Chapter 17 #2
“It was my strategy.” Anya straightened her posture. “I’m the one writing talking points for Jo every day, I’m the one across the language. It made more sense for me to do it myself than to brief one of them.”
“Oh my god.” Gabe gaped at her. “You wanted to do it.”
“What?” Anya felt uncomfortable. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No it isn’t. You’ve felt this way about Wheeler for years, and you were excited you finally had an excuse to say it.
Right?” Gabe looked at Anya expectantly, and she was hit with a wave of guilt.
He wasn’t entirely right, but he wasn’t entirely wrong either.
“Do you know what it was like at work today? These people already think it was a mistake to let me in the building, and now I’m making them work through Christmas because my bosses are afraid my girlfriend will raise more money than me? I felt pathetic.”
“I’m sorry,” Anya repeated. “That sounds miserable.”
“But it’s not your responsibility.”
“I didn’t say that!” Anya protested. “No, I don’t think I’m personally responsible for your bosses being assholes, but I knew that me being the one to do the podcast would have blowback for you, and I did it anyway, and that sucks, Gabe.
I know how much that sucks. But it was my job to say what I thought.
And I didn’t exaggerate, and I didn’t lie, and I tried to be as respectful as I could. ”
“While insinuating that Wheeler is for sale?”
“While insinuating…that he might be,” Anya admitted.
“Thanks for that.” Gabe clenched his jaw. “Really crucial distinction.”
They stood in silence for a few seconds, neither one of them moving.
He was wearing jeans and a button-down, like usual; she was still in her sweats from the plane.
She could see from across the room how tight his shoulders were.
Even as angry as he was, she wanted so badly to touch him, to make him feel better.
She wanted her sweet, affable boyfriend back. She just didn’t know how to find him.
“I’m gonna shower,” he said. “Did you eat?”
She shook her head. “I was pretty anxious.”
His face softened, just a little. “There are some pizzas in the freezer. Or take my phone if you want to order something.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll steal state secrets?” She gave him the smallest, most hopeful smile. He didn’t smile back.
“See you in a few minutes,” he said, then walked past her into his bedroom and shut the door.
Anya wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was going to be okay, wasn’t it? He’d let her come here (even if under mild duress), and they were talking.
It had taken so much for them to finally be together; there was no way she was going to let their relationship fall apart over some podcast.
She heard him turn on the water—her mind lurched back to the cabin on Orcas Island, the memory of him singing “Friends in Low Places,” so loud and happy and unbothered. Her stomach tightened. She had to make this right.
Gabe’s bedroom was dark and quiet. The shower running was the only sound as Anya walked in, and a slim bar of light spilled out where the bathroom door was cracked open. Anya squared her shoulders as she walked inside.
The bathroom was more modern than the rest of the place, with concrete floors, a slab sink, and a big open rain shower set into an alcove with a glass door.
Gabe didn’t notice Anya for a second—so for a second, she got to watch him stand in the hot spray of the shower, steam rising from his skin, head bent beneath the water.
She inhaled sharply; she was never going to get over how beautiful he was.
“Anya?” He looked up at her, his brow knitted in confusion, or possibly annoyance. “What is it?”
She walked over to the shower and stood across from him, only a few feet and a wall of glass between them.
“What?” he prompted.
She unzipped her hoodie and shrugged out of it, let it fall to the floor at her feet. Gabe’s eyes widened.
“Come on,” he said. “Not now.”
But he kept staring at her. Her throat felt dry. She swallowed.
“What if we leave all that out there?” she said. “And it’s just us in here?”
She untied her sweatpants and pushed them down over her hips, then stepped out of them. She was wearing only underwear and a white ribbed tank top now; she’d taken off her bra hours ago when she arrived. She took out her hair tie and let her curls spill over her shoulders.
“Anya.” Gabe’s voice was husky. She peeled off her tank top, and the glass in front of him started to fog with the heat of his breath. She didn’t break eye contact as she took off her underwear.
“Do you want me to go?” she asked. He shook his head.
So she opened the shower door and stepped inside, and then he was kissing her, and she loved him so much, and she was so sorry, and the water was hot and she wanted all of him, his hands, his lips, his skin. He loved to take things slow with her, but she couldn’t, not now—she needed him too much.
“There.” She pointed at the wide bench of concrete on one side of the shower. “Sit down.”
He did, and she climbed onto his lap, guiding him inside her.
“Oh god, Gabe.” Her voice was high and pinched.
She hadn’t been with him in almost two months, she’d missed this feeling so desperately—and from how hard he was gripping her, how hungrily he was staring, it was obvious he’d missed her just as much.
He pressed his hand against her lower belly, and it was so much pressure, his hand at her front and the water on her back, she knew it wouldn’t take long.
She buried her face against his neck and cried out as she rocked against him.
He lasted only a few more seconds after she finished, shouting as loudly as she’d ever heard him before his body shuddered and finally relaxed.
She pressed her chest against his, nuzzling as close to him as she could, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He ran his hands along her back, dragging his fingers across her skin. It made her think of Vieques, and how quickly he could disappear.
“Don’t leave me, okay?” She didn’t know if she was crying or if it was the water from the shower. “Please.”
“I won’t,” he whispered. “I promise.”