“I love you, Tori, please never question that. I will always love you.” His expression was so serious that fear crawled up my spine.
“Gabe, what’s wrong? Ever since you talked to your sister, you’ve been acting off.”
His eyes flicked from mine, a grimace drawing his lips down. “Nothing. It’s fine.” He turned his body toward me and cupped my face in his hands. “Tori, I need…” I watched as he slowly unraveled, and I couldn’t help him because I had no idea what was wrong.
“What? Is there something you want to tell me? Another secret?”
Darkness crossed his eyes, the change pronounced. “No, it’s nothing,” he muttered, dropping his hands. “What are you planning to do with the paper and scissors?” Another mood shift and a sexy tug at his lips. “Something kinky?”
I stared at him, trying to read the man I loved, who was so hard to read sometimes. Who still kept secrets from me that I allowed because I knew he loved me too much to let those secrets ever hurt me. He glanced back at me, the hardness that had been there moments before gone. There was something in that look that pleaded with me not to push him, and I relented.
Smiling, I said, “Get your mind out of the gutter,” playfully nudging him. “We’re making paper flowers for the wedding.”
I leaned over and picked the paper and scissors up. Handing him a pair and a few sheets of paper, I tried to ignore how he had flinched when I’d mentioned the wedding.
“You know, we can afford real flowers, right?” he asked, his brow raised.
“Of course, I do. These are to decorate the tables. A little something special to represent our love.”
“Wait, we’re going to make bouquets of paper flowers for every table?”
I laughed at his horror. “Not all at once. We have two months. So we make a little every night, and we’ll have enough by April.”
Again, the slight drop in his mood. Something was bothering him about the wedding, and I suspected his sister was behind it.
“Watch and learn,” I told him, folding my paper like my mother had taught me when I was young and we would spend rainy days making crafts.
Gabe kept his focus on making the flowers, avoiding my eyes and keeping silent. By the time my fingers were sore, we had a pile of various colors and types. I picked up a pink one shaped like a daisy and handed it to him.
“This one will go on our table. Now pick one.”
He took the daisy from me, his eyes suddenly so sad that it caused my chest to hurt. He clung to it while he picked up a yellow daisy he had made. It was a mirror of mine, and I took it from him, tears pricking at my eyes.
“Two halves of a shared heart,” he said. “You will always own my heart, luna mia. There will never be a time when it doesn’t belong to you. I promise you that.”
My chest tightened, something nudging me that this moment was one I would look back at forever, that our paper flowers would be with us until they grew faded and worn.
“I love you, Gabe.”
“I know.” Hand wrapping around my neck, he brought me forward, our lips touching and reigniting the fire in me. Our flowers fell as he scooped me up and took me back to the bedroom, where he spent the rest of the night worshiping me.
I worried about Gabe during my entire shift the next day. He’d barely let me leave that morning, ravaging me before I could get out of bed and then grabbing me as I left the apartment, kissing me like the world was ending. His stamina had always been amazing, but I couldn’t help but think he was desperately trying to get as much of me as he could before some expiration date.
I texted him repeatedly throughout the day, but his replies seemed forced, especially when I called and asked about what he’d been up to when I was on my lunch break.
“Just working,” he said, his voice distant.
“Are you sitting in front of those computer screens again?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, I couldn’t hide my shock. “They won’t be here when you get home.” There was regret in his tone along with guilt.
“Why? What happened?”
He worked nonstop. Even on his days off, he would spend time on his computer. Monitoring his investments was the only answer he gave when I questioned him.
“I… I should spend more time with you and not on my computer.” The answer sounded false, and I scratched my head trying to figure out what he was doing. “I sold the monitors today, and I’ve got the hard drive loaded in my car to drop off at a recycle center.”
I knew my mouth was gaping, but I was at a loss for words.
