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“You told Abigail about us?” she asks, and then I see her fidgeting with her fingers, so I know she’s nervous.
“Come in,” I invite her, moving to the side as she walks in and goes to the living room. I close my eyes as I shut the door.
“You told her about us?” she asks again.
“I did,” I admit to her.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” she says as I walk into the living room, standing in front of her. The coffee table is in the middle of the room between us.
“I sort of got that from the shock on her face when I told her about us,” I tell her, wondering if she is pissed that I told her sister about us.
“Why?” she asks the loaded question Abigail also asked me when I told her about us.
I tell her the same thing I told Abigail. “Because I have to take accountability for what I did.” She hangs her head. “For my actions.”
“My mother called me,” she shares, and her voice quivers.
“I’m so, so sorry, Gabriella,” I tell her. “I know I don’t care that they take my picture, but I didn’t think about you.”
“I told my mother about us,” she says, and I’m about to take a step to her, but I stop. Something in her voice tells me she isn’t done. “She asked me if I could forgive you.” The nerves start to fill my body. “She also said that if I couldn’t forgive you, I should let you go because it wasn’t fair to you.”
“What did you tell her?” My palms are so sweaty as I ask this question.
“I told her I had a lot to think about.” She looks into my eyes. “And I do. I kept playing it over and over in my head.”
“You should make a list,” I tell her, trying not to make my voice crack.
“Do you want to go out with me tonight?” she asks, and I know the answer right away. It will always be yes. “There is a hockey game tonight.”
I look at her, not sure if I heard her right. “The hockey game?” I say again. “The press will be there for sure.”
“I don’t care.” It’s like music to my ears. Like the symphony is playing. “I don’t care,” she repeats, and I have to wonder if she is trying to convince herself or me.
“Are you sure?” I ask, and she just nods at me.
“They usually go out after the games,” she tells me.
“You want to go out?” I ask. “Do you usually go?”
“Not really, but Matty and Christopher are still in town,” she replies, and my heart soars that not only does she want me to go with her to the game but she wants me to go out with her afterward.
“So let’s go out. I’m going to go change,” I tell her, walking past her but stopping beside her. “I’ll be five minutes.” I bend to softly kiss her lips. Her hand comes out and cups my cheek. “You look beautiful.” I kiss her one more time before I walk into the bedroom.
I walk over to the bed and sit down. My head hangs now as the tension leaves my body. “What’s wrong?” I look up toward the door at her.
“Just catching my breath,” I answer her. “It’s like it’s been a roller coaster every day since I got here.”
She laughs as she walks in and sits next to me. “Well, that happens when you are in the public eye.”
I nod at her. “I mean, I’ve been tagged about a thousand times, and I have thirty-four thousand new requests to follow me on Instagram.” She looks at me. “I did get calls from both my brother and my father.”
“Which brother?” I ask, knowing I could probably get Christopher on my side, but Dylan looks like he could body-slam me and not look back.
“Dylan,” she says, and I close my eyes and hiss.
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t say his name,” I finally admit and she laughs and pushes my shoulder with hers.
“What are we going to tell your family?” I ask, looking down at my hands, not sure what the right thing to do is.
