5. Chapter Five
~Gabriel~
Hiding in my room didn’t work.
After leaving Jen at reception, I went upstairs and turned on the TV to pass the time, hoping if I waited long enough, I wouldn’t run into her again that evening. The desire I felt to spend time with her, to find out what she thought of the hotel and what she planned to do that weekend, along with a dozen other harmless, innocent questions, wouldn’t have worried me if it weren’t quite so strong. Removing the source of the temptation seemed like the best course of action; if I didn’t see her, I couldn’t give into it.
But after waiting an hour, I headed back downstairs to find her at the reception desk, and I had to accept my fate. For whatever reason, the universe seemed to be pushing us together, and I reminded myself that I had more self-control than my earlier actions suggested. We could have a nice, friendly dinner without it meaning anything more than that.
Laughter and chatter filled the warm, cozy dining room as the receptionist showed the two of us to the table that had been reserved for me. Nestled in a small alcove, it gave the illusion of some privacy while looking out over the rolling hills that surrounded the small hotel.
It would be rather romantic, if the situation were a little different.
“Thank you, Tara,” Jen said before the woman hurried off to take care of her next task, and though it was a little thing, I couldn’t help thinking that Celine never bothered to learn the names of the staff when we went out anywhere .
Those kinds of comparisons wouldn’t help my state of mind, so I cleared my throat as I pulled the chilled wine that had been left on the table from its bucket. “The owner is treating me tonight. Want to help me take advantage of it?”
Jen smiled as she held out her glass. “I never say no to free wine.”
After I poured some for both of us, we both took a sip. The fruity white, crisp and refreshing, seemed to help us both relax. Jen’s tongue darted out to swipe a stray drop from her bottom lip as she set her glass down, and I couldn’t tell if she’d done it on purpose or not, but I found it sexy either way.
Focus, Gabriel.
“How was your drive?” I asked to steer us back into friendly, neutral territory.
Her shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. “Fine. You?”
“Fine.” That didn’t work to stimulate conversation, so I tried the weather next. “The forecast looks good for the weekend.”
“It does,” she agreed, a smile starting to form on her lips. “If you ask me what I’m planning to do for the weekend, I might head into town tonight and eat alone after all.”
That had, in fact, been the next question on the tip of my tongue. “What’s wrong with asking that?”
“You’re acting like we don’t know each other at all.”
“We barely do,” I pointed out. “All you know about me is that I’m a travel agent going through some personal issues, and all I know about you is…”
The words died in my throat, nothing that wanted to come out being close to appropriate. You’re beautiful and you wanted to sleep with me.
“Is what?” Jen prompted, leaning forward onto the table to hear me better over the chatter of the other diners. The movement pushed her breasts together, accentuating her already significant cleavage.
Desperately, I scrambled for something, anything, to say. “You like to travel and you’re a good listener. ”
I pulled the wine glass back to my lips, filling my mouth so I wouldn’t have to speak again.
Jen shrugged again, her body still leaned towards me. “Friendships have been founded on less. But if we want to know each other better, this is the perfect opportunity. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”
“Like what?”
“Like… what’s the first trip you remember going on as a kid?”
The tension in my muscles relaxed, tension I hadn’t even fully noticed until it disappeared. That question, I could answer. “My family travelled quite a lot. My mother came from Greece, and her parents, my grandparents, still lived there when I was young. I remember going to visit them.”
“What do you remember about it?” Her eyes never left me, as if she’d never heard anything more fascinating than the words coming out of my mouth, just the same as when we were on the video call together.
A smile tugged at my lips as I let my mind wander back to those early memories. “I remember the blue of the sea. It’s different from the California ocean, clear and calm. The land felt dusty and old, the houses all faded from decades or even centuries in the sun. My grandmother would let me stick my finger in the honey while she baked, and I remember its warm sweetness, the taste lingering on my tongue for hours.”
“That sounds idyllic.” The words, along with her warm smile, encouraged me to keep going.
“I enjoyed it, but more than that, it showed me how life can be different somewhere else but just as real. We’re all just people living our lives, no matter where those lives take place. The neighbourhood kids I played with there were just like my friends at home, even though they spoke a different language. I think those early trips gave me an ease with travelling that a lot of people don’t have so young.”
“I can understand that. Do you think…”
Whatever she wanted to ask got cut off as Tara returned to our table to take our orders. By the time she moved on, I decided to turn the tables and get her answer to the same question. “What about you? What’s your first travel memory?”
The light faded from her eyes just a bit, enough that it felt like someone had turned down the temperature, the warmth that had filled my body cooling just a touch.
“I didn’t travel as a child. In fact, the farthest we ever went as kids was to Disneyland.”
My eyebrows drew together. “Do you mean in Florida?”
She would know the difference between Disneyland and Disney World, I felt certain, and she quickly confirmed she did.
“No, I mean the one thirty miles from where we lived. My parents owned a store and their lives revolved around it. They pretty much never took a day off, at least not at the same time. Holidays weren’t something we did growing up. But in university, I met Matt.”
The sweet smile that flashed across her face made me smile too, unable to stop myself even if I’d wanted to.
“He wanted to see the world, and he wanted me to see it with him. We made a good start.”
“What happened to him?” I probably shouldn’t have asked so bluntly, but the mix of pain and happiness in her eyes captivated me. I needed to know. She loved the guy; I would have sworn to it.
Jen’s lips tightened, and I thought for a moment that she would refuse to answer. She would be well within her rights to do so. Like I said, we hardly knew each other.
But something seemed to change her mind, and inhaling deeply, she pushed the words out.
“He died on his 25th birthday, on his way to the party I threw for him.”
“Fuck.” From her profile and the conversations we’d had to that point, I never would have guessed at something that painful in her past. We all had pieces of ourselves we kept hidden, regrets and roads not taken, but hers felt particularly heavy. “I’m sorry. ”
She flashed another smile my way, tight and pained. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we think it will.”
No, it certainly didn’t. I could relate to that, and as if she could read my thoughts, Jen turned the conversation back to me once again.
“On that note, did you speak to your wife the other night? What did you find out?”
~Jennifer~
Talking about Matt didn’t come easily to me. Normally, I didn’t talk about him at all, especially not with anyone I flirted with for work. His part of my life belonged to me alone, and I guarded the memories jealously. Possessively. Talking about them seemed to dilute them somehow, so I never did, not even with Eda who’d known and loved him.
And yet, something made me speak the words to Gabe. Maybe I wanted to open up to him so that he’d open up to me in return. Maybe something in his nature assured me he would respond in a sensitive way, treating the revelation with the gravitas it deserved.
Whatever the reason, I said the words out loud, but before he could ask any follow-up questions, I seized the opportunity and brought the conversation to the topic I’d been dying to ask him about ever since we sat down.
The issue of Celine’s potential infidelity had been hanging above us like a cloud, there but not acknowledged, and although I didn’t know how Gabe would react, I had to bring it up .
His shoulders tensed, his grip around his wine glass tightening. “We talked but I didn’t learn much. All I really know for sure is that she’s angry with me for being suspicious.”
My jaw clenched on his behalf. A classic narcissist move: make the person with valid concerns feel like they’re the ones acting strangely, so the narcissist can play the victim. I’d seen it so many times coming from the men I tested once their partners confronted them with the evidence I provided, and from what Eda helped me piece together about Celine, it made perfect sense that she would behave that way too.
And Gabe, the genuinely nice man that he was, actually felt bad about it. I could see it in the downturn of his lips and the way his eyes dropped to the table as he said the words.
Maybe I could have held back what I wanted to say if he left it there, but his next words were too much for me to bear.
“Maybe I’m deflecting my guilt over chatting with you onto her, and seeing something that’s not really there.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” I blurted out, the words coming out stronger than intended. “ I came onto you , and you did nothing to encourage it. Don’t let her gaslight you into thinking this is your fault in any way.”
Gabe’s eyes snapped back up to mine, looking startled by the sharp edge to my tone. “What do you mean?”
Swallowing my indignation, I tried to answer more calmly. “If she’s cheating and doesn’t want you to know, she might try to spin things around and put the blame on you. But surely, as her husband, you have the right to ask about her change in behaviour. If anyone’s deflecting, it’s her. That’s what I’ve seen in other situations, anyway.”
Gabe’s head cocked to the side. “Are you a psychologist or something?”
“In a way.” My work did involve delving deep into the male psyche, so technically, I didn’t lie. “I work with people going through problems in their relationships, and I see a lot of this kind of thing. I can’t say for sure that’s what Celine is doing, but it feels that way to me from the outside looking in.”
Slowly, Gabe nodded, rolling the idea around in his head. “She does have a way of twisting things to her advantage,” he admitted. “Nothing is ever her fault. It’s actually kind of impressive if you don’t…”
He trailed off there, his eyes dropping again as his brow furrowed, and I leaned forward even further, trying to see his face. “If you don’t what?”
Although he didn’t answer my question, he did look back up at me, his eyes cooler than before. “How do you know her name?”
“What?” My heart began to thump heavily as I realized my mistake, but I asked him to clarify his question anyway to try to buy myself some time to come up with an excuse.
He confirmed that the question meant exactly what I feared it did. “I never told you my wife’s name. How do you know it?”
I couldn’t think of a single good reason I would know it other than the truth, except maybe that I’d been stalking him, neither of which would go over very well. More than that, I wasn’t ready to come clean just yet, especially not when we were getting to the heart of the matter.
Wincing internally, I lied. “You did tell me, the other night when we were talking about her. I remember thinking what a pretty name it is.”
His eyebrows knitted even closer together. “I don’t remember saying it.”
I shrugged as casually as I could. “Sometimes, things just slip out. You were pretty distracted.”
The wariness in his gaze lasted another few seconds before it melted away, his shoulders slumping again. “I guess so. Sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, I just… I feel like I’m going crazy. Things are shifting so fast and I have no idea why.”
Guilt surged through me as he accepted my version of events rather than what he knew to be the truth. I’d just done exactly what I’d accused Celine of, and he could be too nice for his own good. No wonder Celine thought she could get away with setting him up .
Not wanting to keep the deception up any longer than I had to, I got straight to the point. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that she’s cheating. Is there any reason she wouldn’t just leave you to be with the other guy? What’s keeping her with you and lying to you?”
As Gabe leaned back, thinking it over, I held my breath, hoping he’d reach the same conclusion Monica already had, and fast. I would rather he figured it out on his own instead of me having to tell him, and once he did, we could move on to proving the theory.
After that, I’d find a way to tell him the whole truth, and hope that we could still be friends afterwards.
~Gabriel~
If I let myself think about it too long, the fact that I was sitting in a rather romantic restaurant in a beautiful hotel, talking about the potential of my wife cheating on me with the woman who had approached me out of the blue to hit on me, I probably would have reached the conclusion that I’d lost my mind.
So, I didn’t think about it. Instead, I tried to focus on what Jennifer asked me: if Celine was cheating, why would she be trying to convince me otherwise?
“It really doesn’t fit in with Celine’s personality,” I answered, saying the words out loud to try to help me sort through all the conflicting ideas in my head. “Usually, she’s pretty upfront about what she wants. She even told me when and where to propose to her.”
Jen’s eyebrows shot up as she took a sip of her wine. “Were you planning to propose? ”
“Yes?” The word came out as a question, and I winced. “I mean, I’d been thinking about it. I had the ring, but things didn’t seem quite right at the time. She seemed distracted, like she had somewhere more interesting to be than with me. A lot like now, actually.”
I hadn’t really made that connection before, but there had been one other time when I wondered if Celine might be seeing someone else, back when we were dating. She’d been secretive and distant, and for a couple of weeks, I thought we might break up. Honestly, I even thought it might be for the best. But suddenly, things shifted, and she suggested we go on a trip together, something she knew I’d jump on. We went to Paris, which she said would be a perfect place to propose. I did, she said yes, and things were better after that.
Things were good.
Until a few months ago.
“Let’s back up a little further,” Jen suggested. “How did you two meet?”
It had been a while since I told anyone that story, and a smile crossed my face at the thought of it. “Well, before I became a travel agent, I worked as a flight attendant.”
“Really?” Jen’s eyes filled with curiosity again. “That must have been interesting.”
“That’s one word for it. I loved the travel, but the customer service part had its ups and downs.”
Jen nodded sympathetically. “I bet. Long flights don’t always bring out the best in people. Was Celine one of your passengers?”
“That’s right. We were on a flight from New York to San Francisco and she had a panic attack mid-flight. My colleagues were able to cover for me while I sat with her to help her calm down. She told me she also lived in the city and we exchanged numbers. Things grew from there.” The memories of those early days of our relationship and the uncertainty of what it might turn into sent a nostalgic warmth through my body. “When it started to get more serious, my work schedule became an issue, so I found a job with a travel agency instead. I still got to travel, but not every week.”
Our food arrived, and we took a break from the conversation to dig in, both of us exclaiming over how good everything looked and tasted. As we settled into the meal, Jennifer resumed her gentle questioning.
“What does Celine do for work?”
The question, though completely innocent, made me wince again because I knew how it sounded. “She worked as a receptionist when I met her, but after we got married, she decided to become a homemaker. Totally her choice, I’m not one to conform to gender-prescribed roles or anything like that.”
Jen laughed at my disavowal. “I believe you. I don’t think you’re holding her captive inside the house.”
“Hardly.”
As her smile faded, she leaned in again. “If this is too nosy, tell me to butt out, but are you guys financially secure enough that she doesn’t need to work? San Francisco is an expensive place to live, and I don’t know how much travel agents make.”
It was a pretty nosy question, but everything about her seemed sincere, like she really just wanted to help, so I answered her honestly. “We’re surviving, but we’re not rich by any means.”
“So, she’s not staying with you for your bank account?” she teased.
I smiled back, taking the joke in good humour. “I doubt it.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, however, another thought crossed my mind, something I hadn’t thought about for a while. Although we were just making ends meet for the time being, we were due to get the inheritance from my grandparents within the next year. I’d been planning to use it to help support our family, when we had one, and set aside some savings. Celine had talked about getting a new house and a new car.
Would that be enough to make her stay even if she’d fallen out of love with me? I couldn’t be certain, but the doubt settled heavily into my chest, a weight bearing down on my heart that made it a little harder to breathe .
“What’s wrong?” Jen asked, picking up on the change in me even though I hadn’t said a word.
I gave her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice its tightness. “I’m just ready to talk about something else, if you don’t mind.”
As helpful as she’d been, I didn’t feel entirely comfortable telling her about the inheritance. Maybe because she would read something into it that I couldn’t be sure about. Maybe because people always got a little bit funny at the mention of that much money.
At the end of the day, she remained a stranger, and the situation between me and Celine was about as personal as something could get.
“Why don’t you tell me about your job?” I suggested as a new subject of conversation. “You know what I do, but I don’t have a clue about your work other than that you deal with relationships in trouble.”
Jen nodded as she leaned back in her seat, putting her fork down and picking up her wine glass. “That’s pretty much it. I offer support to people, usually women, who think they’re being cheated on.”
That seemed awfully ironic, considering the way she’d approached me, and she gave me a sheepish shrug before I could point it out.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. But through my work, I’ve learned that people have all sorts of arrangements, and that some people’s definition of monogamy is a lot more fluid than other people. I don’t judge. It’s just when those ideas between the people in a relationship don’t line up that there’s going to be trouble.”
I supposed I could understand that, and I appreciated that once I made it completely clear that I wouldn’t be cheating, she backed off. That night, she didn’t seem to be hitting on me at all, and talking to her felt far more comfortable than I would have imagined it could. “What kind of support do you offer these people?”
“All kinds,” she replied vaguely. “But mostly, I help them get proof of the infidelity, and I could do the same for you, Gabe. If you want me to.”
My heart rate immediately notched up, adrenaline pumping through my body. Was I ready to truly admit to myself that Celine might be cheating? Did I want to face the proof of it ?
It wouldn’t be easy, but living in willful ignorance didn’t sound a lot better. Even though I might regret it, I found myself nodding at the beautiful woman across the table. “As long as it’s discreet, that might not be a bad idea. One way or the other, I’d like to know. What exactly would we have to do?”