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“I have to check, but I know that I have to call my doctor,” I remind him, “and get an appointment.”
“Okay, why don’t you go do that”—he leans into the phone—“and I’ll go take inventory.”
“I’m going to have to take a nap,” I tell him, “and then I’ll do all the things.”
“Okay, Sweetheart, call me when you wake up.”
“I will,” I mumble.
“And when I say call me when you wake up, it’s not after you get up and go to the bathroom and get a snack.” He doesn’t hang up, and I roll my eyes at him. “It’s like when you open your eyes.”
“You’re annoying,” I point out. “Were you this annoying when we met?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “I don’t think so, or else I would have never slept with you.”
“Sweetheart,” he coos softly, “the only thing I was thinking about the day we met was trying to make sure I got your number before you left.” He taps the desk. “Which I didn’t do.”
“Well, we slept together instead,” I remind him, “so you got very lucky.”
“Luckier if you would still be here,” he mumbles. “Go nap and tell my girl I miss her.”
“Or boy,” I constantly have to tell him. “It’s going to be a boy at this point.”
“Nah, I feel it in my bones.” He smiles. “A girl as beautiful as her momma.”
“Or a boy as handsome as his dad.” I smile, thinking about our son. “You guys can have matching cowboy hats.”
“Yeah, we can…” He trails off. “Go sleep.”
“Okay, Cowboy.” I bring the phone to my lips, giving him a kiss. “I’ll call you the minute my eyes open.”
“Thank you,” he says and hangs up the phone, putting it on the pillow he usually uses. I get up and take off my sweater and pants, going to grab something to wear when I remember I stole two of his T-shirts. I open my bag, pulling out the white T-shirt he wore this morning when he got out of bed to drive Colson to school. The minute he got back, he joined me in bed and the T-shirt was tossed to the side on top of the clothes, so I snuck it in my bag when I was packing. I take it out and smell him as I put it on and walk back to bed, sliding under the covers and smelling him all around me.
My thirty-minute nap ends up being two hours long, and when I open my eyes, I’m sad when I remember that I’m home and I’m home alone. I get up calling Gabriel, who is in the middle of his shift at the bar. We speak for five minutes as I get my sneakers on and head out to grab myself something to eat and get fresh air. The minute I walk down the steps and to the corner, it dawns on me that everything I used to love about the city, I now don’t. I don’t like the crowd of people on every corner. I don’t like the honking every second. I don’t like the number of sirens that just blare in the distance. I look up at the sky, not seeing one fucking star.
This is your home, I remind myself. What are you going to do? Move to him? You can’t just uproot your life and move to him, then what? I don’t move from the corner, even when the light turns green and then red again. I turn, walking back home and calling Gabriel, who answers after two rings, and I see he’s now in his office. “How is this going to work?” I ask him, and he just stares at me.
“I have no idea,” he answers me, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t want to spend too much time thinking about it, or else it’ll make me sick.”
“We have to figure it out, I guess,” I mumble. “Like, are we dating? Are we a couple?”
“Of course we’re a couple.” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, we were a couple the minute I kissed your lips.”
“Yes, but I live here, and you live there.” I tell him something he already knows.
“You can come here. I can come there,” he replies, and I want to ask him and then what, but I don’t. “I’ll be up this weekend, and we can see how your schedule is.”
“Fine,” I concede. “I’m going to go and get something to eat. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I’m about to hang up when he says, “We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart.”
28
GABRIEL
I grab my phone and tuck it in my back pocket before slamming the truck door closed and walking to the glass door, pulling it open. Looking around, I see no one out front, so I knock on the white door. It looks like a regular door, but it’s a stainless-steel door that you can’t get through. The buzzing sound starts, and I pull open the door to step into my father and my Uncle Casey’s bullpen, as they like to call it.
“Hey,” I say, spotting my father and Casey but also my grandfather, Jacob. When I catch all three of them, I stop. “Am I in trouble?” I ask nervously, seeing all three of them sitting around one desk.
My father leans back in his chair, just smirking at me. “I love that even though you are a grown-ass man, you still are scared of your dad.”
