“I love you. If you don’t know anything else, please
just know that.” He says as he disappears into the hallway towards the bedroom.
My back leans against the counter as I slump a little
in my seat. My emotions want to punch through the wall that I’ve so easily created when my family died. Gabe has picked at the wall, brick by brick, but it’s still erect and still protecting me from spilling everything I feel. I shake my
head, feeling regret for being a bitch and unwilling to talk. I rub my forehead and shake my head as I stand. Gabe went
into the bedroom and I can hear the shower running in the
distance. I need to get my shit together, to be fair to the both of us. But how can I tell the man that I love that I’m feeling the way that I am.
C H A P T E R
Twenty-Three
Gabe took a long time in the shower, when he
emerged I sat on our bed with my legs crossed. It gave me a little extra time to come to the conclusion that I should talk to him regardless of knowing all the bits of my thoughts. As he stood in the doorway, his hair dripping down his back and his chest, he looked at me, and I saw sadness and caution in his eyes, I felt like even more shit for being the person to put those feelings there. He wordlessly went to the closet and pulled out some clothes as he dropped his towel and stepped into his basketball shorts. He grabbed the towel and hung it up on the corner of the door as my eyes followed his fluid movements watching his muscles work effortlessly.
I’ m a lucky girl. I think to myself as I admire his body.
I clear my throat before my thoughts run away with
me and open my mouth. Gabe’s hand goes up stopping me.
“I don’t want you to feel forced to talk it out. I said
that I would wait until you figured everything out.” He says quietly.
“I decided that I should talk it out with you, maybe you can help me figure it out?” I say asking him in a way if he’s willing.
“Okay. But honestly, it sucks but I can wait. I will
wait for you for as long as you need me to.”
“That’s not fair to you Gabe.” I say to him, in which
he turns and says nothing in response. “Please, sit down.” I say patting the space on the bed beside me.
We’re quiet for a few moments before I turn my
whole body towards him and pull on one of his hands in his lap to mine. I take a deep breath and hope that what I’m
about to say makes sense.
“I feel guilty.” I blur out in one breath.
“Ooooo-kay?” Gabe slowly says.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s nothing like that. I
just feel guilty.”
“Can you go into the reasoning behind feeling that
way?” He asks squeezing my hand.
“Your career. I feel like you chose staying here,
because of me, when you have these amazing opportunities
that were practically handed to you. But you went with the job here instead of wherever else.” I talk so fast, scared that I won’t be able to get out what I want to say any other way.
Gabe’s body relaxes as he takes in what I said. He
looks deep in thought as he looks at me.
“Sometimes, when someone comes along in your
life and you get this weird feeling, a good feeling, you don’t
let that person slip through your fingers. You are that to me.
You came first in this instance, and I was okay with that.
More than okay, really- I was ecstatic about it. I never had that all or nothing feeling about another person before until you came along. I wasn’t going to choose a job opportunity over a person who has the ability to change my life. A job is a job, I can get one of those anywhere, but you.” He clears his throat. “There’s only one of you and you are here, and that’s the only place that I want to be. Wherever you are.”
His hand lifts to my face and wipes a tear that falls without my knowing. He leans in and kisses the spot and smiles as he pulls back.
“Well there’s nothing that I can say that will top
that.” I smile back to him, relishing in what he just said. It was single-handedly the most romantic thing someone has
ever said to me, that I want to rewind time and press the
record button to listen to his words whenever I could.
“I understand that maybe stemming from everything
where guilt can surface, but I want you to know that I chose staying here willingly.” He smiles.
“I don’t know how to explain the lingering feeling. I
know we’re good, I know that to the bone. But I just feel like maybe I’m holding you back from greatness.”
“I’m great when I’m with you.”
“That’s so cheesy.” I smile.
“But it’s true.” He says pulling me into his lap.
“Fate, the wicked bitch brought us together. We both have
demons haunting us and we’ve become stronger together and
I like to think individually because of our relationship.”
“Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?” I try to keep my laughter inside from his textbook babble.
“I see a shrink, remember?” He smiles and then his
smile grows. “Hey, why don’t you come with me to my next
session? Pete would love to meet you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t need to see a
therapist.”
“Maybe talking to him a little will help alleviate
your feelings of guilt. Overtime, the guilt that I have with feeling bad about mourning Misha over Isabella. I mean the guilt that I have is still present, but I have a better
understanding of it all now. Maybe coming with me can
help?”
“Can I think about it?” I ask, unsure if I want to
crowd into his time with his therapist and really unsure if I feel comfortable unloading all my issues on a complete
stranger.
He kisses me on the nose and pulls back with a
smile.
“Babe, just let me know. Whatever you feel
comfortable with, we can do.” His hands tighten around my
waist and begin traveling down my hips to my ass. He
squeezes briefly, leans back in for a kiss and then taps me out.
“That’s it?” I ask, shocked that he’s asking me to
move off of him.
“It’s been a long day, I skipped lunch and I need to
get started on dinner, so I can feed us.”
I relish in the way he says us a moment before scurrying off his lap. With a smirk, he laughs and gets off the bed leaving me sitting in the same spot I sat in when I was waiting for him to finish his shower.
A dreadful feeling comes over me, souring my
mood. I still feel the same way I did, guilty, but it’s not just about him, I can tell it’s more than that. His words also play in the soundtrack to those thoughts, making me all the more confused. I shake my head and get off the bed myself, I busy myself by changing and eventually leave the bedroom.
The house smells like fresh herbs and simmering
sauce, it smells like whatever Gabe is cooking has been
cooking all day. I enter into the kitchen and take my seat at the counter, where a glass of red wine is already waiting for me. As I sit, Gabe turns his head and winks at me. I take this time to observe him, push away from guilty feelings and
simply observe the gorgeous man, my gorgeous man in the kitchen making me dinner.
His black basketball shorts sit on his hips, the
irresistible dimples on his back, just above his butt are showing, begging me to touch them. As he moves quietly
back and forth between the stove and the spices cabinet, the muscles in his back move fluidly with his movements,
clenchi
ng and pulling in all directions, reflecting just how in shape he is. When he turns around, he has the wine bottle in his hand, ready to refill my glass. I take the moment to
observe his perfectly sculpted chest as he walks my
direction. It’s almost in slow motion, or my mind is working so slowly. I watch his veined arms holding the bottle and the chords in his neck. His nipples are the perfect size, not too big and not too small for a guy, which sit atop muscular
pecs, his stomach is toned and while he doesn’t have a full six-pack, he’s working with a damn fine abdomen which
sits atop that V that makes my mouth go dry and my eyes glued to him, objectifying him. The sprinkle of dark hair that ultimately leads to what I’ve secretly dubbed my pleasure
zone, My eyes trail down to the pleasure zone as he stops in front of me, or maybe he’s been standing there silently for a while, either way I haven’t noticed.
“Are you done?” He laughs gaining my eyes to
travel north.
“Huh?” I close my mouth and wipe what could be
drool from the corners of my mouth.
“Like what you see?” He smiles.
“I might.” I shrug trying to be indifferent.
“You might? I think that I could sway you one
specific way.” He jokes leaning against the counter towards me.
“You probably could, but you have a dinner to make
us.” I remind him. “And you didn’t eat lunch today.” I jump off the stool and practically make a show by shaking my hips into the living area and sit on the couch. Only once turning back to look at Gabe, who was still in the spot he was
leaning, smiling and shaking his head like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me.
C H A P T E R
Twenty-Four
Gabe was working late, so I spent my evening next
door with Mindy, Stella and Dave. Dave distracted Stella in the living room by playing one of her games that she got
from Christmas while Mindy and I cleaned up from dinner
and chatted about everyday life. I couldn’t help the
continued feeling of guilt from my subconscious that I
brought it up to Mindy after we finished and sat at the
kitchen counter together. I told her a paraphrased version of what Gabe said and as she looked like she melted into her
seat, I also mentioned that he offered to let me go with him to see his therapist.
“I hate therapists.” Mindy says.
“That’s helpful.” I deadpan.
“Well, I don’t hate them. I just wish they weren’t
called therapists, I mean c’mon the rapist, and it just isn’t a good name for them.”
“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink
tonight.” I smile, pulling back her glass of wine.
“Oh shut it. I mean every time someone says
‘therapist’, my mind switches it to the rapist, every time!
You can’t tell me that you don’t think the same!”
“So you’re just against the name?” I laugh.
“Yes. Otherwise, I think they’re good people.”
“Oh man, you are quite the case.”
“Case? What case? What do you mean?” She looks
confused looking around.
“Head case. You’re a head case. Maybe instead of
Gabe or me, you should be going to see one.”
“Ha! Actually, I could probably benefit from one.
So, are you going to go?”
“I haven’t actually decided yet. I’m still giving it
more thought.”
“I think you would benefit from going to a rapist.”
She giggles.
“You’re horrible.”
“I’m funny.”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re absolutely right. Shhh. Don’t tell Dave, this
is my fifth glass of wine. I may or may not have drunk an
entire bottle while cooking dinner.” She giggles again
leaning closer to me.
“Yup, I’m just going to take this away from you.” I
say as I pull her glass of wine away from her again.
The side kitchen door opens and Gabe peeks his head in, looking around the space and finally his eyes
landing on me, with two glasses of wine in front of me.
He smirks as the rest of his body makes its way into
the door frame and he shuts the door. He walks over in front of the counter and leans across to give me a quick kiss.
“I found you.” He smiles.
“I didn’t realize that you were looking, but yup, here
I am.” I force a smile.
He looks at me, considering my posture, tone and
the forced look on my face. It’s obvious that he doesn’t buy it and it irks me that he catches onto these types of things so easily, when I have no clue half the time what’s he’s
thinking or feeling unless I outright ask. Gabe looks to his sister, who is very obviously drunk by the glaze in her eyes and the dopey smile on her face. Her chin sits on her palm and she’s leaning very close to me and she’s slightly playing a balancing act on her own.
“So, what ‘cha ladies doing?” He asks slowly.
“Just chatting.” I say evenly.
“Chit chatting.” Mindy laughs.
“Ah, girl talk.” Gabe nods.
“We’re talking about rapists.” Mindy explains.
Gabe’s eyes look to come out of his head as he looks
between the two of us.
“Um, any specific reason?” He asks.
“Because of you silly.” Mindy slurs. She seems even more drunk than she did five minutes ago.
“Excuse me?” He says defensively.
“Okay, as amusing as this is, let’s go home. Mindy,
go sleep it off you wild woman you.” I narrow my eyes at
Mindy as she laughs.
I usher Gabe out of the house and into our house
next door. We take a seat at the counter, our normal go to spot and Gabe takes a deep breath.
“Care to fill me in on that whole rapist thing?
Should I be worried?” He asks concerned.
I laugh loudly. “God no. Your sister, well as you
saw is drunk. We were talking about therapy and she was
stuck on the word itself.”
Gabe exhales and then puts his hands over his face.
He groans into his hands.
“You had me seriously freaking out.” He says
against his hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was toasted when we
first started talking. Then she went off the rocker and things got crazy, at least in her mind.”
“But you guys were talking about therapy? Are you
giving it consideration?” He asks hopeful.
“I’m considering signing your sister up for it, that’s
for sure!” I laugh. “I’m still contemplating. I’m not
comfortable talking to strangers about personal stuff, you’ve seen that.” I say playing with a crumb on the counter.
“I get it. If you have any questions, or even just want to talk to me about stuff, we can do that.” He offers.
“Thank you. I’m sorry that I’m a basket case.” I
apologize.
“Both of us are in our own right, there’s nothing
abnormal about that.” He leans in and kisses my forehead,
then gets up. He rounds the counter and opens the fridge
then stares at the contents.
I can’t help but to hate the way that I’m feeling,
knowing that it’s unfair to him and knowing that he’s feeling that I’m not all in with our relationship because of my guilt.
Internally, I am battling with myself because I want to talk out my feelings; however I am afraid of what will unravel if
I do. Will this relationship be tarnished because we jumped into it so fast? Will all the feelings come to surface when or if I speak about my family? Will the therapist say that I’m completely in the right to feel guilty because I’m a selfish girl who just wants the boy? I know that it’s unhealthy to keep such strong questions or emotions bottled up, but I’m not good at tackling a source head on. I can acknowledge
that therapy seems to be doing Gabe a lot of good. He
handles his emotions well, and seems to be more so centered than I am.
“How often do you go to your therapist?” I ask him.
“I used to go a few times a week, but we dialed it
back to every other week recently. I can go more if I wanted though.”
“Do you actually lie on a couch and actually talk to
the person like that?”
“Actually, my first appointment when I came here, Pete was lying on the couch when we first started.” He
laughs. “He sat up though after a moment, it was a nice ice breaker. We sit in the love seats in his office.”
“Does he guide you or do you just let it all out?” I
feel like I’m shooting question after question at him, he’s being patient with his answers and not seeming bothered by them.
“There is no real format. At first, you’re identifying
what you want to talk about. I did a lot of rambling, we
eventually settled on something simple then dig deep. I’ve talked a lot about you.” He smiles.
“Good things?”
“Besides the fact that you want to buy a bigger bed,
yes.” He smirks as he finishes making his sandwich.
“When’s your next appointment?” I ask.
“In a few days, you want to come?” He asks
chewing on his food.
“I’ll let you know.” I say standing and heading to the
bedroom to change.
C H A P T E R
Twenty-Five
The building wasn’t what I was expecting when we
pulled into the parking lot. I was expecting it to look like a brick building or a shiny executive office in the heart of downtown. Instead, the building is in fact a house and is
gorgeous. It is a Grey Victorian styled house, with white
shutters and decorative trim, the entrance of the house is large rocks showcasing a beautiful white door with a squared stained glass window at the top. There is a huge wrap around porch with a porch swing and a rocking chair, where I
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