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This man.
This man.
He holds up the bottle. “More wine?”
“If I do that, I’m liable to end up knocked out. The hot bath and wine have me really relaxed. That might not make me much of an interesting guest.”
“We have many nights together.” He crosses the room, and grabs my glass by the tub, carries it to the sink and fills it before setting the bottle aside and handing me the glass. “Drink the wine. I’d like nothing more than to know that you feel relaxed and safe enough to fall asleep.”
Safe.
There’s that word. A word I haven’t used to describe my life in years. A word I shouldn’t use now, but Gabe does make me feel safe. That’s the selfish part of me that just wants to believe he can make the world better. Actually, he does make the world better, which is why I have to ensure I don’t ruin his.
I accept the glass. “Thank you.”
He links our fingers together and walks me backward. “Are you hungry?”
“Actually, yes. I am.”
“Pizza in bed while watching TV?”
I smile. “Yes. I’d like that.” Actually, I love this idea. I love that we will just spend time together, with the rest of the world locked out.
He settles me on the edge of the bed and joins me while Dexter sleeps in the corner on his own bed. “The new bed came,” I say, noting this new addition to the room.
“It did and I’d say Dexter approves.”
“Yes,” I say. “I would as well.”
A few minutes later, we’ve ordered pizza, picked a movie, and Gabe heads into the bathroom for a quick shower before the pizza arrives. I’m lounging in the bedroom, and as much as I don’t want to check on the situation I’ve set in motion, I know I have to do it. I grab my phone from the nightstand where Gabe plugged it up for me a few minutes ago and check my email. And there, is the message I was waiting for. I open it and read an email that is two sentences:You made the right decision by contacting me. Your ex-husband is now my problem, not yours.
I breathe out, feeling stabs of guilt. It’s done. I can’t turn back.
Gabe’s voice lifts from the bathroom as he sings what I believe to be a Kane Brown song. I stand up and walk to the bathroom. Yes. Kane Brown. The song isWhat Ifs. I pick up random lines from the song.What if I hurt you? What if I find someone else? What if I was made for you?What if Gabe is made for me?
He opens the shower door and leans out, all sinewy muscle that is dewy, wet, and delicious. “Want to join me?”
Yes. Oh yes, I do.
I want to join him.
I want to get lost in him.
I want to stay with him.
Morning comes with Gabe wrapped around me and Dexter lying at the side of the bed beside me. It’s not my life and yet, it is. I just lay there, soaking in the feeling of this man holding me, and it’s perfection. So was the shower and pizza and watching Bird Box with Gabe.
He nuzzles my neck and in a blink, we’re kissing and touching and he’s inside me. God, this man is everything. So tender. So demanding. So rough and somehow gentle at the same time. It makes no sense, and yet when I’m finally dressing in a light bluesuit dress to go to the office with him, those are all words I use to describe this man.
Perfect is the word that comes to me as I stand at the island with him, sipping coffee and talking about the news, and how much we both hate the way politics is consuming the messaging around the clock. We click. We work. What if we really do work? I think we do.
“I’m still not a hundred percent on going to the office with you,” I say, as we leave Dexter with a dog walker lined up for a few hours later.
Gabe locks his apartment door, looking pretty darn perfect in a three-piece navy suit that is clearly custom fit to his muscular body that I can now, after exploring as much of it as possible last night and this morning, say is about as perfect as a body can come. “You’re just going to get a feel for the place as a consulting attorney.”
“I’m not taking a consulting job. Not yet.”
His sexy, so very sexy lips, quirk. “Okay.”
