Chapter 11
Lincoln's POV
Dead inside. That’s how I feel right now.
Why does it feel so hollow? Why do I feel like I betrayed Gabrielle? It’s not like we’re together anymore. Gabrielle is my ex-wife, but I do still love her. And somehow, fucking Sarah… isn’t doing it for me the way it used to.
Of course it feels good.
It’s sex. I like coming. But that’s not why I came over here. Sarah wanted to talk to me, and this was a good opportunity because honestly, I’ve been meaning to talk to her as well.
The last thing I expected was for us to end up having sex on her rug.
And now I feel like shit, even as I enter my house and see Gabby up with Morris, entertaining the little cat with one of his toys; a stick with a feather on the end of it.
“Oh hey. Everything okay? You really should have let me drive you,” she says, and I feel guilty all over again.
I don’t owe her any explanations. She doesn’t know where I went, and yet I feel like I still need to tell her.
Should I?
No. That’s only going to make her mad. But why would it? She doesn’t want me anymore… but then again she had sex with me. That could have been a tension release.
She explicitly let me know she doesn’t want to get back with me, so why am I even bent out of shape about this?
Maybe I should just go to bed. No sense sharing a piece of information that’s not going to benefit anybody.
The next morning I wake up to sounds. Sounds like cutlery.
I head to the kitchen and see Gabrielle dancing. She put little decorations up a few days ago; nothing much, just a tiny Christmas tree for the counter, something small in the bathrooms the way she used to.
She was always great at decorating, but now it looks like she got an actual Christmas tree and dressed it. It looks like a fake one, but still; it’s gorgeous, and it’s lit up.
Sarah would do little things like that too, but not to this degree where the whole house felt like Christmas on Christmas Eve.
Morris, of course, is climbing to the top of the tree, playing with an ornament that looks like a fluffy ball hanging from it, trying to get it off.
The cat is successful and launches off the tree onto his feet, light as a feather, and runs past me when I try to grab him.
“Morris!” I call out, trying to grab the cat, but he’s gone. At that point Gabrielle turns around.
Her hair is in one long braid down her back, and when she sees me she gives me the brightest smile, and my heart just stops.
Just stops.
There’s music playing faintly in the background, and whatever she’s cooking smells amazing.
“Happy Christmas Eve,” she says, smiling.
She’s always happy on Christmas Eve.
It hurts, remembering how last Christmas Eve was depressing as hell because I spent it without her, since we were divorced. I spent it with Sarah after she came back from hanging out with her family, who she barely hangs out with.
All we did was drink hot chocolate and fuck each other and then watch Christmas movies. She ordered us a bunch of takeout and tried to bake a cake, which failed epically.
At the time, even through the pain, I thought it was cute.
But even as I sat there with Sarah last year in bed as she sucked me off to make up for it, I kept thinking about Gabrielle, wondering what she was doing, wondering if that Christmas Eve she was under somebody else, making them smile, cooking a big breakfast for them just because she believes so heavily in Christmas spirit.
“You just going to stand there, big boy?”
I smile, and something comes over me. Strolling shyly up to her, I lean in to hug her, pulling her close.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” I say quietly, just holding her, not wanting to let go.
Gabrielle pulls back after a while, still holding her smile.
“I was thinking… we can do the Christmas Bash. It’s pretty stupid, but I kind of miss doing it with you,” she says.
God. She’s in such a good mood.
“Are you okay after everything?” I ask her.
“You mean the yesterday party thing? Yeah, I think your boss was a little drunk.”
“You think my boss was the one who was drunk?” I smile with a bit of playful sarcasm.
“Why did you say it like that?” Gabrielle laughs, sharing out the crepes she made along with the fluffiest scrambled eggs and little pieces of ham cut into stars.
“Because… I mean do you even remember what you said?”
“Yes, I remember what I said. I wasn’t drunk.”
“You basically picked a fight with my boss. Like, I understand you hate me, but were you trying to get me fired? If I get fired you don’t have a job here.”
“I swear to God I wasn’t trying to get you fired, but that asshole used to work you guys into the ground, like you were the robots you were working on, and I’m sorry, I don’t respect him.
He acts like he’s the one who did everything when a lot of the work comes from the employees,” Gabby says, totally serious as she sits at the other end of the table, ready to eat with me.
“Yeah, but baby, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have that job. He might be an asshole but he helped provide the job, since he’s one of the founders.”
“I thought he bought out the others,” Gabby adds.
“Regardless, you’re lucky he was in a good mood last night,” I say, sipping the hot chocolate she made.
God damn it, everything she made is so damn good. I didn’t realize how much I was missing. The only person who even comes close to this with cooking is my mom.
She sips her orange juice and takes a bite of food, closing her eyes and relishing her handiwork, as she should, because this could rival any pancake restaurant.
“I’m just saying sometimes men like that need to be put in their place. He wouldn’t have fired you. You’re way too important for him. And if he says shit about you or anything to your face just let me know and I’ll come back.”
“Well he meant it about hiring you apparently. Tobias doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. But it’s good that you won’t have to deal with him.”
“What do you mean?”
Staring at her is all I can do. “What do you mean what do I mean?”
“What, you guys don’t see him at all when you work there?”
“No, I mean you’re not going to be working there so it doesn’t matter.”
There’s silence.
Oh no.
“You’re not taking the job, are you?” My voice comes out a bit stiffer than I intend.
“Is there a problem with me taking the job?” Gabby challenges.
I put down my utensils. “You want to work at Helion??”
“Why not? The CEO himself said I had a job, and it pays great money. Probably way more than you’re paying me.”
“I mean… wait, hold on.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” she laughs out her answer, as if she’s shocked that I’m stunned. “Oh my God, why is this so weird for you? Only Sarah gets to work there?”
“No. I just mean it’s not… I don’t… wait, why do you want to take that job?”
“Oh my God, Lincoln, why not!? Why is it such an issue. Oh my God, it’s just like the fucking party.” Gabby starts to get mad and gets up, rolling her eyes and throwing down her napkin.
“No, please wait! Baby—”
“Stop calling me that! We’re not married and I’m not your baby.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right… I’m… I don’t have a problem with you working there.”
“Really? Kinda feels like you do.” Gabby jerks her head in my direction, her eyes narrowing.
“It’s just that it’s a brutal job, and you gave me hell about working there, and now you actually want to work there for that guy? And then what would you do there? I know how I feel when I come home—”
“I’m a grown ass woman and if I want to take a job, I can take a job.”
“Of course I’m not saying tha—”
“There were plenty of decisions you made that you did not take me into consideration whatsoever when we were married, so I don’t know why the hell you think I would take any considerations from you being that we’re not married.
And don’t tell me that you won’t have anybody to watch Morris because you can still pay me, because I’ll still be watching him, ’cause I’ll still have him with me, and I can make the extra money from that job. Is there a problem?” she challenges.
“If you’re working there, why would I pay you?”
“Because I’m still watching your cat! Holy shit, Link, keep up.”
“Okay, don’t talk to me like that.” I can feel myself getting angry because it’s like she’s trying to pick a fight with me.
Probably the wrong thing to say, but I can’t help it.
Gabby puts her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I shouldn’t talk to you like that? Really?”
“Gabrielle, why are we fighting on Christmas Eve?”
“You’re the one who’s choosing to fight! It’s really not that serious.”
“I was asking you a damn question!” I feel myself yelling.
“No! You were trying to control me by implying I shouldn’t take the job. I’m not stupid, Lincoln, I’d been with you long enough, so don’t act like you weren’t doing something you were doing.”
“All I’m saying is it’s not the best environment, and you probably won’t be happy there, and you said shit about that company plenty of—”
“So let me make my own decision. You’re making bank off of it, why can’t I? Unless there’s something else you don’t want me to see. But I don’t see why that would matter because we’re… not… married. I already know you’re fucking Sarah, so it’s not like it’s a secret.”
A big part of me wants to tell her, to be honest that I slept with Sarah last night, just to challenge her, just to see if she actually cares. There are times when Gabrielle acts like she cares… and then she doesn’t.
I remember how she took care of me and saved my life. But would she have done that with anyone?
Sarah probably would have done that too.
But deep down, in the subconscious, I know Gabrielle still cares for me. If we end up working closer together, it’ll complicate everything. I won’t be able to concentrate at work. And what the hell would she be doing there? She isn’t trained for any of it.
The last thing I want is for her to also be strained in a job she doesn’t like. And Tobias would probably work her as hard as everyone else, maybe even harder just to get back at me.
That’s one of my worries.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
The easy-going backdrop of Christmas music seems in direct contrast to the tension between us.
“You have every right to do what you want to do and work where you want to work, and I think it’s very generous of you to even offer to take care of Morris despite all of that. You don’t have to.”
The tension seems to ebb in the silence permeating the room. Then she breaks it.
“I meant it. He’s basically my cat now,” she gives me a small smirk.
I smirk back.
“Let’s do the stupid bash thing,” I say, breaking the ice.
More tension slips from Gabrielle’s face, allowing a smile to spread.
We put on some Christmas music and start up the game Dance or Drop.
The game splits the screen so each of us has to perform moves and keep our high scores through different choreographies. It’s Christmas-themed, and we used to do this every year, at least when we were together.
Looking over at Gabby, I can tell how much fun she’s having, and for a moment… everything feels like it was
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