Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
CHARLOTTE
Icouldn’t do this.
Here it was Friday night after work, and I was panicking.
I’d packed and unpacked my overnight bag twice, and now I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen, my heart thudding.
The idea of him in his kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, a bottle of wine open, and looking at me with a smile.
God, it was tempting. Tempting in a way that made me want to believe him when he said after the next two weeks, whatever decision was made, we could weather it. I hoped it was true.
And that was exactly the problem. Hope had the potential to wound.
Especially when I could feel myself, against all better judgment, falling for the man.
A date tonight, Austin’s game tomorrow—suddenly everything felt too much, too fast.
So I forced my fingers to move and typed the lamest excuse I could muster:
I have some things to finish up for work tonight and won’t be able to make dinner. Sorry.
The typing bubble popped up instantly. I braced myself for pushback, for him to call me out on being a chicken. But then the bubble disappeared. Nothing came through.
Silence.
Relief should’ve followed. Instead, disappointment curled tight in my chest. God help me, I couldn’t have it both ways. I couldn’t want him and shove him away at the same time.
The phone buzzed again, lighting up the darkened room with a one-line response.
I’ll come to you.
I told myself I was irritated by his refusal to take a hint, but the truth was in the relief I felt about seeing him again tonight.
Twenty minutes later, I was still at my laptop, pointlessly typing out email replies to keep my hands busy, when a knock rattled my front door. I stood and smoothed down my knit sweater and leggings, my comfortable outfit of choice for the evening.
I pulled open the door and froze.
Gabriel stood on my porch, not in one of his made-to-measure suits but in worn jeans and a soft black T-shirt clinging in all the right ways. He balanced an open cardboard box with one arm with foil-covered dishes inside. The scent of tomato and garlic wrapped around me instantly.
“Food delivery.” He held up the box with a crooked grin.
My throat went dry. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Maybe not.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, moving through my house with easy confidence. He set the box on the kitchen counter as if he belonged there. “Baked ziti and garlic bread. You and Austin can help yourselves whenever.”
I crossed my arms, a flimsy attempt at keeping up a defense. “You’re not annoyed with me cancelling?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Annoyed that you panicked and backed out because the idea of an actual date and letting me in on a deeper level scared you?” His eyes caught mine, sharp and knowing. “Not even a little.”
My cheeks warmed. How could he read me so easily?
He closed the distance between us before I could retreat, leaning down just enough that his breath ghosted across the curve of my neck.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he murmured, the low rumble of his voice sinking right through me, “patience has never been my strong suit.”
His fingers brushed my chin, and he tilted my face up until his gaze locked mine in place. “But for you, I’ll learn to go at your pace. Because you’re worth it.”
My stomach dipped. The part of me that was all soft edges ached at the sincerity in his tone. The other part of me remembered exactly what it had cost the last time I’d mixed love and career screamed at me to build the walls back up.
“Gabe…” My voice cracked, betraying me.
He didn’t give me a chance to retreat, instead going in for the kill in the form of the hottest kiss to date.
“Any chance of Austin coming home?” Pulling my sweater over my head, he captured my lips once more.
“No. He’s at his friend’s house tonight.” The only time he arrived unexpectedly was when he would otherwise have been with my ex.
My phone chirped with an invasive sound. “I should get that.”
“Fine, but make it quick,” he gritted out, lifting me up onto the counter and leaving his hands on my hips.
I picked up my cell from the place I’d set it near the baked ziti. The screen displayed a number I didn’t know. But the look on Gabe’s face let me know he’d seen the screen, and recognized the number. “That’s Samantha.”
“Huh. Maybe she has a follow-up question from the interview?”
He pulled back, concern etching his expression. “Maybe.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, Charlotte. It’s Samantha. I hope it’s okay I’m calling you.”
“Of course it’s always fine to call me. How are you?”
Gabriel’s shoulders eased, and he smiled, stepping away and taking the delicious-smelling food out of the box and laying it on the counter.
“Um, I’m okay, but I was hoping maybe you could help me.”
“Sure, what’s going on? Is it the article?”
“No.”
She hesitated, making worry niggle at the base of my skull. Aware her father was standing beside me, I tried to keep it light. “I’m happy to help. What’s going on?”
She let out an audible sigh. “I started my period.”
“Oh.” Not at all what I’d expected.
“My mom is out of town with her husband and the kids, and I know my grandma is on vacation with Grandpa, so I didn’t want to bother her, either. My stomach hurts, and I tried to use one of my mom’s tampons, but I messed it up, and that hurt too.”
Poor girl. Although it was tempting to go over there, I knew it wouldn’t go over well, given what I knew about her mother and her precarious relationship with Gabe. “How about your dad picks you up and brings you to his place and I meet you there with some stuff?”
“I don’t want him to know.”
Gabriel’s eyes were glued to me, questions abounding.
I had to give him credit, though. He looked like he wanted to grab the phone and demand answers, but he was exercising patience.
“He’s here with me, so he knows you called.
And I promise that although this might seem embarrassing, a grown, mature man, especially one who’s been married, knows all about this kind of stuff. ”
She sighed. “Okay. But tell him I don’t want to talk about it. It’s so embarrassing.”
“I’ll tell him, and we’ll see you soon.”
As soon as I disconnected, Gabe was asking questions. “Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“She’s fine. She started her period. And her mom is out of town tonight, so she needs some guidance. She’d like you to pick her up and take her to your place without any conversation about what’s going on, and I’ll run to the store and meet you there.”
His face flushed an angry red. “What kind of mom leaves her thirteen-year-old alone overnight when she could’ve called me? I would’ve dropped everything and gladly picked her up to spend the weekend at my place.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “God, Tanya must really hate me.”
It was a fair observation, but the timing wasn’t helpful.
I put my hand on his. “I can understand why you’re upset.
I would be, too, but you’ll need to let go of it all before you pick Samantha up.
This is a big deal to a teenager who’s feeling emotional about it, and she’s trusting the both of us to help her. Okay?”
He exhaled slowly, the action calming his features. “Yes. Okay. I’ll go pick her up. And I guess not talk about—it.”