40. Gabriel
Gabriel
As soon as the door closes behind Alexis, the foyer is enveloped in a heavy, ringing silence.
My chest is tight, and I close my eyes, trying to ground myself, but it doesn’t work. The sound of the door closing echoes in my head like the reverberations of a gong. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
With effort, I force myself to move. I can’t just stand here, so I make my way down the hall toward the living room.
I cross the space to the wet bar and pour myself a glass of scotch with shaky hands. The glass clinks against the decanter as I pour, my grip unsteady. I take a sip, but the sharp burn of the liquor doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest like I’d hoped it would.
As I stare into the depths of the glass, I will the scotch inside it to provide answers, clarity, anything to make sense of what I’ve just done. But the silence presses in around me, suffocating.
I stumble over to an armchair and sink into the leather cushions.
The room feels cold, lifeless, as though her absence has stripped it of all warmth.
I take another sip of the scotch, slower this time, the burn trailing down my throat like a punishment I deserve.
Then my eyes flutter shut. My head droops, resting against my hand.
I stay that way—eyes closed, numb—for several moments. Then something tickles my hand, startling me.
It’s Pepper. Peyton’s kitten. Her whiskers brush my skin as she nudges her tiny, pink nose against my fingers. I blink down at her, surprised by the interruption. She meows, her bright eyes peering up at me curiously.
Ever since we gave her more freedom to explore the house, she’s been exploring every nook and cranny.
She’s proven herself to be a tenacious little thing.
Already, I’ve had to fish her out of my laundry hamper twice.
and found her rooting around in the lower kitchen cupboards, which she somehow figured out how to open.
Alexis and I spent some time yesterday cat-proofing the house.
We tied the cupboards closed with rubber bands, and she shot one of them at me over the kitchen island, which resulted in a full-blown rubber band war.
A truce only settled once we were both out of ammo, whereupon we moved on to other activities that required no less exertion.
It’s hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago, things were so different. Pepper is a walking, breathing reminder of Alexis, and right now, the reminder is less than welcome.
“What do you want?” I mutter.
Pepper jumps up onto my lap in answer. She butts her head against my chest. Her paws knead my pants, claws snagging on the fibers as she prepares herself to settle into my lap.
“Yeah, yeah.” I sigh, letting one hand rest on the kitten’s back. She arches into the contact. I can feel the rumble of her purring as she tucks her paws under her belly, getting comfortable.
My hand moves absently, stroking the kitten’s soft fur. The purring increases in volume. It’s hard to believe that such a huge sound can come from such a small creature.
For a few seconds, the ache in my chest eases.
Not gone, but dulled. The room feels slightly less empty than it did before.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the chair, my other hand hanging limp at my side.
My fingers keep moving, though, almost involuntarily, stroking along the sleek line of her spine.
The sound of Pepper’s purring fills the room, swelling until it drowns out even the oppressive silence pressing in on me from every corner.
“Don’t get used to this,” I murmur, even though I know she can’t understand me. My hand stills on her back, but she stays, unbothered. “I don’t think I’ll ever be someone you can count on.”
I crack one eye open to look down at the little bundle of fur.
To my surprise, she’s staring up at me, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.
I get the sense that I’m being judged. It’s ridiculous, I know that.
Cats don’t have expressions. And yet, somehow, Pepper’s gaze looks bewildered. And maybe even… accusatory.
I know that’s probably more because I stopped petting her, but I can’t help feeling that she somehow knows what just happened. Her wide eyes seem to say, What’s wrong with you? Why did you chase her away?
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I already feel bad enough as it is.”
Pepper tilts her head, as if she’s considering my excuse and finding it lacking. Then, with a delicate huff, one I’m sure I’m imagining, she stretches out her front legs, her tiny claws grazing my shirt.
“There was no other way,” I say heavily. I resume stroking the kitten’s head, and her eyes squint as she leans into my touch. “I had to do it.”
It’s true. There really was nothing else for it. But the look on Alexis’s face still lingers at the forefront of my mind. I can’t shake it. Her wide, wounded eyes, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.
I run my free hand through my hair, tugging slightly at the roots in frustration. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt her. But wanting and needing are two very different things, and this was the latter. Necessary. Unavoidable.
Wasn’t it?
The thought echoes in my mind, unwanted and unwelcome. I pick up my glass and take another sip of scotch.
I feel like a fucking monster.
I grit my teeth, trying to harden myself. I didn’t have a choice. I tell myself that over and over, like a mantra, but it doesn’t make the knot in my chest loosen.
The front door opens, and Peyton’s voice rings out. “Pepper! We’re home! Where are you?”
Margaret’s voice follows, calm and kind. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’ll trip.”
I set the glass down on the coffee table. On my lap, Pepper stirs, her ears twitching at the sound of Peyton’s voice. She lets out a small, inquisitive meow but doesn’t move from her spot.
“Daddy?” Peyton’s voice carries through the house as her footsteps patter closer. “Are you in here?”
I force myself to sit up straighter, brushing a hand down my face in an attempt to pull myself together. “In the living room.”
Peyton bursts into the room a minute later, her face lighting up when she sees me. She freezes mid-step when her eyes land on Pepper, still curled up on my lap.
“Pepper’s cuddling with you?” she asks in wonder, as if witnessing a rare and magical event. Like she just walked in on me bonding with a unicorn.
“Looks like it,” I reply, attempting a small smile. “She’s been keeping me company.”
Peyton giggles and bounds over to the armchair. She’s still wearing her light-up sneakers. As she leans over to scratch Pepper behind the ears, Margaret appears in the doorway. “Shoes, kiddo.”
“Oh, right.” Peyton straightens up quickly, glancing down at her feet. “Sorry, Miss Maggie!”
She rushes back into the foyer, then returns without her sneakers, her pink socks soundless on the hardwood floor. She jumps up onto the arm of the chair and holds out her hand for Pepper to sniff, grinning when the kitten gives her an approving head bump.
“You’re good to go if you want,” I say to Margaret. “Thanks for everything.”
She gives me a long, appraising look, like she’s weighing something in her mind. I’m not sure how she knows what just happened, but it’s clear that she knows. She’s always had that uncanny sense, the ability to scan me to the core with just a glance.
There’s a softness in her gaze, a quiet understanding, but she doesn’t press me for details. Instead, she nods and steps toward the door.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Margaret calls from the foyer. “I’m just a phone call away.”
When the door closes behind her, Peyton looks up at me with wide eyes. “Daddy, we went to the cat cafe.”
“The cat cafe?” I echo, my words feeling sluggish. “Why go to the cat cafe when you’ve got a cat right here at home?”
“I wanted to see what kind of toys they were playing with,” Peyton tells me. “So that we could get them for Pepper. They had a big wheel that the kitties were running on. And platforms all over the walls for them to climb on.”
“Sounds like a cat paradise.” I scratch Pepper’s chin absent-mindedly, and she lifts her head to allow me access, purring up a storm.
“Do you think Pepper will be lonely by herself?” Peyton asks. “Because all the kitties at the cat cafe are friends, and they cuddled together—”
“She won’t be lonely,” I say. “She’s got her family.”
Family. At the word, I feel as though a ball of lead drops into my stomach. I grimace, turning away so that Peyton won’t see the emotions as they cross my face.
“That’s true,” Peyton says brightly. “I’ll make sure I play with her a ton. And I’ll be like her big kitty friend.”
“How about we go get something together for dinner, Bug?” I start to stand, moving Pepper to the arm of the chair. She lets out a tiny squeak of protest, but she’s so small that it’s easy to shift her off my lap.
“Yes! I’m hungry.” Peyton skips a few steps toward the kitchen, then stops and looks back at me. “Where’s Alexis?”
I freeze. This is the part I was dreading.
Peyton’s only six years old, and she’s already lost so much in her short life.
I don’t know how to explain this to her.
There’s no way she can possibly understand.
Hell, Alexis herself didn’t understand. There’s nothing about this situation that makes sense, and even if it did, that wouldn’t cancel out the hurt it’s sure to cause.
I draw in a slow, deep breath, steeling myself. Then I clear my throat. “Alexis… isn’t here.”