Gabriel rubs my back, warming me. “Something like that. What I really want is a kiss.”
I place a quick, soft kiss against his mouth. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Let’s assume every time I pass you when we’re cooking, I want you to pause and kiss me.”
“I think we’re at serious risk of burning whatever we’re cooking if we do that.” I hand him the utensils he asked for.
He takes them from me. “I’m willing to take that risk.”
Joy bubbles up inside me, and I laugh. I’ve never been so happy in my life. “Then you have yourself a deal.”
We end up burning dinner. It’s less the fault of the momentary kisses and more the fault of the lovemaking on the kitchen table.
Gabriel chews his burned dinner and refuses to make a face. I make no such attempts.
“This is awful,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand and wincing as I try to power through it.
Gabriel shakes his head, still not acknowledging how bad it is. “Delicious. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We do the dishes and cuddle under a shared blanket on the couch. I rest my head on his shoulder, and the next thing I know I’m being carried to Gabriel’s bed.
A thought creeps into my sleepy haze.I’ve never slept in a bed purchased by me.
I don’t know why it matters, but suddenly it’s filling my mind, taking over in an unwelcome way. I went from my dad’s house, to college, to Sabrina’s home, and then a short stop back at my dad’s, and now here. Gabriel’s home.
He lays me down. My thoughts must be showing on my face, because Gabriel asks what’s wrong.
I frown sleepily. “Everything in here is yours.”
He pushes hair out of my face. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can go shopping. We can get on a home goods website and order stuff right now. I’ll put your name on the deed tomorrow.”
I like how quickly he solves the problem, how willing he is to be generous. Taking his hand, I press it to my heart. “You’re so good to me.”
“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “I’m calling the title company first thing in the morning.”
My upset evaporates. Who cares if I’ve never purchased my own bed? Or much of my own anything?
My home with Sabrina burned, and I don’t know how long it will take for me to think of Gabriel’s home as my own, but it doesn’t matter.
Because I have Gabriel.
He is my home.
SESSION EIGHT
DESERT FLOWER THERAPY
“Why do you think it is you made Gabriel your home?”
I look down at my cherry red fingernails. I don’t like Dr. Ruben’s question. It’s making me think about things I don’t want to think about. “Home is the place where you can relax and be yourself. That’s what Gabriel felt like to me. He was my person.”
“That’s not what you called him,” Dr. Ruben points out. “You called him your home.”
I shrug. “He always took care of me. Comforted me. Loved me. Isn’t that what your partner is supposed to do for you?”
“All relationships are different.”
I frown at his noncommittal response. “What are you really asking?”
