Page 12 of Miss Manage

Chapter Six

GABRIEL

Unpacking was a giant pain in the ass. Sure, I could’ve had the same movers who’d hauled my stuff out of storage when I returned from London handle the unpacking, but then I’d never know where anything was.

My new condo was on the top floor of a building in Mission Bay. It boasted two bedrooms and was all clean lines and glass, the kind of modern minimalism which looked better in a magazine than it felt in real life. The balcony stretched wide, overlooking the bay. Out there, sunlight bounced off the water and reminded me how beautiful San Diego was.

It should’ve felt like a fresh start. Instead, it felt…unsettled.

Maybe it was because everything in my professional and personal life was.

Of course, my mother refused to let me tackle the unpacking alone. The smell of her lasagna baking in the oven filled the space, warm and comforting. The aroma made the bare walls and still-half-empty rooms feel homey. Meanwhile, she moved around my kitchen with practiced efficiency, organizing my drawers and unloading my dishes.

“You need more dish towels and oven mitts, not to mention a hall table near the door. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Her hands went to her hips, and she gave me a look that could make any man, especially her three grown sons, back down. Anna Chambers was only five foot five in heels, but she was easily the most formidable person I knew.

My father might be the face of Chambers Technology, but my mother was the force that had formed the roots of the successful company, and she’d done so all while raising three boys.

“It wasn’t a question, Gabriel,” she said, softening. “Now, then, what does Samantha think of the new place?”

I leaned against the counter, the thought of my daughter causing a familiar weight in my chest. “No clue. I was hoping she might’ve told you something.”

Samantha had stayed with me last weekend but had barely spoken three words about the condo. I’d bought the place with her in mind and had even set up her room with pink bedding, her own desk, and a view to wake up to. She called the bedding childish, announced she was now a vegetarian after I ordered a steak dinner for the two of us, and treated our Saturday afternoon mall trip as if it were a hostage situation.

By Sunday night, I’d given up and dropped her at my parents’ house so she could bake with my mom and sleep somewhere familiar.

My mom huffed a soft sigh. “She’s about to be a teenager, Gabriel. She’s testing you. Be patient.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I feel like I don’t know her anymore. When did she become a vegetarian?”

She chuckled. “I’m thinking it’s more of a flexitarian arrangement given she ate cheeseburgers at our place on Sunday night.”

I swore under my breath. The year in London had been great for my career and terrible for my relationship with Samantha. Despite flying home one week a month, it hadn’t been enough to bridge the gap. Distance had a way of creeping in quietly until one day you realized the space between you had settled in as the new normal.

Now that I was back for good, ready to make up for lost time, all she seemed to want was to be anywhere but with me.

My mother moved to fuss over the picture frames on the mantel above the gas fireplace. I had snapshots of family vacations, birthdays, and holidays. Each one was proof that my daughter had, at least once upon a time, loved me.

As if she sensed my downward spiral, my mom tossed me a lifeline. “She turns thirteen next weekend. We’ll have a party and a great time celebrating. Leo’s coming in from Vegas and bringing a friend. I’m hoping it’s the woman he’s been seeing. And Nicky and Kelsey will be there, of course. They’re such a great couple.”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my mouth. My youngest brother, Dominic, or “Nicky” to the family, had fallen head over heels for Kelsey the minute he’d met her on a forensic accounting project last year. They’d been inseparable ever since.

As for Leo, my tattooed, war-veteran brother? His situation was more curious. I hadn’t known he was seeing anyone seriously enough to introduce to the family.

Good for them both.

And me? The idea of bringing someone new into my life held zero appeal. I had my daughter, even if she kept me at arm’s length these days, my family, and my career. It was enough. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Dating? Sure. A casual night, no strings, no expectations? Absolutely. But commitment, marriage, love? I’d tried all three, in that order, and the reward had been child support, a custody schedule, and the lifelong privilege of getting blamed for someone else’s unhappiness. At least I’d been smart enough to sign a prenup.

Still, the truth sat heavy. My marriage, with its quiet unraveling which had culminated in divorce, remained my biggest failure. My parents never said it out loud, but I witnessed it in their careful pauses, their small glances when conversation drifted too close. But maybe the silent accusation didn’t come from them at all. Maybe it came from me, still carrying the weight of a life I hadn’t been able to fix.

Once was enough. I wasn’t interested in failing again at love.

“What can I do or bring for her party?”