Then it hits me; I want her. Not just in the general sense, though I do want her in that way. But I want herhere, at my side, in my arms. I don’t want to be apart from her, not even for a moment.
I take my eyes from the city before me, casting a glance at the stairs Gabriella ascended only moments ago. She’s up there right now. I could go see her. But I know that’s not what she wants.
No doubt she’s scared. What she’s been through is too much to ask of anyone, let alone a woman pregnant with twins.
A strange feeling begins to creep through me, a vague, queasy anxiety that settles like hot lead in the pit of my stomach.
Fear.
Fear that I’ll lose her. Fear that I can’t protect her. Fear that no matter what I do to keep her safe, it won’t be enough.
I have to prove to her that I can be the man she needs.
I must.
Or I risk losing her for good.
If I already haven’t.
CHAPTER 37
GABBY
“Thirty minutes. I promise.”
I throw the words over my shoulder as I step out of the back of the sedan. Bogdan grunts in reply.
The late-winter chill whips around me as I emerge into Wicker Park. Instinctively, I pull my coat tighter around me as I look around. Storefronts glow under string lights—tattoo parlors, vinyl shops, the café where Angie and I had a brunch ritual every Sunday during our first year at AngelCorp.
I glance over my shoulder at Bogdan’s SUV, a big hulking black shadow that’s totally out of place among the tiny electric cars and fixed-gear bikes. I flash him a casual wave through the tinted windows, all nonchalant, like I’m actually there to help Angie move, like I’d told him.
That would be a lie, unfortunately.
The passenger-side window slides down. “Don’t be too long. Call me if you need help.”
“Will do.”
He nods before sliding the window back up.
I hurry to the front door of Angie’s place, hitting the buzzer. The door unlocks with the slow clackity groan I’ve heard so many times before. I enter, climbing the narrow, creaky stairs and heading all the way up to the top floor. Around halfway through the second flight of stairs, I find myself stopping to catch my breath.
“Yo! No on-the-clock breaks!” I glance up to see Angie’s smiling face staring down at me from the third floor.
“These stairs aren’t so easy when there’s two tiny humans inside you.”
“Toughen up, preggers. And hurry!”
I catch my breath, then make my way up to the top floor. The door’s already open, and I step through. Angie’s blonde hair is in a messy bun, her outfit a U of C sweatshirt and navy blue Athleta leggings.
The place is mostly bare, with only a few boxes here and there, but Angie’s already all but moved out.
That’s not what Bogdan thinks, however. The story I gave him is that Angie needed a little help packing her last few boxes.
“You know,” she says, standing up and dusting off her hands. “I’m starting to think your penthouse elevator is making you soft.”
“Says the girl who nowalsohas a penthouse elevator.” I amble in with my pregnant-lady waddle.
“Well, yeah. But Johan’s just goes up to the top floor. It’s not, like,right into the apartmentlike Sasha’s.”
