When she finally calms down, she hugs the plushie against her chest, looks at me, and says soft as air:
“This is… actually perfect.”
I think I just felt the arrow go through my heart.
She's smiling. I actually made her happy.
-??-
Chapter 16
Gabrielle’s POV
The seagull present that Lincoln gave me was so cute.
The plan was to go to bed, but I don’t want this to end. So we both sit down to watch more shows and laugh and just enjoy each other.
An hour later, I start to feel nervous. It’s that same nervousness I felt a long time ago when I realized I had a crush on him whenever he was near. That same nervousness that persisted even after we started dating and then got married.
Lincoln could always make me feel as though I was falling in love with him every single time I saw him. But now it’s all tainted by the infidelity and what he put me through two years ago. Still, the more I stay around him, funny enough and annoyingly enough, the more that feeling starts to ebb. The feeling I keep at the forefront of my mind, that I care about him and still love him and am still very attracted to him.
And he obviously still cares about me. I can see it in the way he looks at me. But how much of it is him trying to get in my pants and in my good graces?
How much of it is him trying to redeem himself because the heat from being extricated from my love is too much?
He has Sarah now.
I pick up Morris. The cat purrs. “Merry Christmas, Morris.
You’re such agoodkitty. And you are one of thebestChristmas gifts I’ve gotten in a while.”
Lincoln chuckles and says to me from across the living room, “You seem to forget that’s my cat.”
A laugh leaks out of me. “I’m the one taking care of him the most, so he’s my cat. He’s my baby.
No sense in fighting it. It’s gonna happen whether you like it or not, so get used to it.”
He walks slowly up to me in that easygoing, confident way he does, stopping in front of me. Lincoln looks down at me and smiles and says, “How about he’d be both of our cat?”
I find myself smiling.
Uh-oh.
This is not good. Whatever’s going on here, with us looking at each other this way, it’s making me feel uncomfortable… or too comfortable. That’s the problem.
Breaking myself out of the trance, I pipe up, “Alright, I’m really gonna go to bed this time.
It’s late,” I say to Lincoln.
Lincoln looks at the clock. “It’s only 11:45. Already?” he asks.
I don’t want to go to bed, to be honest, but things are getting a little too close for comfort. “Yeah,” I say.
My hands rise to reach toward my hair, which is in a bun. I redo it into a fresher bun. Then I change my mind and do a low bun, more loose. Lincoln’s just smiling at me, like he’s holding on to a secret he doesn’t want to share.
“Something funny?” I ask, smiling again at him.
Breaking himself out of his own trance, he seems to shake his head, a smile still planted on his face.
