A Lot Like Adiós

by Alexis Daria

  Thinking about what they might do when they got back to the house that night, he slipped an arm around her waist and led her through the rest of the exhibit.

  “THAT WAS DELICIOUS.” Gabe stretched his legs as much as he was able to in the front seat of Michelle’s Fiat.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad meal there,” Michelle agreed as she drove up Morris Park Avenue.

  After leaving the zoo, they’d stopped at one of the Bronx’s famous Italian restaurants, where Gabe had worked as a valet his senior year of high school. They’d gorged on pasta and seafood, and after a waiter recognized him, a glass each of white wine. Gabe couldn’t remember the last time he’d consumed so much butter in one sitting, but he had no regrets.

  Lulled by carbs, wine, and the familiarity of the road, Gabe noted each house as Michelle drove to their old street—he wouldn’t think of it as “home” again. As Michelle started to turn the car into her parents’ driveway, Gabe’s gaze continued on to his own house, an old habit, just in time to see the front door open and his father step out.

  “Shit!” Gabe ducked down in his seat, nearly wrenching his shoulder when the seat belt pulled taut. “Keep driving!”

  “What the fuck?” Michelle jerked the wheel and sped up, stopping briefly at the stop sign on the corner before turning. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Gabe felt like he was nearly having one himself. His pulse skyrocketed, and his skin felt clammy.

  “That was my dad,” he mumbled.

  He hadn’t seen his father in nine years, hadn’t even really gotten a good glimpse of him before ducking out of sight, but he’d know Esteban Aguilar anywhere.

  If they had pulled into the driveway just three seconds earlier, he would have come face-to-face with him while getting out of the car.

  “Gabe, stop being such a baby,” Michelle snapped as she circled the block. “He’s your father, not a serial killer.”

  He gaped at her. “Are you serious? He almost caught us!”

  Me. He almost caught me.

  “And I almost hit your mom’s car because you scared me. How would I explain that? Lo siento, Norma. Your son, who you don’t know is here, startled the shit out of me while I was parking and I took out your taillight. My bad!” She pulled over to the curb and pointed. “Look, there he goes. We’re in the clear.”

  Gabriel did not appreciate her sarcasm. “One of the conditions of me staying with you is that my parents do not find out I’m here.”

  “That wasn’t one of the original conditions,” she said in a snotty voice he remembered all too well.

  “Only because you lied to me about where we’d be staying.” He knew he was getting loud, but his heart was still pounding with the shock of seeing his father.

  “Are we back on that again? I didn’t lie, exact—”

  “Get out of the car.”

  She shot him an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

  “Michelle, ¡salte del carro!”

  “Mira, comemierda, este es mi carro.”

  Gabe took his hat off and shoved his hands through his hair, groaning in frustration. “Okay, pero let me drive it around the corner so I can get out closer to the gate and sneak around the house like a fucking burglar again. And this time open the goddamn basement doors so my mother doesn’t almost see me too.”

  “Whatever you want, Gabe!” The way Michelle said it did not match the accommodating words, but she left the engine running and opened her door. They both climbed out and stomped around the car—Gabe around the trunk, Michelle around the hood—before getting back in. Gabe drove around the corner in silence, still shaken by the close call. Michelle sat with her arms folded across her chest and a dark scowl on her face. He parked in the driveway and Michelle grabbed the key fob the second the emergency brake was engaged, sweeping from the car in high dudgeon.

  Once upon a time, Gabe would have tried to placate her. She had a temper, and he’d always tried to soothe her when she was in a mood. But now? Fuck it. He was pissed. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to stay here.

  He ducked out of the car and around the side of the house, easier this time since he was coming from the driver’s side and wasn’t carrying a suitcase. From the steps, Michelle activated the locks on the car doors. Gabe had been so careful on the way out, making Michelle keep tabs on where his parents were in their own house before sneaking out to her car and diving into the back seat. They should have been more careful coming back, but the trip to the zoo and the restaurant had lulled him into a false sense of security.

  In the backyard, he waited by the sliding glass doors longer than it should have taken Michelle to get there, and he figured she was punishing him for yelling at her. He wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t take this shit anymore. She had no respect for his feelings where his parents were concerned.

  At least the motion sensor light didn’t out him this time. He’d remembered to disable it before they’d left.

  When Michelle finally appeared on the other side of the glass, she glared at him for a long moment. Then she unlocked the door and slid it open, turning and heading back up the basement stairs before he could even step through.

  “Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he yelled after her. The basement door slammed shut in response.

  Yeah, it was like that.

  Fifteen years ago

  Windows Messenger Chat Transcript

  Celestial Destiny: Episode 3 Planning Session

  Michelle:

  All right, time to plan episode 3. Riva is pissed at Zack.

  Gabe:

  This should be in her POV, which means you should write it.

  Michelle:

  But I have Into the Woods rehearsals every night!

  Gabe:

  And I have baseball practice every morning. I still wrote all of chapter 2, which was three times as long as chapter 1.

  Michelle:

  Maybe I can come by the store this weekend while you’re working. I’ll bring my laptop and we can work on it when there aren’t any customers.

  Gabe:

  Which is, like, all the time now.

  Michelle:

  If anyone does come in, we’ll say we’re doing homework.

  Gabe:

  We SHOULD be doing homework instead of writing fanfiction.

  Michelle:

  But this is so much more fun! I also got a great idea for this chapter while I was in the shower.

  Gabe:

  . . . the shower?

  Michelle:

  Yeah, it’s where I get all my best ideas. Don’t be a perv.

  Gabe:

  You’re the one who brought it up! You could have left that part out.

  Michelle:

  ANYWAY . . . I think Zack should get amnesia.

  Gabe:

  You know that’s not real, right?

  Michelle:

  Amnesia?

  Gabe:

  Yeah. In real life, people forget memories but they don’t actually forget who they are.

  Michelle:

  Well, these people are running around in spaceships and there was a Groundhog Day time loop episode about getting sucked into a black hole, so I’m not really concerned with accuracy here.

  Gabe:

  Okay, true.

  Michelle:

  And since Zack never told Riva his powers, he forgets what they are!

  Gabe:

  How does he get amnesia?

  Michelle:

  Remember how Zack warned Riva to double-check her equipment after the mechanics worked on her ship in chapter 1?

  Gabe:

  Yeah . . .

  Michelle:

  Well, what if she didn’t?

  Gabe:

  They can get attacked by space pirates as they’re leaving the planet where his mom is hiding, and because she didn’t check the diagnostics or whatever, they crash-land on a different planet.

  Michelle:

  And Zack hits his head and los
es his memory!

  Gabe:

  Doesn’t Riva have healing powers? She’d be able to heal his amnesia.

  Michelle:

  Maybe, but what if she just . . . doesn’t?

  Gabe:

  Harsh.

  Michelle:

  Zack isn’t planning to go along with the mission, and Riva wants to save the galaxy. So she lies to him about who they are.

  Gabe:

  She can say they’re smugglers or something. And it would make Zack believe that they have to be careful about not getting caught.

  Michelle:

  Right. Maybe she makes up a threat, someone who’s trying to capture them.

  Gabe:

  Someone IS trying to capture them. His father, the king.

  Michelle:

  This’ll be fun. Riva can tell him real memories from their childhood, and made-up memories of their smuggling career.

  Gabe:

  You’re definitely writing this chapter. Backstory is not my strong suit.

  Michelle:

  Don’t worry, Gabe. I’ll remember our backstory for us.

  Chapter 11

  Michelle had already been rage-cleaning for hours by the time Gabe came downstairs the next morning. She’d scrubbed the kitchen and downstairs bathroom until they sparkled, and she was in the middle of cooking a giant—but healthy—breakfast when Gabe entered the kitchen with a bewildered look on his handsome face. Maluma crooned softly from the mini-speaker connected to her phone.

  Before Gabe could say anything, she blurted out, “I’m sorry I called you a baby.”

  His dimples flickered like he was suppressing a smile. “Is that why you think I’m upset?”

  “And,” she continued, not willing to let his smart remarks derail her, “I’m sorry for not taking your concerns about your parents more seriously.”

  One of his dimples deepened. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to startle you, but seeing my dad . . . it took me by surprise. I haven’t talked to my parents in nine years.”

  “Nine?” The spatula skidded in the pan, causing her to flip the egg white and spinach omelet with more vigor than was strictly necessary.

  He shot her an incredulous look. “You really didn’t know that?”

  “I thought my mom was exaggerating when she said you didn’t talk to them. Like maybe she meant you hadn’t visited in a while. You know how Puerto Rican mothers are.”

  He shook his head. “No contact since my sister’s wedding.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. And yesterday wasn’t my finest moment,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to spend the precious little time we have together fighting. Besides, we have a busy day ahead, and it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if we’re on speaking terms.”

  “Mich.” Gabe leaned against the kitchen counter. When she turned to look at him, he said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  She shrugged. “I can handle yelling. You’ve met my family.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I try not to raise my voice or speak in anger, but I did that to you yesterday. And I’m sorry for it.”

  Damn, how could anyone resist a man who delivered such a heartfelt apology?

  “Apology accepted,” she said primly. “Do you want bacon?”

  “Of course I want bacon. What kind of a question is that?”

  “How should I know?” She gestured at him with the spatula. “You clearly have a my body is a temple thing going on, and I would imagine that life doesn’t include a lot of greasy breakfast meat.”

  He sputtered out a laugh. “You’re right, but I make exceptions when I’m not at home. Otherwise I try to eat healthy most of the time.”

  “So do I, but that doesn’t explain why you look like you lift weights every day.”

  “Not every day. I take rest days, as one should.”

  “Gabe. Don’t try to tell me you’re not in a gym every single day.”

  “I work in a gym.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Working out clears my head, helps me focus. It gives me a sense of . . .”

  “Control?” she suggested.

  His brow creased, like he was thinking about it, but then he nodded. “It improves my mood, helps me feel stronger—all the typical benefits of exercise. But yeah, I can probably be a little . . . militant about my diet and lifestyle.”

  Knowing the details of his upbringing, Michelle could understand why he’d been drawn to activities that allowed him full control over himself. For so long, he’d been subject to his parents’ demands, forced to do things their way. But she didn’t bring that up.

  Instead, she asked, “I guess this means your pot-smoking days are over?”

  “Oh god. I haven’t done that in years. You?”

  “I don’t need to anymore.” She showed him the prescription container stationed next to the electric kettle.

  “What are these?”

  “Anxiety meds. I started them after I quit my job. They calm me down, help me feel . . . steadier.”

  He nodded. “Steady. Yeah. That’s how working out makes me feel.”

  “Get plates,” she told him. “Food’s done.”

  They kept the conversation light while they ate, discussing the itinerary for the day. First, they were meeting with the real estate agent to look at a few locations. Then there was a meeting with the investor and a possible celebrity spokesperson.

  “Who’s the celeb?” Michelle asked, spearing a piece of avocado with her fork.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” Gabe said. “Don’t freak out.”

  “Pfft. I can be cool. You know my cousin Jasmine is a movie star now, right?”

  His lips curved in a slight smile. “I might have watched Carmen in Charge.”

  “What did you think?” She pointed her fork at him menacingly. “If you hated it, don’t tell me.”

  Gabe’s grin was full blown. “I loved it. Jas was great. You must be proud of her.”

  Michelle set down her fork. “I am.”

  Some part of Michelle appreciated that, even though Gabe hadn’t reached out in all these years, he’d watched Jasmine’s show.

  “I’ll play chauffeur today,” Michelle said, getting back to the topic at hand. “No offense, but I don’t trust you to drive my car around Manhattan. I’ll bring my laptop and do some work in cafés, or in the car if we can’t find parking.”

  Gabe frowned. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’ll be in meetings.”

  “So? I want you there.” He said it like there could be no other option.

  It made logical sense, so she nodded. Seeing the potential spaces and meeting the celebrity they were thinking of working with would help her formulate the best plan for the campaign.

  But inside, warmth kindled at the thought that Gabe wanted her with him for his business meetings. Whether it was because he valued her input or couldn’t bear to be apart from her, she didn’t know. The possibility of either made her a little giddy.

  Instead of her usual tank-top-and-jeans combo, Michelle put on a royal-blue dress from her Rosen and Anders days and a pair of red wedges. She swapped out her Captain America–themed mini-backpack for a red Kate Spade shoulder bag, and left her hair down instead of sweeping it into a messy bun. When she met Gabe in the living room, he did a double take.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I think we should just stay here. In bed.”

  It was hard to say no when he was looking so good in dark slacks and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his exquisitely muscled forearms. But Michelle wanted to see Business Owner Gabe in action, so she grinned and shook her keys at him. “Let’s go.”

  AFTER VISITING FIVE locations with Carter the real estate agent, Gabe welcomed Michelle’s suggestion that they stop at a café before driving uptown for the next meeting. With his oat milk latte in hand, Gabe leaned back in the front seat and took a long, slow sip, trying to forget that he’d quit caffeine years ago.

&n
bsp; He and Michelle had viewed potential spaces all over Manhattan from Harlem to Soho, and gotten stuck in traffic twice, where they were forced to make small talk with Carter, a sandy-haired guy who looked to be about thirteen. Carter was a self-proclaimed HGTV addict.

  “I never want to hear about House Hunters ever again,” Gabe muttered, lowering the to-go cup.

  Michelle snickered. “It’s a whole channel devoted to his profession. I’d be more concerned if he didn’t watch HGTV. I hope he knows most of those shows are fake, though.”

  “Don’t tell him that. You’ll ruin his life.”

  She took another sip of iced tea, then set the cup in the holder between them. “Did you prefer any of the spaces we saw? You played it pretty cool, so I couldn’t tell.”

  He’d worried she was going to ask that. “I don’t know,” Gabe finally said. “The Soho space was nice. I could see it matching the vibe of the Los Angeles location. High ceilings, lots of glass, et cetera.”

  “Do you want it to have the same vibe?” Michelle asked. “Or do you want it to be its own thing?”

  “I don’t know,” he said again. “Fabian is supposed to do this part. I’ll send him the pictures and let him decide.”

  “We should talk about your audience,” she said, starting the car. “Have you analyzed your social media following to see where they’re located? I’m guessing most will be in the Los Angeles area, but we’re going to want to build out your New York City and tri-state area audience, because they’re going to be your new customers.”

  “Um, Fabian would know.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Should I email Fabian about some of these things?”

  “Yeah, probably.” Gabe hated that he couldn’t answer her questions, but all of this was Fabian’s area of expertise. Gabe trained the employees and worked on classes and curriculum. He connected with vendors and equipment providers, and handled the hiring and firing. Fabian was the one who usually interacted with the investors, bank, and anything having to do with décor or social media.