“Tell me about it.”
She squeezes my shoulder, grounding me with the simple gesture. “I watched Gabriel navigate his divorce ten years ago, and it was tough. But I can say with confidence that you’ll be better on the other side even if you don’t feel that way now. Have you started dating again?”
I shake my head. “No. Not really.” I take another gulp of themargarita, feeling it blaze a trail of liquid courage straight to my soul. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s Rhiannon’s therapist vibes—calm, attentive, disarming—but it feels like I’ve got truth serum coursing through my veins. “I can’t get past the whole distrusting every male thing. Feels like they’re all bound to disappoint me. My dad left when I was a kid. My grandpa left my grandma when my mom was young. Generations of disappointment have pretty much cemented the pattern in our DNA.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to be the girl who can’t even date because she’s busy scanning for red flags and excuses when maybe there aren’t any to be found.”
“Having your guard up isn’t a bad thing. It means you’re paying attention. But even with the most carefully constructed walls, people can still disappoint you. That’s not a reflection of you, though. It’s on them. All you can do is move forward with the knowledge you have and the information they share with you. Don’t blame yourself for someone lying to you, and concealing parts of them that they withheld.”
I nod because she’s totally right. I take another large gulp. “Why is your family so easy to talk to? You, Natasha and Gabriel have all given me the best advice. Advice I could have used like five years ago.”
She snorts. “Gabriels’ given you advice?”
I don’t get a chance to explain because Cain’s appearing in the doorway, Piper now on his back like a very determined backpack and introduces himself with the easy warmth of a man who genuinely likes people. He's got kind eyes and looks at Rhiannon with nothing but adoration. I see why Natasha called him one of the good ones.
"Pizza's here in ten," he tells Rhiannon, kissing the side of her head. "Your brother just got here too."
I take a long sip of my margarita. And decide to hold off on explaining that I’ve met her brother twice now. She must notice because she moves ahead without questioning me further when Cain walks away.
“I’m a therapist,” she says like it’s an explanation. It is.
“A sex therapist, to be specific,” Gabriel says, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the air around him. He throws an arm over Rhiannon’s shoulders and squeezes her affectionately. Andwhoa.His scent hits me first—something dark, musky, and absolutely illegal for my sanity. And has he grown taller since earlier?
His dark brown hair, almost black, looks freshly washed, and his brown eyes latch onto mine with an intensity that feels like a direct hit on those walls I keep talking about. He’s not hiding the fact that he’s checking me out, another thing that I appreciate about him. Gabriel doesn’t seem to like to play games. He’s swapped his long-sleeved shirt for a fitted, black V-neck that hugs his chest and showcases biceps that should come with a warning label. His feet are planted firmly apart, making space for that big cock I gripped a few weeks ago. I can’t help but stare at him. I think I may have drank that margarita too fast.
I drag my gaze back up, only to realize no one’s said anything and I’ve been caught staring. Gabriel smirks, the corner of his mouth ticking up just enough to make my pulse trip over itself. Rhiannon notices too, her smile curling with mischief.
“Alessia,” he says simply with a polite nod.
“Gabriel,” I say back, hoping I’m not making this all super awkward.
Finally, the words he shared register in my mind.
A sex therapist?Maybe she can help with my aversion towards men. Or maybe it’s just taking one look at her brother to do that for me because the attraction is definitely there and the distaste, revulsion, abhorrence is nowhere to be found.
"Right," she says, clapping her hands once. "Pizza first, then games. Gabe, can you grab the plates?" She steers the conversation forward with the practiced ease of a woman who runs a household and apparently also untangles people's complicated inner lives for a living. She shrugs out from under Gabriel’s grip, grabs my mysteriously empty glass—seriously, how did that happen?—and refills it without missing a beat. Then she presses it back into my hand with a wink and a whisper. “Tonight’s going to be fun.”
Gabriel moves to the cabinet to get the plates. I try to force myself to look elsewhere and fail miserably.
Somehow, this still feels like just what I needed. More margaritas and a front row seat to stare at my new, extremely hot neighbor all night. I wonder if he’d be willing to give that whole no strings attached hook-up one more shot.
Chapter 12: Gabriel
The pizza arrives and our group migrates to the living room, which Cain has already set up for games, a stack of boxes on the coffee table with the architectural ambition of someone who intends to get through all of them. He does this every time. I’m not sure when he’ll learn that his wife’s games are never board games.
Piper has been put to bed with impressive efficiency by both her parents working in total wordless sync, and it makes me smile seeing the way Rhiannon and Cain have become such amazing parents. Now it's just the seven of us with two pizzas, a pitcher of margaritas, and apparently an extremely competitive game of Twister that’s about to kick-off.
My sister claps her hands together, her grin devilish. “The first game tonight is Twister, but it’s not your normal game of Twister because it has atwist.”?
Of course it does.
I glance around her cozy, eclectic living room, noting the familiar faces gathered for one of her infamous game nights. Her husband Cain lounges on the couch, looking like he’s foundnirvana after putting their daughter Piper to bed. My youngest sister Eden is nestled next to her boyfriend, a guy who I don’t dislike, but still don’t see them being end-game, and my cousin Natasha lounges with a drink in hand.
And then there’s Alessia—adorable as ever in tight black jeans and a purple long-sleeved tee, her dark brown hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks relaxed for the first time since that night she mistook me for Roman and kissed me like she was looking for her last breath inside my mouth, but there’s still a flicker of guardedness in her eyes. That same defense she seems to always have up around strangers.
“Okay, so the twist is… well, I’m not playing.” Rhiannon gestures to her pronounced baby bump with mock exasperation. “But I’ll spin the board and ask trivia questions. If you get the question right, you stay put. If you get it wrong, you move to the color the pointer landed on with the body part. It’s simple.”
