Gabriel’s gaze slides over my place, peering around like there’s more to see. There’s not. Aside from the small living room and kitchen, it’s just my bedroom and the bathroom.
He strides over, sitting down on the couch. “Did you sell our things?”
The couch is new. The coffee table is new. Every piece of furniture in this place is new.
“I sold some. Others I gave to Salvation Army.” I wonder what this is like for him. In a rented cabin in Sugar Creek, we were in neutral territory. Now he’s in my home. It has to be uncomfortable.
I close the door and sit beside him. “Should I ask how you found out where I live?”
“Camryn told me.”
My head rears back in shock. “Camryn?” Why would she do that? That seems out of character for her, to not at least ask before handing out my address.
He sits back, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. Then he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. His right leg bounces.
I watch, fascinated by his restlessness. “You ok?”
He looks at me. “Yeah. I’m—” His eyes focus on my hand. Specifically, the fourth finger in on my left hand.
My wedding ring. I didn’t take it off last night. I showered with it on, slept with it on, applied moisturizer with it on. This wasn’t an absentminded mistake. I knew it was there, felt thrilled at its heaviness, the same way I did when it was first placed on my finger.
My thumb pushes the ring around my finger as I scramble for what to say. Gabriel fills in the silence by asking, “How often do you do that?”
“This is the first time I’ve put it on since I took it off.” Sliding the ring onto my finger means conjuring up the day he put it there, and I already spend plenty of time with my memories.
A timer dings. I stand. “Come on.”
He follows me into the kitchen. I stuff my hands into oven mitts and pull a coffee cake from the oven.
Gabriel peers over, eyebrows drawn. “So that smell isn’t a candle. I forget you’re competent in the kitchen now.”
I can’t help my proud grin. “More than competent. I’m good.”
“Do I get to be your taste tester?” His expressive eyebrows lift hopefully. We could be back in our old kitchen with the outdated cabinets and the counter chipped in one corner, dancing to music Gabriel has chosen while dinners burns.
That feels like another life. A parallel universe.
I remove two plates and two forks. Gabriel takes a knife from my knife block and cuts two slices of coffee cake. He uses his fingers to pull the first slice from the pan, placing it on a plate and licking crumbs from his finger before lifting the second and plating it. He hands the second slice to me.
We eat in silence after Gabriel compliments the coffee cake. He takes my empty plate, stacking it on top of his own, and places them in the dishwasher. I don’t mention that I wash my dishes by hand. What’s the point of using the dishwasher when it’s just me? By the time the dishwasher is full, everything in there smells gross. I wash as I go.
Gabriel leans against the counter. I do the same against the opposite counter.
He’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what. How do you choose what to say when there’sa sea of words to choose from? How do you choose what to say when you’re not sure there’s a point to any of it?
“Avery?”
It's only my name, but it's really not. It is strain, and torture. Pain, and hope.
Gabriel drags a hand through his hair. “Would you consider trying again with me? If we lived in the same place? I know we talked about it in Sugar Creek, but…” He trails off, but it’s not because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s more like he has too many thoughts, and he needs to decide which one to voice. Like he, too, has a sea of words swirling in his mind.
“Gabriel, I—” I cut off, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes.
“I know you’re scared, and?—”
He stops talking when he sees me shaking my head. It’s true that I am so scared, terrified out of my mind. The very thing I want the most also carries the ability to decimate me. But, there’s more. “It’s not only fear. It’strauma. And just because I objectively understand trauma is something that can be dealt with, doesn’t mean it’s not hell getting through it.”
Gabriel vaults over the small space, taking me by surprise when he grabs my hands. “I’m sorry, Avery.” Intensity fires up his brown eyes. “I understand now how important choices are to you. I want you to choose me.” He gestures from his chest to mine. “My choice is already made. I don’t think I ever had one. For me, it was over from the start. It’s different for you. I made it different. I know that, and I am sorry. I haven’t officially asked for your forgiveness, because I wasn’t certain I deserved it. But I’m here, right now, asking for your forgiveness.”
