A Lot Like Adiós

by Alexis Daria

  She huffed. “I’ll try.”

  He touched her again, stroking gently between her lower lips until she opened for him, soft and wet.

  “God, I want to fuck you so bad, baby.” He breathed the words into her ear as he caressed her, shifting his hand to slip his fingers inside her. “Just like this. I’d slide into you from behind, and—”

  He broke off and pressed his face into the nape of her neck when she bit back a moan. As much as he was doing this to tease her and bring her greater pleasure, he was teasing himself too.

  “What else?” she asked, her voice raspy with desire. “What else would you do to me?”

  He let out a shuddering breath. This was torture of the most exquisite sort.

  “I’d slide into you and you’d take every inch,” he went on, moving his wet fingers to her clit and circling it as he spoke. “I’d start off slow, but then we’d go faster. You like it hard, don’t you, babe?”

  “Yes.” Her reply was barely audible amid her harsh gasps as he matched the speed of his touch to the images he was spinning. She was close, so he shifted his fingers down again, pressing two into her pussy. He thrust them back and forth, mimicking what he wanted to do with his cock. Her hips bucked, and when she let out a series of soft whimpers, he captured her mouth with his in a kiss before bringing his fingers back to her clit.

  She shook beneath his touch, moaning quietly into his mouth.

  And Gabe knew he’d held back when Michelle asked what else he would do with her. He wanted to do more than just fuck her. He wanted to hold her like this while she came around his cock, swallowing her gasps of ecstasy.

  He wanted to cuddle with her through the night and wake up with her every morning.

  A few days and nights weren’t enough. One weekend of pretending wasn’t enough. He wanted more with her. More time, more . . . everything.

  And it scared the shit out of him.

  He didn’t belong here. He’d thrived in Los Angeles. He’d grown into a person he liked and respected. He couldn’t throw all that away and come back to who he used to be.

  Not even for Michelle.

  She sagged against him, panting. “I think I’m ready to sleep now,” she mumbled, and Gabe stifled a chuckle.

  “Glad to be of assistance.”

  “What about you?” She cupped his cock through his shorts, but he gently moved her hand away. All the scary thoughts were bringing him down, and he truly didn’t want to get caught having sex by her parents.

  “I’m good, babe. Just let me hold you, okay? That’s all I want.”

  But instead of spooning her this time, he wrapped himself up in her, tangling their limbs. For this one night, at least, he didn’t have to let her go.

  DESPITE BEING A heavy sleeper, Gabe woke periodically throughout the night to check if Michelle was still there.

  She was.

  By morning, he was attuned to her, and he stirred when he felt her getting out of bed. He pulled her in for a hug, breathing in her woodsy, cinnamon scent. She gave him a kiss on his forehead, then slipped away. He drifted off again and slept deeply.

  When Gabe woke up for real, he was groggy, and Jezebel was curled up where Michelle had been. The cat raised her head, peering at him with big yellow eyes, before slinking over and headbutting his cheek.

  Who was he to ignore an invitation like that?

  After petting Jezebel for a few minutes, Gabe threw on some sweatpants and stumbled downstairs to brew coffee, only to be drawn up short at the sight of Michelle’s dad using the espresso machine.

  Dominic gave Gabe a sidelong look. “Looking for coffee?”

  “Uh, yes, please. Thanks.”

  Dominic poured a shot into a little cup and passed it to him. Gabe blew on it quickly and took a sip. He preferred to add a lot of milk, but he needed to wake up. Fast.

  “Never thought I’d see you around here again,” Dominic said conversationally as he fixed his own cup.

  “I never thought I’d be back,” Gabe answered honestly, then drank some more. His brain clearly wasn’t functioning at full power yet.

  “What’s this I hear about a gym?” Dominic asked.

  “Well, I own one.” What did the guy want to know? “I’m also a licensed physical therapist.”

  “No shit?” Dominic raised his eyebrows like he was impressed. “What is it, one of those bodybuilder gyms? Boxing?”

  “Not quite. We do bodywork and movement training, also fight training for actors.”

  Dominic gestured at him. “With the way you look now, I figured you were into competing and stuff.”

  “I’ve thought about it,” Gabe replied. “Did a few competitions when I was younger. But I just like the routine.”

  “Probably been hard to keep up with here.” Dominic gave a nod toward the basement door. “Our home gym is pretty pathetic. Val uses it more than I do. I still swing by the firehouse when I want a real workout.”

  “You’re retired now?”

  “Yeah, a few years ago.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell to do with myself anymore. I started working security part-time just to have something to do. Val has her arts and crafts stuff upstairs. You probably saw it.”

  “I did, although I can’t say I knew what any of it was.”

  Dominic barked out a laugh. “I don’t ask anymore. And now she wants to open something called an Etsy store for her jewelry. I built her the photo corner with lights so she can take good pictures. It makes her happy, and her jewelry is really good.”

  It was probably the most Dominic had ever said to Gabe directly, except for the couple of times he’d threatened him. To be honest, Gabe had expected more threats, but no, they were able to talk one-on-one. Like adults.

  Dominic clapped Gabe on the shoulder as he passed by on his way to the basement door. “Michie’s downstairs, using the printer. You should probably use the desk in the craft room if you want to get any work done. Val will be back soon and she’s going to be cooking and cleaning for tonight. She already gave me a warning that she’ll be assigning me some projects, so I’m going to relax while I can.” He held up his cup in salute. “See you later, kid.”

  Gabe mumbled a goodbye, then glanced at the clock. Fuck, he had little more than ten minutes before the manager meeting started.

  In his pocket, his phone chimed with a calendar alert.

  Make that exactly ten minutes. Despite telling Fabian he wouldn’t be able to make it, Gabe would feel too guilty if he skipped it.

  He grabbed smoothie ingredients from the fridge and freezer, mixed them up, and rinsed out the blender in record time. Then he bounded upstairs, threw on a T-shirt, and opened his laptop with seconds to spare. At the last second, he slapped a Yankees cap on his head, since he hadn’t combed his hair yet.

  One meeting led to another, which led to a never-ending stream of emails. He was behind on his inbox after not checking it much over the last three days, and when he opened it that morning, he wanted to cry.

  Fabian had missed the meeting and hadn’t replied to any of Gabe’s texts, which was unlike him. Gabe shot him an email, then followed up with Powell, the real estate agent, and even Rocky Lim. He also finished Michelle’s worksheet and typed up all the answers in an email. He sent it to her, although he had a funny feeling that a bunch of his answers were somehow . . . wrong.

  She replied a few minutes later with a text.

  Michelle: Come downstairs.

  Gabe checked his watch. He’d been working for four hours straight, and he was famished. It was a good time to take a break. He closed the laptop, finally combed his hair and gelled it back, and went downstairs.

  Michelle was in the living room, and to his surprise, she had a whole presentation set up on the coffee table. He had a flash of memory of Michelle’s school projects. She’d always loved a presentation board.

  “What’s all this?” he asked.

  “The storyboard for your campaign.”

  “But I just sent you my
answers five minutes ago.”

  She waved that off. “I never really expected you to fill that out. I’ve been listening to you talk about yourself and the business for days. I also did an analysis of your website and social media, and between my own market research for Victory and what Fabian sent me for Agility, I had enough to put together a preliminary pitch. Are you ready to hear it?”

  Gabe studied the board, which was divided into three color-coded sections: Consumer Insights, The Idea, and Activation Plan. Each area contained data and printed pictures.

  “When did you do all this?”

  “Here and there.” Michelle patted the seat cushion next to her. “I’m good at my job.”

  “But you don’t do this exact work anymore, right?”

  She looked at the floor. “No. I don’t.”

  Salsa music played in the kitchen and Valentina sang along off-key. From the backyard, Gabe heard the sounds of hammering. One of the projects Dominic had alluded to?

  Gabe was hungry, but Michelle was giving him an expectant look. She seemed so pleased with herself, he sat on the sofa without any further questions.

  Michelle started with an analysis of the research, throwing around terms like social listening, unmet needs, and gaps in the marketplace.

  “New York City is a crowded market for gyms,” she explained. “You want to show your consumers that you have a differentiated approach that will meet their needs better than your competitors will.”

  Gabe nodded. He vaguely remembered this stuff from when they’d launched Agility in LA, but, of course, Fabian had been in charge of this part, and Powell had weighed in heavily with his ideas.

  Michelle continued by highlighting the opportunity to refresh the brand with a new logo, a revamped website, and a clearer mission statement, to reach the people Gabe really wanted to help. The storyboard included mock-ups of potential designs.

  “We’d have to market-test them with consumers,” Michelle explained. “But it’s a start.”

  Then she focused on the second section of her pitch, The Idea.

  “The focus of your gym is on helping people achieve a full range of movement, right? Let’s lean into that for the ad campaign, getting aerialists and contortionists and the like and photographing them in regular fitness wear and working out on gym equipment. And we’ll get people in a range of ages and body types, races and ethnicities, genders and abilities, to show that your gym is inclusive and everyone is welcome there.”

  The board included a brainstorm of taglines, like “Bodies in motion stay in motion,” “A movement solution for every body,” and “Harmony of movement.” He liked all of them better than “Agility can be yours!” He was pretty sure Powell’s team had come up with that.

  Michelle launched into the Activation Plan, spinning out a story using the visuals on the board.

  “People pay for experiences,” she said. “For the launch, let’s invite them into the gym for a live experience. You know those immersive theater shows where audiences are included within the performance itself? We could work with a theater company to conceive the story and characters, and get an athletic brand to sponsor the costumes, which will just be gym clothes with their logo on it. The performers will be like the ones in your ads, but people will see them come alive here, interacting with the gym and the equipment. It can be a story of movement, of achieving full range of motion. Consumers will associate this story with the Agility brand. And maybe you hold the event every so often as a surprise, like a secret pop-up performance. New Yorkers love a live show, but they especially love one that’ll give them bragging rights.”

  Michelle finished with a rundown of final suggestions, then waved her hands with a flourish. “And there you have it. Agility Gym takes New York.”

  Gabe’s mind whirled with the images and ideas she’d presented. He could see it so clearly, and it excited him more than anything marketing-related ever had before. Trung, who managed Agility’s client schedule, would be ideal to take part in the campaign, and Gabe was sure they’d love the chance to get back to their acrobatic roots. Michelle was a genius.

  “Wow. I just . . . wow, Mich. This is way more than I expected, especially after only a few days.”

  Her smile was a little sad. “I like doing this.”

  “And you’re amazing at it.” This felt important to tell her. Gabe knew she’d been burned in the past, but she had a gift for this kind of work.

  “But you haven’t said yet if you think it’s the right direction,” she pointed out.

  He hadn’t. Because as much as Gabe loved the idea, he could already imagine Powell’s reaction. The investor likely wouldn’t think it was “cool” enough. He’d insist on more celebrities, more idealized bodies, more flash. Michelle’s idea got to the core of what Gabe had set out to do. Unfortunately, it didn’t match what the gym actually was.

  Although it did match what he’d always wanted it to be.

  That was when it hit him. He was still getting steamrolled, still letting someone else influence his decision-making. When he’d been younger, his dad had made all the choices for their family. Gabe had been forced to go along with them, regardless of what he wanted. School, friends, baseball, college—his dad had placed all of those second to family obligation, which, during Gabe’s teen years, consisted of working at the stationery store.

  Ever since Gabe had met Powell, the investor had done the same thing, pushing Gabe and Fabian to include stuff like fight choreography training, to make choices that would appeal to celebrity clients, to open a New York City location even though Gabe had been adamantly against it.

  Gabe had gotten away from his father, only to replace him with Powell.

  The thought gave him a sick feeling in his gut, so he shoved it away.

  “I like it,” he told Michelle, because he did. “I think it’s brilliant and fun, and will speak to people. But we’ll have to run it past Fabian and Powell too.”

  “Understood. And remember, this is just the preliminary concept. There’s still a lot more fine-tuning involved, or we can go back to the drawing board.”

  “Right. Thank you for . . . all of this.”

  And because the words weren’t enough, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss.

  He didn’t care that her mom was in the kitchen or that her dad might walk in at any moment. The presentation had brought up so many conflicting feelings inside him, feelings that had nowhere to go. He needed this connection with Michelle to ground him, to give some of his emotions a home. Love. Appreciation. Hope. He didn’t even know what else. All he knew was that she made him stronger.

  Michelle didn’t question him or make a joke. She just leaned in, meeting his mouth with hers and opening for his tongue. Gabe kissed her slowly and thoroughly, trying to show her without words how much she meant to him.

  Her hand fisted in his T-shirt and she tugged him closer. Gabe slid his fingers into her hair, angling her head so he could tangle his tongue more fully with hers. The kiss deepened and heated. Their mouths fused together until they were both gasping for air whenever their lips parted.

  Gabe was on the verge of dragging Michelle onto his lap and grinding against her through their clothes, but her mom was in the next room, just an open doorway away. Instead, he eased back with a reluctant groan.

  Michelle’s honey-colored eyes were dazed and dreamy. She blinked slowly and licked her lower lip. “What was that for?”

  What could he say to that?

  For being incredible.

  For seeing me and my vision clearly.

  For caring about my gym.

  For caring about me.

  Before he could settle on a reply, Valentina called to them from the kitchen. “Oye, nenes. ¿Quieres comer?”

  Gabe jolted at the sound of Valentina’s voice, and the moment was lost. Michelle shifted away from him and Gabe didn’t say any of the things that were on the tip of his tongue.

  “Do you ever think they’ll stop
calling us children?” Michelle muttered, folding up the presentation board.

  “Never.”

  Gabe was glad for the interruption, which had kept him from revealing too much. And in a weird way, he liked the reminder that there were people older and wiser looking out for him. It was something he hadn’t experienced in nearly ten years.

  As he followed the scent of tostones to the kitchen, he realized that it wasn’t just his feelings for Michelle that were delaying his purchase of a return flight. The sense of home, of family, of being cared for, was nearly intoxicating. He couldn’t let himself get used to it, but he could enjoy it while it lasted.

  And a small part of him was even looking forward to seeing his own parents again that night. He wasn’t sure why or how it had happened, but for once, he decided not to fight it.

  Chapter 21

  The doorbell rang for the umpteenth time and Michelle went to open it with Gabe on her heels.

  “This is not a small family dinner,” Gabe hissed.

  Michelle snorted. “According to my mother, it is.”

  “There are already more than thirty people here!”

  “Exactly. A small family dinner.” Michelle laughed at the look of distress on his face and pulled him down for a kiss. “Relax. They’re just here to eat.”

  The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time.

  “Somebody get the damn door!” Valentina yelled from the kitchen.

  “I got it,” Michelle yelled back.

  “I forgot how loud our families can be,” Gabe muttered.

  “This is nothing.” Michelle opened the door and rolled her eyes when she saw her cousin Sammy standing on the other side with his wife and kids. Sammy was Ronnie’s brother and the oldest of the Rodriguez cousins. He was also a giant pain in the ass.

  Michelle stepped aside to let them in and kissed each of them hello. “Sammy, what are you doing here? Looking for free food?”

  “I heard it was an engagement party, so I brought a present,” Sammy joked, and at Michelle’s withering glare, he laughed. “Relax, Mitch. Your mom asked me to pick up a box of cannoli from Arthur Avenue.” He handed over a large white box tied with red-and-white string. Michelle could smell the sweet aroma of Italian bakery wafting from the edges.