“I do care. About a lot of things. Including my career.” Gabriel’s voice is soft and vulnerable, and my heart is seriously going to impale itself on my rib cage it feels so big now.
I put my sangria down beside the chair and grab his hips, pulling him toward me. “Come here.”
I jostle him until he is on my thighs, straddling my lap, facing me. He delves his fingers into my hair, raking them from temples to the back of my head and then he dips his head until our foreheads touch. “I’m going to demand strategy meetings. In person. I’m going to hold them accountable for everything. I’m out there giving this my all and I should get the same back. And then, when I start earning points, and my reputation gets cleared from this woman’s lies, and other teams dare to notice me… I’m going to sign with someone else. Fuck Mayflower.”
I smile. “Fuck Mayflower.”
Gabe kisses me, and I kiss him back for so long that the colors in the sky fade to gray and the solar-powered deck lights flicker on. Gabriel holds the back of my neck and I feel the cool hard metal of his commitment ring. "No matter how the season goes, or what happens with the accusations or Mayflower, I'm one proud husband. You know that, right?"
Gabriel bites his bottom lip and looks away, but I catch a glimpse of the smile on his face before he does. “Shush now, or I’ll make you wear the butt plug the entire day tomorrow. On Vibrate.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I laugh. “By the way, your phone got a text earlier. You left it by the bed.”
He nods. “Who was it?”
“Damien.”
“Ahmerde. I should answer him.” Gabriel sighs and walks into our bedroom.
I stretch out on the lounger. It’s dark but the air is still warm and carries that heavy scent of salt that has always created a light feeling inside me when I inhale it, even on my heaviest days. Today, despite the emotional minefields that could have gone off, has been a really good day. Gabriel isn’t like anyone I’ve ever dated. He’s so forthright about his wants and needs. He doesn’t play games or gaslight or make me responsible for his emotions. It’s… terrifyingly unfamiliar. Everyone, from my sister to Billy, has told me I settle for too little when I date. Eric drove that point home in spades. And I walked into this attempt to rebuild my life with the mantra that I would ‘hold out for more’ but deep down I wasn’t actually sure if more existed. And worse still, I was worried that it just didn’t exist for me. After all, there had to be a reason that men repeatedly treated me like garbage, right?
But as I lie here on this plush lounger, floating on the Aegean sea, my ass sore and my heart full, I realize that it does exist —that something more—and not every man will treat me like garbage. I realize I have everything I wasn’t sure was real, in this fake relationship. And it’s time I take the leap that Gabe’s taking. It’s time I tell him what I really want and how I really feel. I think… I’m actually kind of sure that he will want it to. That he wants me. Us. For real.
I pull myself off the lounger and turn to the bedroom to make this real, officially. But he's standing there, his phone dangling from his hand. His eyes sharp and serious. Even in the moonlight, I can see the tan tone his skin has taken on during this trip has suddenly faded. He’s pale.
“What?”
“There’s been a development. With the case,” Gabriel says, his voice flat but uneven. "We have a meeting in Paris the day after tomorrow."
Oh shit.
27GABRIEL
Eminem lyrics about sweaty palms,vomit, and spaghetti rumble about in my head, distracting me from the sights of Paris that roll by outside the window. The bustling cafes, the breathtaking architecture, the Eiffel Tower. Axel sits on the seat next to me. Our hands are laced together, the back of mine against the supple black leather of the seat.
We haven't talked much about what may or may not come from this meeting. It's the first sit-down with the opposing counsel and it wasn't supposed to happen until the season was over. All Damien will say is that it was his decision to move it up, and he assures they've got this in the bag so no sense dragging it out. Dad isn't saying anything and I'll be damned if I'm going to be the first one to text. I did nothing wrong. I wasn't even harsh. I was honest. Still, there is a small, hard stone of guilt in my gut that I refuse to acknowledge.
The trip from Greece to Paris was seamless. We landed at Charles de Gaulle last night around seven and I took Axel back to my apartment in the Marais and we ordered take-out, watched Netflix, and had sex on my couch. And then in my bed. He’s quiet, but I don’t need him to fill me up with a bunch of words that mean nothing. I just need him here, with me. And he is. Despite the orders.
He turned to me this morning, while I was shaving and he was getting dressed and held up his phone. "Damien just sent me an email. I have the day off. With pay, he says."
“His way of making sure you don’t come to the meeting,” I tell him. I’m not an idiot. I know it’s not appropriate to bring my boyfriend to a legal proceeding like he’s an emotional support animal, but he kind of is. And that’s why I did ask him to come, for the ride there, and to hang out in the area and meet me right after. And he agreed. Before the email.
“You don’t have to come now.”
“Why? Because you don’t need me?” Axel asks.
Because you’re not being paid to be there,I thought but didn't say. It's so unlike me to filter my words that I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. Until Axel walks up behind me and wraps one of his muscular arms around my shoulders, pinning my back to his front. Our eyes meet in the bronze-framed mirror over my antique vanity. "Because I wasn't going for the paycheck, Gabe."
“I still want you there.”
He nods, kisses my cheek, and walks back into the bedroom to get dressed. And now he’s getting out of the Uber with me, stepping into the muggy Paris fall air and smiling down at me. “Text at any point. For any reason. I won’t be far.”
“Where are you going?”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “We’re near Champs Elysees,” he says, his Australian accent positively butchering the iconic street name. “I won some cash at a casino a couple weeks ago so I might treat myself. Or just window shop because frivolous purchases make me nauseous.”
I laugh and lean in and kiss him chastely. When we part he starts down the street and I walk into the building where my father, his lawyer, and my fate awaits.
