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It’s… holy shit.
I blink a few times.
“Gabriel? I mean—Mr. Wright?”
He stares down at me. Robert might be handsome, might have eyes I could sink into, but Gabriel’s gaze is piercing. Magnetic. And there’s something there—some note of… something. I can’t quite sort out what.
“Just Gabriel. Good to see you. What a coincidence, meeting you here.”
My mind goes blank with shock. My mouth stumbles to form words, but nothing comes out.
Because it might have been a coincidence that we ran into each other when I was coming out of the alley that day—I was stalking him, after all. And it might have even been a coincidence that he walked into my practice.
But this is one coincidence too many.
And yet, oddly, I’m not frightened. Not even creeped out. In fact, I’m—shit. I’m a little turned on. His scruff is heavier than usual, his eyes a deeper shade of brown, too. The latter is probably helped by the dark-colored button-up he has on. If Robert made me flush, Gabriel has my breath coming in a nervous pant. And my armpits have gone damp. I cross my legs, because God, I better not be damp there, too…
He’s watching me, a slight frown pulling at his bottom lip. “You okay?” he asks.
I realize I haven’t said anything this whole time.
“Oh, just… surprised, I guess.”
He leans closer and his scent hits me, masculine and spicy, and I want more than anything to reach up, to grab his shirt, and yank him closer. But I can’t. Ever. It occurs to me that I had Sarah call him. Had her tell him he needed to seek help elsewhere. That maybe this is what’s on his mind as he nudges out Robert’s chair and sits down beside me—so close our knees touch as he makes himself comfortable.
“I live two blocks over. Sunny’s is one of my favorite bars.” He smiles, that nice, confident smile.
“Oh, really?” Again, I’m short of words. My head spins. It is close to his place. Which, of course, I suppose I knew when I suggested it to Robert. Not that I was thinking that, but what if… Shoot, what if this wasn’t a coincidence, but not because Gabriel was following me but because I picked a place close to him? A wine place, no less, and I’ve witnessed—from following him around often enough—that he likes wine. Maybe it was me who unwittingly set us up for this moment.
And I can’t lie, I’m not upset about it.
He nods. “Yep. Less than a five-minute walk. You live around here?”
“Not really. It’s my first time here,” I add, as though that explains it away. “I’m—” I’m about to say on a date, but Robert appears at that moment, hesitant, looking back and forth between us as though trying to judge the situation.
“This is Robert.” I beckon to him. “Robert, this is…” I hesitate, not sure where to draw the line. Technically, Gabriel is a patient. I can’t acknowledge that publicly, though. It would be a breach of privacy. “Gabriel,” I finish. I don’t explain how I know him, and from Robert’s expression—bordering on contemptuous; maybe he does have a dark side—he clearly suspects Gabriel is another dating-app discovery. My vagueness isn’t helping.
“Nice to meet you.” He offers a perfunctory nod. “Mind if I grab my seat back?”
Gabriel hasn’t said a word, and I look from Robert to him to find his face lacking an expression entirely. Something I’ve never witnessed, and I’ve had a fair amount of experience watching Gabriel by now.
“Of course.” Gabriel stands stiffly, looking at me one last time. “I’ll see you soon.” He casts a last look at Robert as if to check for a reaction to that comment.
But Robert just meets his gaze with a tight smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
Gabriel takes a step away, then spins on his heel. “Oh, Meredith—” I try to ignore the rush I feel at the sound of my first name on his tongue. I don’t think he’s ever said it before. “Your office called twice. I didn’t get back to them yet. Is everything all right?”
“Oh, I’m… I’m not sure. Probably an insurance thing. No big deal.”
He studies me, nods slowly. “Okay. Good night.”
Robert reclaims his seat. Whatever uneasiness I thought I saw on his face a few minutes ago is gone now. I’m sure Gabriel’s mention of my office, and his subsequent inference that our relationship is one of a doctor-patient type, has gone a long way toward smoothing the worry lines that were etched into his forehead. He smiles and launches into his own Girl Scout cookie preference—Trefoils, whatever the hell those are—and I try to focus on him. On those dark eyebrows and the warm eyes that minutes ago had drawn me in and kept my attention. But my focus is entirely on Gabriel, who now sits at a pub table at the other end of the bar with his back to me. Whenever Robert looks away, I steal glances. When he asks the server for a menu, I stare. And when Gabriel looks over his shoulder, meeting my eyes, I know I won’t be able to do this for the rest of the night. Not with him sitting there.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Robert just as he’s about to order an appetizer. “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Would you mind if we continue this another evening?” I summon a smile. “I really have had a wonderful time. I’m just—I feel a headache coming on, and I get migraines. Sometimes wine does that to me. I shouldn’t have had that last glass.”
He tilts his head, studying me with concern. “Of course, Meredith. Let me pay, and I’ll get you a cab.”
We do the end-of-date stuff, wrapping up the conversation, promising to text or call soon, and Robert raises a hand to hail a cab as we step out into the cool evening.
