“Where are the kids?”
“Gray sleeps in. Asha is eating her breakfast in the living room,” Gable says. “She’s getting too obsessed with her iPad, though. I need to restrict her time on it. I worry about the things she might stumble across.”
This is conversation, so I leap on it. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Ella used to steal my case filesall the time.”
“And look how she turned out.”
“True, she married you.”
For fuck’s sake, Guy.
I pause the coffee cup at my lips, and Gable turns to glare at me. “You know, I’m a good fucking husband.”
I sigh, guilt swarming me. “I know.”
“And a great dad.”
“I know that.”
“Then quit giving me a hard fucking time every two minutes. If I’d known I was going to marry Ella, I’d have taken a different path, but I didn’t. In fact, if I hadn’t been as fucked up as I am, I’d never have met her and we wouldn’t have them.” He points at the living room doorway. “I know I’m not up for son-in-law of the year, but I love your daughter, and I would do fucking anything for those kids, so back off.”
Silence falls as he washes a plate aggressively, almost smashing it when he returns it to the cabinet. He continues with breakfast, and I struggle with what to say.
I know why I’m on his back. It’s the cop in me. He’s a criminal, everything wrong with the world, and he married my fucking kid. He’s the last man I ever wanted Ella to be with, but at the end of the day, she chose him. She loves him. And he’s right. From what little I see, he’s a great husband and father, and Ella has never even suggested otherwise. While she writes, he’s been a stay-at-home dad—and clearly a good one, because the kids are well adjusted and happy.
But before I can broach an apology and an explanation, Ella appears.
She’s in pink pajamas and hugs Gable’s side. “Morning, Gibson,” he says, kissing her head.
“Morning.” She yawns. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, baby,” I say, sipping my coffee, cowering away from apologizing in front of her because then I’d have to explain what we were arguing about.
She climbs onto the stool beside mine. “What are we eating?”
Gable keeps his back to us. “You two aren’t eating here. I reserved a table for you both at a café in town so you can spend some one-on-one time together.”
Of course he did. As if I don’t feel bad enough.
“Really?” Ella squeals and hops off her stool again to hug him. She smothers his face with kisses, and he wrinkles his nose. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“I’m well aware,” he says, throwing me a pointed look. “Go get dressed, you’ve got an hour to be there.”
An hour later,Ella and I are at the café, and it’s like old times. She talks about her books, what she’s thinking of writing next, and runs some ideas by me, including some police procedures to make sure she’s accurate.
I’m drinking it all in. We’ve rented the cabin for a month, but it’ll fly by, so I want to remember every single second.
“So.” Ella pierces a sliced strawberry with her fork. “What were you and Gable fighting about?”
I try to look innocent. “When were we fighting?”
“Please, I know my husband, and I know you. There was more tension than usual.”
This girl should’ve been a cop. Ugh, my life would’ve been so much easier if she had. She’d have arrested Gable and not married him.
“I was being hard on him,” I admit. “It’s like a reflex at this point.”
She sighs. “Dad.”
