“And if all we ever make together is art,” he finishes with a small shrug, “that would still be enough for me.”
“Then I guess we should make something worth remembering.”
Paolo dropsme off at the hotel on his vespa, despite me telling him I’d be fine walking back on my own, after giving me a complete tour of his studio. I try to sneak into my room withoutGabriel hearing, but of course I can’t find my key card fast enough and his door swings open.
He steps out wearing a tight black T-shirt that hugs his sculpted torso, and sweatpants—my kryptonite.
“I thought you were in your room this whole time,” he says, a line forming between his furrowed brows. “Where were you?”
“With Paolo,” I reply.
His brows furrow further as he stares at me, eyes jumping between mine.
“You walked out of my car after we just picked out our home, and took a cab to go see another guy?” I can hear the hurt in his voice.
“I went to go see Paolo, not some random guy,” I say, monotonously. “And relax, he was just showing me the art studio that we’ll be working in together.”
He scoffs. “Oh, the private studio he mentioned?” I can see him vibrating from anger, and knowing Gabriel, he’s getting too into his head, running through every possible scenario.
“Nothing happened,” I say firmly, finally retrieving my key card from my purse. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”
“Wait,” he says, holding a folder out to me. “I’ll leave the adjoining door unlocked. You can slide it through, or bring it in when you’re done.”
“What is it?” I ask, taking it carefully.
“The purchase agreement for the apartment,” he replies. “I want you listed as the sole legal owner.”
I frown, glancing down at the folder before looking back at him. “But I’m not paying for any of it—you are. Why would I own it?”
He shrugs. “Consider it an early birthday present.”
I hesitate, then nod slowly. “Okay…I’ll bring it over once I’ve signed everything.”
He clears his throat, suddenly more tentative. “And…If you want to sleep next to me too, or just leave the door cracked open, I’m fine with that.”
I roll my eyes, though a small smile creeps onto my lips. “Good night, Gabriel.”
“Good night, Zalea,” he replies, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth. He turns toward his door, then pauses. “But just so we’re clear, wewillbe continuing that conversation from the car soon.”
Before I can answer, he steps inside and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone in the hallway with my stomach twisting, feeling like I’m slowly sinking into the carpet.
“I’m so mad at you,”Zale says the second he answers my video call, anger and worry mixing across his face. “I’ve been calling you for three weeks, Z.”
“I know, I know,” I lift my hands in surrender. “I just needed time to figure some things out. I’m sorry I made you worry.”
He sits upright in his bed, eyes searching mine. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? Why did you bail on the Hawaii qualifiers?”
I consider telling him about the diagnoses that sent me spiralling, but I’ve barely processed it myself. I’m not ready to unpack it with anyone else.
“I’ve decided to quit surfing,” I say, steadying my voice. “Indefinitely.”
He blinks, then drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, can you say that again? I thought I just heard you say you’re quitting the career you’ve worked for your entire life.”
I give him a small, tight smile. “It’s not for me anymore, Zale. I’m not happy doing it.”
Silence stretches between us.
“So what’s your plan then?”
