A Lot Like Adiós

by Alexis Daria

  “And then.” He knew exactly what she meant.

  “I didn’t know it would be like that. Like this. And once I knew . . .”

  “It changed things,” he agreed.

  “It didn’t have to change as much as it did.” Her eyes shone with emotion. “You really hurt me, Gabe. By lying, by leaving, and then by completely ignoring me. I know I didn’t respond well to your decision, but do you know how hard it was to reach out to you after that? Every single time, only to receive nothing. But I kept trying. That’s how much you meant to me.”

  Meant. Past tense.

  He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry. I needed . . .” Space. To escape. To forget. “I needed to start over.”

  “I get it. And I want to be angry at you. I am angry at you. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “I’m just so damn happy to have you back.” Her tone was raw and wistful. “And it feels better to forgive you than stay mad.”

  A slight pressure eased in his chest. “I’m not sure I deserve it.”

  “I’m not sure you do either. But here we are.”

  Michelle slipped her hand out of his and got off the bed. “I’m going to shower,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll leave towels out for you.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest they shower together, but if she’d wanted that, she would have said so. So Gabe just nodded and watched her leave.

  Sixteen years ago

  Windows Messenger Chat Transcript

  Celestial Destiny: Episode 2 Planning Session

  Gabe:

  Holy shit. I can’t believe so many people read the first chapter.

  Michelle:

  Fucking amazing. We need to get started on chapter 2!

  Gabe:

  I have science homework to do.

  Michelle:

  You can copy mine.

  Gabe:

  You don’t even take notes in science class.

  Michelle:

  Fine, you can check mine and let me know what I got wrong.

  Gabe:

  How is that saving me time to write chapter 2?

  Michelle:

  Let’s just plan it out now and we can write it later.

  Gabe:

  Okay. We left off with Zack unconscious on Riva’s ship. Where are they going?

  Michelle:

  His mom hired her to find him, so Riva will be taking him to Queen Seravida. And I think there should be a tía.

  Gabe:

  Like the Queen’s sister?

  Michelle:

  Sure. They’re Latinos in Space TM. You know they’d have lots of tíos y tías. I think you should put one in this scene.

  Gabe:

  I should? What about you?

  Michelle:

  You’re better at world building.

  Gabe:

  Sounds like somebody’s gotten a lot of “include setting details” notes in their Creative Writing class.

  Michelle:

  I see the details in my head, I just don’t write them down. Is that so wrong?

  Gabe:

  Since Ms. Shapiro isn’t telepathic—yeah, that’s wrong.

  Michelle:

  Whatever. You’re still writing this part. And I think it should also be from Zack’s POV, like chapter 1.

  Gabe:

  So Zack and Riva arrive on this planet, and there’s a random auntie waiting for them there. It’s a big moment. The first time Zack’s seeing his mother again, after thinking she was dead all these years.

  Michelle:

  Zack’s Latino. He should call her Mami.

  Gabe:

  She’s a queen!

  Michelle:

  Doesn’t matter. She’s his mami.

  Gabe:

  I guess.

  Michelle:

  While they’re there, the queen gives Zack a mission.

  Gabe:

  To go after a MacGuffin.

  Michelle:

  A what?

  Gabe:

  It’s the thing people in movies are always after.

  Michelle:

  What kind of thing?

  Gabe:

  Anything. The Holy Grail. R2-D2. The One Ring. Doesn’t matter.

  Michelle:

  So Queen Seravida tasks Zack with finding the MacGuffin that’s making his father a total monster.

  Gabe:

  If only it were that easy.

  Michelle:

  Everything okay over there?

  Gabe:

  Yeah, it’s fine. Zack’s powers are uniquely suited for this quest. But he hasn’t used them in years, and he’s not convinced he even wants to get sucked back into his family’s drama.

  Michelle:

  Luckily he has Riva to be his guiding star.

  Gabe:

  Yeah. Lucky guy.

  Chapter 8

  What.

  The hell.

  Were you thinking?

  Michelle stood with her hands braced on the kitchen counter and stared at the bubbling water in the glass electric kettle, as if it were a crystal ball that would turn up a snarky answer like I predict you were thinking with your hormones.

  Sex was not the kind of closure she’d intended when she insisted Gabe stay with her. And she couldn’t even blame it on being high this time.

  Making bad romantic choices wasn’t new for Michelle. It was why she’d given up on dating, opting instead for flings, affairs, or fuck buddies. Whatever you wanted to call them, her sexual entanglements never lasted long and barely touched her heart.

  In her more self-reflective moments, Michelle could admit she tended to have sex with guys who were kind of boring because it allowed her to maintain emotional distance even while letting them into her body. And while she’d gone out a few times with women, she hadn’t gotten to the bedroom with any of them. Even at thirty-one, her bisexuality was still something she was figuring out on a practical level, beyond a lifetime of easily dismissed crushes on female celebrities.

  But this was Gabe, not some rando from college, or work, or from an app. And she’d fallen into bed with him less than twelve hours after reuniting.

  This didn’t have to be a big deal. After all, she was queen of keeping her emotions separate from sex. Why should this time be any different? Sex was just sharing your body with someone. It was as natural as breathing. They’d scratched the itch, gotten it out of their systems, and never had to mention it again.

  Oh fuck. Who was she kidding? Sex with Gabe was totally a big deal. Her inner teenager was freaking the hell out, bouncing off the walls and cheering, “He likes me! He really likes me!”

  But there was danger here too. Gabe had fucked her how she liked to be fucked, hot and fast and a little rough. This kind of sex was impossible to ignore. It was too good, too intimate. It grounded her in the moment and forced her to be present, forced her to confront how she felt.

  She didn’t want to think about how Gabe made her feel. Despite forgiving him, she couldn’t let him mess with her head, or her heart. Like he said, this was only until Friday. She had to remember that.

  And while part of her wanted whatever she could get of him, it was better all around if she maintained emotional boundaries.

  The kettle turned off with a soft click. Michelle went through the familiar motions of making a cup of tea and tried not to focus on how much had changed since the last time she’d done this very thing earlier that morning. She scooped loose leaves into the strainer, soothed by the familiar scent of vanilla Earl Grey and the scratch of the dried tea leaves rustling in the tin. She set the strainer in the mug—one of her dad’s, with the FDNY logo—and poured water over it, leaning away from the steam that rose into the air. Then she opened an orange prescription bottle and set her daily low-dose anti-anxiety pill on the counter next to the mug.

  Michelle occasionally drank coffee, but she didn’t love it like she loved tea. She wouldn’t go so far as saying a h
ot cup of tea cured all ills, but it came close. The meds helped too.

  The sound of water running through the pipes upstairs shut off. Gabe was done with his shower. Damn, he was fast.

  Michelle set a timer for three minutes to let the tea steep and imagined Gabe coming downstairs when the timer went off. How was she supposed to harden her heart to him in such a short time?

  Jezebel butted her head against Michelle’s ankle, and Michelle crouched down to pet her. Things were much better when it was just her and Jez. She needed to remember that.

  The timer beeped. Michelle shut it off, then heard footsteps overhead. She removed the strainer, squirted honey into the mug, gave it a stir, and added oat milk. By the time she washed down her pill with the first decadent sip, Gabe entered the kitchen.

  Michelle stayed at the counter, scared to look at him. Maybe if she didn’t, she could pretend he was less attractive. Or that he hadn’t just fucked his way past her emotional walls.

  Or that his apology hadn’t settled something inside her that had been off-kilter for far too long.

  He came up behind her, his big hands landing on her hips, warm through the denim of her shorts. She sucked in a breath, which trembled out as a sigh when his lips touched the sensitive place at the top of her spine, right over her tattoo.

  “What’s this?” he asked, tracing his fingers over the image she could see in her mind’s eye—a stylized barn owl, with wings outstretched, and a tiny crescent moon over its head.

  “It’s a symbol of Athena,” she murmured, and hurried to take a steadying sip of tea. “Greek goddess of wisdom, among other things.”

  Not that any of Michelle’s choices that morning could be considered wise.

  “I like it.” Gabe stroked the little owl again and Michelle tried—and failed—to fight off a shiver.

  “It’s still early for you,” she said, cupping the mug with both hands so she didn’t give in to the urge to touch him. “If you want to go back upstairs and sleep some more, that’s okay with me.”

  “I’d be happy to sleep with you more.” His deep voice—and that Bronx accent that had apparently never gone away—was a seductive rumble in her ear. She shivered again, but stepped away, giving him a stern look.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said primly. “Here I am trying to be a good friend and look out for your beauty sleep—not that you need any help in that department—and you try to get more sex out of it.”

  He grinned, flashing those dangerous dimples at her, and Michelle could have kicked herself. So much for never mentioning it again.

  The teasing light in his eyes softened. His tongue darted out and he licked his bottom lip like he always did when he was nervous. She filed that away in the “same” category. Also in the “cute” category.

  “Did it feel good?” he asked, voice quiet.

  On the floor, Jezebel reached up to paw at his knees. Michelle’s heart thumped when he leaned down to pick up the cat, but she just shrugged and turned back to the sink. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  She bit back a laugh at his aggrieved response. “Maybe more than fine,” she amended.

  He stared at her for a second longer, then his eyes narrowed, and he said, “Michelle.”

  Just that. Just her name, in a low growl with a tinge of exasperation and humor, like he was trying not to laugh. He’d said her name like this before, but the growl . . . that was new.

  She filed it under “different” and “sexy.”

  “You hear that, Jezebel?” he muttered behind her. “She says it was just fine. Next time I need to show her what I can really do when it’s not three-thirty A.M. my time and she’s not rushing me.”

  He put the cat down and opened the fridge, taking out the containers of cottage cheese and blueberries Michelle had bought for him.

  Next time? Hell, she’d barely survived the first time with her self-control intact. How would she handle a second time?

  Michelle really hadn’t planned to let him make her come. Her intention had been to get in and out—so to speak. Wham, bam, thank you, man. She’d thought rushing him into the penetration part and being on top would have helped her stay in control, but then Gabe had to go and call her “mami”—which should not have been so adorable—and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

  Don’t worry. I’ve got you.

  Damn it, how was she supposed to keep her head when the man said things like that while holding her in those massively big, strong arms? It just wasn’t fair. Even a hard-ass like her couldn’t keep her cool under that kind of seduction.

  The easiness of their banter should have made her happy—this was the closest to “old times” she’d felt since picking him up last night. Sex should have complicated their interactions, made things more awkward. Instead, it had torn down a wall between them—a wall Michelle desperately wished would stay up. She felt closer to him now, like she could say or do anything around him. And that was dangerous.

  Maybe Gabe wasn’t leaving today, but he was still going back to Los Angeles on Friday. She couldn’t let herself get used to this.

  No matter how good it felt.

  Chapter 9

  Gabe ate his breakfast and tried to keep his hands to himself. Michelle clearly didn’t want to get all snuggly, and her “fine” comment bothered him.

  She was holding back. He could tell from the way she’d rushed him and used humor as a defensive tactic, even when he was inside her. She’d held back during sex, and she was trying to put distance between them now. It was smart. Whatever they were doing here was only temporary. He had every intention of returning to his life in Los Angeles at the end of the week, and handing the New York reins over to Fabian whenever the guy was ready. Gabe wasn’t back for good.

  All the same, he just wanted to be close to Michelle again.

  It was stupid to want her like this. There was still too much baggage between them, too much distance, and she was too tied to his old life. For twelve years’ worth of memories, she was a constant fixture. In college, he’d struggled not to start sentences with “my friend Michelle” whenever he talked about something from his childhood. Each time had been a reminder that they weren’t friends anymore. Eventually he just stopped talking about his life in New York altogether. It was one of the things he loved about Agility Gym—it was entirely rooted in his life in California. There was no overlap. No reminders of who he’d been, or of the people who hadn’t believed in him.

  Until now, when his worlds were colliding.

  Gabe put his bowl and spoon in the sink and gave them a quick wash with the sponge before setting them in the drying rack. Then he turned to bring up something that had occurred to him in the shower.

  “I probably should’ve asked earlier, but I’m assuming you don’t have a boyfriend who’s going to show up at any minute, right?”

  “No boyfriend. Or any other kind of friend, for that matter.” Michelle raised an eyebrow. “And you? No secret wife back in LA?”

  Gabe held up his bare left hand. “No wife, no husband, no spouse. I don’t want to get married, and even if I did, I don’t have time to date anyone.”

  Michelle propped a hand on her hip, her jaw dropping open in surprise. “Gabriel Aguilar, do you mean to tell me we’re both bi?”

  He grinned. “Looks that way.”

  “Huh. Wish we’d figured that out in high school. We could’ve had some amazing conversations.”

  “I kinda knew,” he said with a shrug. “But it wasn’t like we had too many people around us to provide an example, you know? And I never would’ve told my parents.”

  “True. My tío Luisito didn’t come out to the family until a few years ago, after his divorce. Everyone was more chill about it than I expected them to be. He’s married to Tío Archer now, and he’s never looked happier. Plus, Abuela adores Archer.”

  “I came out to my sister,” Gabe said. “My niece Lucy is transgender, so I wanted to make sure she knows someone else in the f
amily is queer.”

  Michelle’s smile softened. “I’m sure that made a huge difference to her.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Ava and Jasmine kind of know about me, but I don’t talk about dating at all, so who knows what the rest of my family thinks.”

  His brows creased. “Why don’t you talk about dating?”

  “Because I don’t date.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

  “Why not?”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Like I said, I don’t have time.”

  “Maybe I don’t have time either.”

  Gabe raised an eyebrow, and she expelled a sigh. “Look, love and romance just aren’t for me.”

  “But you deserve those things.” And more. Michelle deserved to be worshipped and adored.

  “If that were true, my romantic life wouldn’t have gone the way it has.” She shrugged again. “It’s fine. I don’t plan to ever get married or have kids. I love my nieces and nephews, but I don’t feel any urge to have kids of my own.”

  “Same. I’m content to be an uncle.” Gabe pulled up a photo on his phone and turned it to show her. “Lucy and Oliver. My niece and nephew.”

  Michelle smiled at the picture of the children, but her eyes were a little sad. “I know,” she said. “I’ve met them.”

  “Oh. Right.” Of course she had. She’d been here all the years he hadn’t.

  “How come I never saw you?” she asked quietly. “On holidays or summer break?”

  “I didn’t come back often. When I did, I usually stayed with my uncle or my sister.”

  Michelle turned away to fuss with the stuff around the sink. “Was it me?”

  “What?”

  She shot him a direct look, but her voice was tight. “Were you hiding from me?”

  He sighed. “Maybe a little. But things with my parents got worse after I left for school. It was hard to stay with them.”

  “So you’re saying it wasn’t because I’m so sexy and amazing?”

  He laughed at the repetition of her words from their earlier argument, grateful that she’d lightened the mood. “You are sexy and amazing.”