“I’m sorry.”
“Me too, but at least she isn’t suffering, and everyone else doesn’t have to watch her do it.”
“Yeah, at least,” I mumbled.
He ran the tip of his nose along the bridge of mine (gah! could he get more awesome?) and whispered, “It’s life, baby.”
“I’m just upset I brought it up when we should still be mellow after great sex.”
“Sharing with you doesn’t make me less mellow, cupcake,” he replied. “It’s fuckin’ awesome you wanna know about me.”
Uh-oh.
Gabe felt my abrupt shift in mood, so he said firmly, “Babe, she’s gone.”
“So I take it Ariana didn’t ask much about you either.”
“She’s gone.”
She didn’t ask much.
That bitch.
“Did your Gran die?—?”
He cut me off to confirm my not-fully-asked question. “Yes, right before I got together with her.”
“So this was also after?—?”
He interrupted me again before I could say “Denise.”
“Yeah.”
Oh.
My.
God.
Ariana was such a bitch.
“So you get to hunt down Christian and hand him his ass, verbally only, of course, and I can’t be pissed as shit about Ariana?” I demanded.
“There are no words to express how little she’s worth your emotion,” he stated unequivocally.
And that unequivocally was seriously unequivocable.
Oh.
Well then.
He rolled to his back and tucked me to his side, ordering, “Shake it off and go to sleep.”
“Our deal is, you’re only allowed to be bossy on certain occasions, Gabriel Stark,” I reminded him.
He sighed.
Then he rolled into me again.
