Chapter 20
TWENTY
CRICKET
“One more bite,” Gabriel urges. “Please?”
Mouth full, I shake my head, pressing my lips together firmly. He scoots his chair around the small table to get closer to me. The corner of his chair catches the tablecloth, twisting it slightly. It’s shocking it’s still so clean and pristine. Over the past hour, we’ve had platters upon platters of savory souffles, sinfully delectable French bakery desserts, and the most delicious coffee I’ve ever tasted. Not a drop was spilled on the luxury tablecloth or the matching cloth napkin in my lap.
“I sold this entire date on the croissant. You have to try it.”
I hold my stomach. “Gabriel, please. I’m not trying to be dainty and modest. I truly am so full, it hurts. One more bite of anything, and I will pop like an overfilled, human-shaped balloon. You don’t want to see that.”
Gabriel tilts his head to one side and squints one eye. “I’ll risk it.” He picks up the fluffy croissant that’s slathered in thick milk chocolate and sprinkled with a dash of salt. He touches it to my lips, chocolate side first. “One little bite, and I’ll leave you alone.”
My jaw creaks open reluctantly. With his eyes locked on mine, Gabriel slides the tip of the croissant as far into my mouth as my lips allow.
“Bite,” he instructs.
I clamp down on the bread half-heartedly. He tears the pastry away from my mouth, leaving a small bite to melt on my tongue. The flavor is chaotic, explosive, and probably the most invigorating sweet I’ve ever had. I slowly chew, savoring the sensation.
Gabriel stares at me expectantly, pumping his brows. “Amazing, right?”
“I… Wow. Um, it’s a little…smoky?”
“The chef uses a Hawaiian-style black lava salt instead of a traditional sea salt. It’s genius.”
“It’s so delicious. I don’t even regret that bite.”
He lifts the croissant up once more. “You want another?”
“You’re going to be the death of me.” But I open my mouth and let him feed me another nibble.
Gabriel takes a bite of the croissant himself, then sets it down on the antique-looking plate. The entire bed-and-breakfast, called Sugar, has a 19 th -century Victorian air about it. It’s meticulously decorated, but all the subtle features blend so seamlessly that it’s easy to overlook all the intricacies.
Gabriel wraps his arm around the back of my chair. Immediately, I feel the warmth of his body and have to resist the urge to scoot my chair away. I love everything about this date except one thing. The ambiance, the food, the conversation—it’s all perfection…but the man next to me is not the one I love.
“What’s on your mind, Fiona?” Gabriel asks, seeming to read the distraction in my expression.
“I was just thinking that I understand you owning The Dollhouse, and The Crusader, but this place? It doesn’t seem to suit you. How did you end up with a bed-and-breakfast like this?”
Gabriel drops his arm. He folds his arms over his chest and leans away from me. “So, we’re going in deep on date one?”
It’s hard to read his reaction. I can’t tell if he’s offended or intrigued. “I didn’t know that was a deep question. I’m sorry—”
“Oh, I’m happy to,” he says, “but you have to promise me that if I open up to you, you’ll do the same. An even exchange. Can you do that for me, Fiona?”
“Yes,” I say, knowing damn well it’s another lie.
“I fell in love for the first time here, at this very bed-and-breakfast. I was only nineteen.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Thought I knew everything. Anyway, back then, it was called Our Good Lady, or some nonsense like that. I don’t know how I stumbled upon this place, honestly. I was raised in California, so I suppose I was curious to know what the east side of the country thought good wine was.”
“California wine is better?”
“Oh,” he scoffs, “supremely so. Not that I should’ve known that at nineteen”—he winks—“but these vineyards have a unique charm.”
“Your parents let you drink wine?”
“Under their supervision, since I was fourteen. My father was a sommelier. We didn’t drink to get drunk. We drank to learn and appreciate art.”
There’s that word again. Art— the way Gabriel seems to view everything in his world.
“My father used to let me drink his whiskey so I could learn to tell the difference between single and double malt just by tasting it,” I admit.
“Oh,” Gabriel says with a smirk. “I didn’t realize you were such a sophisticated drinker.”
“I’m not. I used to force myself to drink it because I thought it made my dad proud. When he died… I didn’t have to bother with it anymore.”
Gabriel places his large hand on my knee. “Were you and your dad close?”
“No,” I lie again. I snatch the croissant up from the table and stuff another big bite into my mouth. My stomach protests, but if I’m chewing, I can control the emotional outbreak in my expression. Once I’ve chewed and swallowed, I ask Gabriel, “What happened with your girl?”
“Woman,” he corrects. “She was a little older…and married.” He looks away, ashamed. “I know how that sounds, but please understand I was a nineteen-year-old boy who didn’t know any better. I thought she loved me. I thought she would choose me. It’s a mistake I’ll never make again.”
“Is that why you asked your server last night to—”
“Ensure you were single, yes. I can’t bear the idea of falling for yet another woman who isn’t mine to keep. It was excruciating.”
“How long did the affair go on?”
“Years,” he says. “We’d meet here in secret and spend the weekends together. It was always the same. Fuck, fight, then feast. She was my whole life. I would live for the weekends spent here with her. We’d only leave the bed to open the door for room service.”
“If you were so in love, why didn’t she leave her husband?”
“I still ask that question to this day.” Gabriel gives me a clipped smile, his jaw tensing. “Eventually, the guilt caught up with her. She left me, for good. I went through a dark time after that.”
“Why would you buy this place, then? Isn’t that holding on to painful memories?”
“After my business took off and I had more money than any sane human would know what to do with, I came back here to buy that.” Gabriel points over his shoulder, to the corner of the room. I was so focused on the ambiance and the food, I didn’t even notice the large, glass feature in the far-right corner of the dining area.
“Is that a—”
“Dollhouse? Yes. All made of glass. It was her favorite thing about this place. She was obsessed, really. She thought it was the most beautiful and peaceful thing she’d ever seen. A perfect house with glass walls. As a last-ditch effort to win her back, I wanted to see if I could buy it for her, but the entire display is anchored down. Moving that house would shatter it.”
“So, you bought the entire bed-and-breakfast instead?”
Gabriel nods. “I did. But it didn’t work. She never came back to me. Even still, I never had the heart to let it go. I even named it for her— Sugar .”
“Her name was Sugar?” I ask.
“Just a nickname,” he answers.
The look in Gabriel’s eyes tells me he’s still caught up on her. That makes my job a little harder, but at least a little less guilt-ridden. So, we’re both in love with other people. Perhaps he’s using me like I’m using him.
I point to the glass house. “Is that what inspired your club?”
He chuckles. “Am I that transparent?”
“Well, it’s a glass dollhouse…and you have a club with little glass rooms quite literally called The Dollhouse…so, forgive me if I’m reaching but…”
After studying the strain on my face, Gabriel bursts into laughter. “Some men go to therapy and work on their trauma. I, however, buy businesses and leave little pieces of my personal hell in each one.”
“Very inspiring.” I show him a small smile. I can’t stand his sad eyes, and the way he’s trying to laugh off a clearly painful memory. Gabriel and I might be more alike than I realized. I reach out and touch his forearm. “I’m sorry she didn’t choose you.”
“It’s okay. Lesson learned,” he says.
“What lesson?”
He gives me a pointed look. “I don’t do liars.”
My stomach churns. Maybe it’s the fact that I ate well past full. Or maybe it’s the way Gabriel’s looking at me like he’s about to call me on my shit. It’s unnerving. For the most part, this man is flawless, an absolute gentleman. But here and there, I see a dangerous flicker in his eyes that makes me think Vienne’s concerns are valid.
It’s just still too soon to tell.
“So,” Gabriel says, clapping his hands together loudly, making me flinch. “Your turn. I told you my sad story. Now, it’s your turn. How did your first love end, Fiona?”
End?
It didn’t.