Page 28 of Pure Abandon

Gabriel catches the tone in my voice and looks over at me. His eyebrows curve in. “That was completely different.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh and put my glass down on the table. “It’s very convenient that you’re available to watch a game with me that you happen to love too, but you can’t get out of work to take me to an exhibit we both know you had no interest in going to in the first place.”

Gabriel shifts his weight and places his wine glass on the table next to him. His eyes turn serious as he appraises the situation. “Why are you picking a fight?”

I hate when he does this. I voice my opinion about something and because he doesn’t want to hear about it, I’m the irrational one for bringing it up.

“I’m not picking a fight. I’m having a conversation.”

“You’re trying to argue about something when we should be spending time together.”

He’s right. I should be sitting back and playfully bantering with him about our favorite teams playing each other, but my feelings are hurt.

“Gabe, I’ve barely seen you in the last two weeks. I’m sorry if I don’t want to spend what little time we have together watching TV.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I work way too long and way too hard to do this with you right now. You want me home? I’m home. And tonight I’m sitting right here and watching the game.” His voice is harsh and unapologetic. He turns away from me, giving all his attention to the TV, completely removing me from his line of vision.

Like an insolent child, I stomp my feet and march out of the room. I slam the door to our bedroom and wait for him to follow me to argue. I tear off my clothes and put on pajamas. Climbing into to bed, I tear back the covers and sit up against the headboard with my arms crossed. I stare at the door and wait for him to come in.

But he doesn’t. I don’t even hear footsteps. Just the faint sound of the ballgame downstairs in the living room.

Looks like I’ve “cut off my nose to spite my face,” as my mother would say. I never understood that expression, but I know it’s what I just did. With too much pride to go downstairs, I turn on our TV in the bedroom and watch the game from the comfort of my pillow.

Stupid husband.

I watch the game well into the seventh inning, when my eyes grow very heavy and I slowly start to drift.

My body jerks awake. The room is dark. The TV is turned off, and Gabriel is next to me, sound asleep. I glance over at the clock. It’s just after four in the morning. Jackson didn’t wake up tonight. That’s good.

I lower my head back to the pillow to settle back to sleep when I remember what it was that startled me awake.

I had a dream.

I dreamed of him again.

We were at the museum, standing in the lobby where we were just two days ago. Instead of him disappearing, like he did that night, he held out his hand to me. I looked down at it for a mere second before placing my hand in his. He pulled me toward him, but not into his arms. Asher took my hand and led me out of the lobby and through the front entrance where a black Escalade was waiting for us on the sidewalk. I looked at the open door and when I looked inside, everything inside was black.

It’s been two weeks since my first encounter with Asher. Every morning I wonder if today is the day I will run into him again. More importantly, every day I wonder if today will be the day he will return one of my messages.

I’ve sent every invoice and production idea up to Asher’s office and have yet to hear from him. I’ve been moving forward with the preliminary work, but without his final approval, I can’t confirm anything. I asked Malory about it this morning and she told me to wait on Asher.

I feel like I’m in limbo. This event is only two months away and I can’t get anything done. If he doesn’t answer me by the end of the week, I’m going to move forward with my plans.

Malory also informed me this morning I need to buy a dress for the gala. I assumed I’d be wearing something professional like a suit since I’ll be working. She said I need to dress in formal attire and looked at me like I had three heads due to the fact I didn’t know this. So now I also have to add “find an evening gown” to the list.

Malory and I step off the elevator and I see those goddamn white roses again.

Yes, they’re still alive.

And they’re not just alive; they’re flourishing.

Every time I see them, I swear they’re getting bigger. I think my mind is playing tricks on me. It’s quite possible it is.

As annoyed as I am to see the roses, I can’t stop myself from smelling them. That heavenly scent of rose mixed with the vanilla accent has become part of my morning ritual.

Looking beyond the flowers, I notice a mound of red hair piled on the desk, buried under porcelain hands.

“Is everything okay?” I say, swinging around the partition to see the usually bubbly and exuberant Trish looking upset.