Chapter 9 Emilia
Emilia
We spent far more time at the cenote than we planned, and now, after returning the four-wheelers, showering and changing, we’re sitting at the poolside bar, waiting for our friends to come back.
Only problem is, we head back home tomorrow, and I’m not quite ready for this adventure—this exploration—to be over.
Would Gabe consider moving this hook-up from the Caribbean to Boston? I frown at that thought, because the truth is, I want more than a vacation hook-up.
“Something on your mind?” he asks as I sip my fruity drink.
I shrug and toy with my straw.
“It’s still your ‘yes’ day,” he reminds me. “If you have something on your mind, you should tell me now.”
Just then the bartender puts two shot glasses in front of us. “What’s this for?” I ask, and pick one up to read the inscription. Truth Serum. I laugh at that.
The bartender grins. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Much,” he adds with a grin. “But you both look like you have something on your mind and I thought this could help.”
I set my glass down and he unscrews the cap from the bottle of tequila.
Gabe picks up the salt and holds it out. “I’m game if you are.”
“Okay.”
He takes my arm, licks it, and sprinkles salt on. Okay, was that supposed to turn me on? He does the same to his arm and hands me my glass. I clink it with his. We both swallow the contents in one gulp and as it burns down my throat it sucks the air from my lungs.
“Ohmigod, Gabe.” He hands me a lime.
“Suck this.”
We both suck on limes and a hard quiver goes through me. “One good thing about this,” I say as I grab a napkin and press it to my lips and squirm on my stool, “This will kill any germs we might have caught from the muddy water.”
Gabe laughs, picks up the bottle the bartender left on the bar and refills our glasses. “Before we drink, we ask a question and tell a truth.” He cocks his head. “You want to go first?”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes and glance at his crotch. “I lied, it’s impressive. Is that what this is all about? You getting me to admit that.”
He laughs hard and the bartender chuckles and saunters away. He salts us both up and hands me my drink. I slick the salt and swallow it fast. Goddamn. It still tastes like poison. I slam my glass down and gasp for breath as I suck on my lime.
Gabe sets his glass beside mine. “My turn.” I brace myself, because he has a strange look in his eyes.
“Okay, what?”
“Do you really hate me calling you Millie?” I arch my brow.
I guess I was expecting something different to come out of his mouth, something that might touch on what’s really happening between us.
I hesitate, my thoughts swirling. His eyes search mine for an answer, and when I don’t give him one right away, he nods.
"Fine. If you hate it, I’ll stop," he says, his voice tinged with something I can’t quite place. Disappointment? Hurt?
“Oh, now you’ll stop, will you,” I shoot back. “You’ve been doing it ever since I knew you.”
“I told you. It suits you.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes. “I’m cute.”
“Hey.” He takes one of my hands in his, a spark igniting between us. “The truth is, I call you Millie because… well, because I wanted my own special name for you, because you’re so fucking special to me.”
I’m special to him…
He scrunches up his face in that adorable way, and with a playful grin, he refills our shot glasses that say, ‘truth serum’.
“That’s weird though, right?” he adds, uncertainty, vulnerability flickering in his eyes.
As he salts us back up, my throat tightens. “Gabe, if we’re being honest…” I hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I pick up my shot glass, liquid courage, and toss back the poison, the harshness burning down my throat. I wince, gasping for breath. “Ohmigod, this is awful.”
But even as the taste lingers—bitter and sharp—I can’t help but smile at him through the haze. The honest to God’s truth here is that I love the idea of us sharing our intimate secrets, our fears, and I crave the honesty we’re both finally starting to peel back.
“It’s only awful for the first couple of glasses.” His little dimple warms me all over. “Then it gets better.”
“Why, because then I pass out?”
“Finish what you were going to say,” he urges quietly, getting me back on track.
“I like you calling me Millie. I like that you have a special name for me. I like that I’m special to you.” His face softens and I ask, “Gabe Gerard, do you hate me calling you Gigi?”
He lightly brushes his thumb over my hand. “I don’t love my middle name and don’t tell it to people, but I don’t mind you knowing something about me that others don’t.” A pause and then, “Does that mean I’m special to you?”
“Yes.”
Everything about him sobers and I sit up a bit straighter, sensing he’s about to tell me something very important.
“Your prom…” A long pause and then, “I used to think I knew what was best for you. I was older, and—”
“Definitely not wiser.”
“Hey!”
I laugh and poke his chest. “Like I said before. You do not get to tell me what to do. Nor do you know what’s best for me.”
He leans in, like we’re conspiring. “You didn’t seem to mind me telling you what to do in the bedroom, and you have to admit, I kind of knew what was best for you, don’t you think?”
“Correction.” I poke him again. “You do not get to tell me what to do or decide what is best for me, outside the bedroom.”
We both burst out laughing, and my heart fills with happiness. I love this intimacy, our banter.
I love this man.
“My prom,” I begin. “I thought…” I wave my hand back and forth between the two of us as my brain takes a painful trip down memory lane. “I thought…” I take another fast drink and not bothering with the lime, I ask, “Why did you kiss Jenny Garrity?”
His shoulders sag, deep regret tugging at his mouth. “Actually, she kissed me and when I saw you watching, I let it happen.” I frown, not really understanding. He runs agitated fingers through is hair. “I was so fucking crazy about you, Millie.”
He was crazy about me?
Ohmigod, he was crazy about me!
I wasn’t imagining it at all.
My heart jumps into my throat, a wave of hope and excitement washing over me.
“But you had the Olympics,” he says softly, his voice strained with the weight of old memories.
“I lived in Boston. Your brother. I didn’t want to be the one who added friction to your life.
I needed you to stay focused, without conflict, without complications.
” He runs his fingers through his hair again, messing it up in that familiar way that makes my heart clench.
“After I kissed you, I wanted more. God, I sensed you did too. I just couldn’t, you know.
I thought…I thought if I let the kiss with Jenny happen, it would make everything clear.
For you. For me. A line wouldn’t be crossed. ”
“I thought you put distance between us because you knew I liked you, and you didn’t feel the same.”
“Babe, I did feel the same, but the circumstances, the timing…” He looks down, his voice cracking as he continues. “I never, ever meant to hurt you. I only ever wanted to love you, but I couldn’t then…not the way I wanted to. Not the way I did today.”
As his words land in my tequila-soaked brain, I realize we both hurt each other, and as I struggle to make sense of it all, my heart is heavy with the time I spent hating him, the time we lost together.
“Wow, you really did think you knew what was best for me.” His eyes meet mine, raw and vulnerable. “Maybe you were right, Gabe.”
His brow furrows in surprise, a glimmer of something hopeful flickering in his gaze. “Wait, did you just say I was right about something?”
As his words ease the tension around us, I playfully whack him on the arm. “Stop it.” I take another drink, the burn cutting through the moment, but only making it feel more real. “I did have the Olympics, and I did have some maturing to do. You were a lot older.”
He toys with his glass, fingers deftly tracing the rim as he shrugs. “I mean, not a lot.”
“Enough, though. At the time,” I insist, my voice softer now, the memories creeping back.
His eyes latch onto mine, filled with an intensity that makes my heart race. Need mingles with hope when he asks, “And now?”
The air between us shifts, and I take a moment, feeling the weight of his question. “Now…” I begin, my voice barely a whisper.
“Hey guys, there you are.” Brighton steps up to us, and puts a hand on our backs. “We’ve been looking for you. It’s birthday cake time.” Her gaze goes back and forth between us and she suddenly steps back. “Wait, am I interrupting something here?”
Gabe watches me, waiting for me to answer. “No, not at all. I think I’m ready for cake.” I ease off the stool and catch Brighton’s curious glance. She’s no doubt wondering what the hell is going on with Gabe and me, considering I didn’t go on the catamaran because I wanted to avoid him.
“Everything okay?” she whispers, as we walk along the path leading to the outdoor café.
I glance over my shoulder to see Gabe following, worry tugging his brows together. “I sure hope so,” I answer.
She doesn’t press, instead she leads me to our friends, who are all seated around a long table, a big cake set at one end. “Did you guys have fun?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Dani’s gaze goes back and forth between Gabe and me when he pulls a chair out for me to sit at the head of the table. “Did you too?”
“We did.” I sit, and Gabe pushes my chair in for me. As he hovers close by, my thoughts go to Ryder. I would never, ever want anything to come between two best friends, and if I play my cards right today, or rather, play my ‘yes’ game right, nothing ever will.
Conner lights the single candle, its soft glow flickering in the evening breeze. “This is all we could find,” he says with a sheepish smile.
“It’s perfect,” I reply, my heart swelling as I look around at my friends. Their familiar faces, filled with warmth and joy, make everything feel right in this moment.