hold back the urge to melt against his chest, keeping my back stiff as his lips press against my forehead and he whispers against my skin.
“I’ll be here at four to pick you up,” he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down my spine. “Thank you for this.”
His touch lingers on my skin, searing me with an intensity I'm desperate to ignore. But as he pulls away, I force myself to meet his gaze, to keep my emotions in check despite the butterflies dancing inside my stomach.
“I’ll be ready,” I reply, my voice steady despite my nerves.
Gabriel offers me a small, grateful smile before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he descends the stairs. Left alone in the quiet of my room, I give myself a moment to exhale, to release the tension coiled tight inside my chest.
It’s just a wedding. I remind myself. What’s the worst that can happen?