Then, since it was our only choice, forever and always, we got on with it.
FIVE
THE MOTHERLODE
I was in my kitchen, finishing with fastening my ribbon around the sheet cake box, when I heard two sharp raps on the door.
I was about to go and see who it was when I heard Gabe call, “It’s me.”
Since I’d had a day, I’d given up on finding the energy to pull together the words to let him down easy this time, and instead, I was about to yell at him to buzz off.
But I heard the locks open, and there he was in all his glory, striding in like he paid rent.
I screwed my eyes up at him. “I thought I told you we weren’t doing this.”
“Nothin’ wrong with my hearing,” he replied, coming to a stop across from me and looking down at the cornucopia of goodness laid out on my kitchen bar.
Yet again, I was about to say or do something, but Gabe speaking stopped me.
“Tell me you got extras of those,” and then he pointed at the Boston cream cupcakes.
I stared at his face, and I did it suddenly not feeling ornery, but rather besotted and bewitched.
I’d noticed that Gabriel Stark didn’t give much away.
He wasn’t closed off, per se, he just wasn’t a talker. He kept his cards close to his chest. He was watchful, observant, and present, but he wasn’t a sharer or outgoing.
Though, he was there when he was needed.
Always.
Like, he helped move me in, and Luna, Jess, Shanti, Gemma and Joey. He helped Javi build the closet Harlow designed for Shirleen and Moses when she organized them. He helped clear the dead stuff out of the yard of Tex and his wife Nancy’s new house so they could save some money when it was re-landscaped.
But now he was staring at those cupcakes—my cupcakes—like he wanted to dive face first into them.
And he wasn’t hiding it.
Something around my heart started squeezing and I found myself utterly dejected when I had to say, “No.”
He lifted his gaze to me.
Just like when I gave him that look when he said he’d be waiting after I made the delivery last night, he caught my look now, and I knew he instantly deciphered it by the way those blue-blue eyes warmed and the whiskered skin around his beautiful, full lips softened.
“No big deal, babe,” he said quietly.
“They’re Boston cream, filled with custard. I have leftover custard,” my mouth offered without my brain even close to catching up.
“Sounds good. You want me to take care of getting rid of that for you, I’ll do it after I feed you dinner.”
I blinked.
Dinner?
“This one ready to go?” he asked, taking charge of the sheet cake.
I opened my mouth.
And swish, the sheet cake was gone, and he was walking to the door.
