The thought rocks me. It makes my knees weak as I crawl into bed, my head spinning. There’s a part of me that would sacrifice if it meant that I had Gabriel again, but just as quickly, I’m reminded that he’s not here.
It’s bad enough he got in a confrontation with my father. He knows that I would have wanted him to walk away. He knows I can’t have any distractions at my tournaments.
Worse than any of that, though, is the fact that he’s not here now.
He was so quick to leave. At first, I thought that was what I wanted, too. He can’t come to the tournament anyway, and I need to regain my focus. But lying in bed that night, I felt nothing but emptiness in my chest, pain where the warm feelings used to be.
I grab my phone and put on one of Gabriel’s old songs, needing to at least hear his voice. The music is torn through with sadness and anger, and as I let the sounds wash over me, I remember how much he’s been through, too.
Tears stream down my face as I think about everything that’s happened. I mourn Gabriel’s heartbreak, the loss of my relationship with my father, all the years my husband and I spent alone.
But I won’t mourn this relationship. I won’t mourn the loss of Gabriel. The chaotic guitar chords crashing through the hotel room, I know that he’s back in Seattle, torturing himself with the same pain. That all he’s known is abandonment and betrayal, just like I’ve only known secrecy and denial.
That can’t be our story. I won’t let it be who we are.
I need the man I love, and with the sun setting out the window, I realize that he needs me just as much.
Before I can doubt myself, I silence the song on my phone, pull up my contacts, and press his name with a shaky hand. It barely rings before he answers.
“Spencer.”
“Gabriel.”
“I’m so glad you called.”
Just the sound of his voice is enough to ease the pain. My tension uncoils, and my heart reaches across the ocean for him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Are you?”
“Not really. I’m so sorry,” he says. “It’s my fault. I should have walked away from your dad. I should have never let that happen.”
“I agree, but that’s not what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I need you, Gabriel. Not in Seattle. Not away from the tournament. I need you here. With me.”
“Spencer,” he says with a raspy voice. “Do you mean that?”
I swallow, barely holding it together. “I do. Can you catch a flight back to Paris?”
“Yes. I mean, not exactly.” He swallows audibly. “I’m already here.”
I sit straight up. “You’re here?”
“I went back to Seattle. But then I realized I need you, and you might need me, too. I didn’t want to upset your game, but I thought if I were here, at least then I could…” He trails off. “Are you at your hotel?”
Pure relief and joy surge through me. He’s here. He came back to me.
“I’m at the hotel,” I manage.
“Good. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
GABRIEL
Spencer opensthe door to his hotel room, and my breath disappears.
I didn’t know if he would see me again. I was fully prepared to wait until the tournament ended before I tried to reach out. It was hell to be in the same city without even calling him, but not nearly as painful as it was to be an entire ocean away.
