Mind Over Matter

by Kaia Bennett

  She breathed in, breathed out, and told herself she would be alright. It was like coping with a panic attack. All she had to do to get through it was remind herself this was the present and she was going to be alright. Even when Gabriel's smiling face flashed before her closed eyes, she held onto the chant. The past was the past. His smiles, his tears, and the feel of him just holding her the way a friend would; it didn't matter now because the past was the past.

  Even though she told herself this, sometimes it was those images that hurt most of all. The tenderness he used to show her, the love and sweetness wrapped up in even the dirtiest of their deeds.

  But those moments were just fragments from another life. She opened her eyes, and stared her reflection down while she applied the simple shade that brought out the natural pink hue of her lips. The past was the past, was the past.

  She blinked hard, put her mask back on, and followed Trish out as if Gabriel's name had never entered her mind. That determined smile was in place and didn't falter. Unless you counted how Jackie and Ian made her tear up as they exchanged their vows, rings and sealed it with a kiss.

  Or when she looked over Ian’s shoulder and her gaze connected with Gabriel’s before he turned away.

  After that, though, her mask of happiness was back in place. She watched her sister and brother-in-law dance their first dance to Heatwave’s “Always and Forever”. She danced with her nephew, twirling in her dress as he twirled and clapping as he thrust his arms in the air, stomped his feet at odd moments and grinned up at his adoring Auntie Nikki. She did the Electric Slide and the Macarena, and drank three glasses of champagne while she laughed and remembered the old single days with Jackie and the bridesmaids.

  Travis wasn't by her side for much of the night. At least, not the way he would have been if they were the couple they used to be. He didn't feel like dancing the whole night the way he would have. He didn't have much to say to her, so he talked around her, to whatever group happened to be around them at the moment. It hurt to see him as he truly was. Clever, funny in that deadpan sort of way, laughing and being appreciated because he didn't have to be cold or guarded. It hurt to see that genuine, beautiful smile directed at everyone else but her.

  But nothing hurt as much as making her way through the reception hall to pee, coming out of the bathroom, and finding the man she'd been avoiding leaning against the wall watching the festivities. Their eyes met as she was coming down the hall that led back into the fray of partiers.

  What did one do in a situation like this? Could she just nod, say “hello” and push back through the crowd? Would it even be possible to do that much? He must hate her after all she'd done, and she still wasn't well versed in "wounded-ex" protocol. Not when it came to this man.

  She had to take another deep, cleansing breath and remind herself this wasn't about him and her. This was a celebration of true love and true commitment, not another opportunity to mourn the opposite. And it was bound to happen that they would be near enough to each other to talk. He was a friend of the family, he wasn't going away, and the least she could do was be kind to him. If he wasn't willing to reciprocate, well then, that was only what she deserved. She wasn't going to be a coward. That's what had caused so many messes, so much heartache in her life: cowardice.

  She involuntarily scoped out the party when he turned away from her. He'd gone back to watching his current girl-of-the-week dance with some other male guest. Travis was nowhere to be seen. He might have gone out to make a phone call. There was a project he was working on that required a lot of after-hours attention these days. It was part of the reason she didn't see much of him anymore. Aside from him blatantly avoiding her by hiding out in his favorite bar.

  She took another deep, shaky breath and made a beeline for him.

  Quick and short. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. “Hi” and “Bye” and little else in between...

  "Hi."

  The word came out awkwardly, a croak of sound from her lips. It managed to be both too loud and wimpy-sounding at the same time. Not smooth at all. But it had the desired effect. He acknowledged her existence, however begrudgingly, as she cleared throat.

  "Nicole," he said with a nod. He took a sip of his champagne and went back to his spectator sport. She tried to ignore the sexy grin that spread his lips at the sight of his new girl swaying seductively. She was ready to turn away, to run after tossing out a pleasantry that she would barely wait for him to answer.

  "How've you been?" he asked her suddenly.

  Huh. A question. One he expected an answer to by the looks of his waiting glance. That was unexpected. "I've been..."

  Miserable. Lost. Half whole.

  "I've been good," she managed, still confused that he'd care, let alone bother to ask. "Doing alright, I guess. Just working on the next book. Looking after Preston here and there," she said, motioning to her little nephew, the ring bearer. "Just trying to stay busy."

  He nodded. "Same. Busy, busy. Looking forward to touring now that the album is done."

  "That's good. That's great. I'm really happy you're doing well. And I can't wait to hear your new music."

  "Thanks."

  Her skin warmed when his eyes held hers, deep and penetrating. As if he was searching for something, for her. They'd always been such beautiful eyes. Molten chocolate to her nearly black-brown. How had she ever found the strength — or was it stupidity — to turn away from this face? How could she have seen these eyes filled with tears that matched her own, seen love in them, and now stand here as if it were all a dream? Making small talk. Seeing him so guarded and cool, where once there'd always been warmth and kindness that could so quickly turn to fire and need.

  "Gabriel..."

  He looked down at her with an ironic cocktail of disdain and nonchalance, as if she were an annoying fly whose presence he'd come to accept. "Yeah?" was all the encouragement he seemed willing to muster.

  "I-I... I just wanted to say... you..."

  He quirked an eyebrow at her and she swallowed and choked on her own spit. She coughed, sputtered and looked away from the chocolate of his eyes.

  "I just wanted you to know I'm glad you’re here. That you look really nice," she managed to say through the blaze of heat that covered her skin. "It's good to see you again, doing so well."

  He did look so good. His hair was an inch longer than when she'd last seen him, truly shaggy now, but still that glossy, chestnut brown that shown healthily in the evening light. A five o'clock shadow of stubble graced his chin. She was unused to it since he usually preferred to be clean-shaven, but it didn't take away one iota from his beautifully chiseled face. It didn't hide the indent in his chin, the one she kissed sweetly so many times before. It seemed nothing could have made him look less than the image of her fantasies, especially when the ruggedness of his shaggy hair and stubble was the perfect contrast to how handsome he was in his black, tailored suit. The tie had long since been abandoned and the top buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. She could see the black cord of his necklace and a peek of the silver pendant. Her eyes were powerless against the sight of his coffee and cream-colored skin and her tongue skimmed the roof of her mouth, remembering how it tasted.

  "So do you," he said to her surprise. Her eyes snapped up to his, to the soft smile that graced his lips. He'd just given her a compliment, she realized.

  She glanced down, gave the skirt of her buttercream yellow gown a nervous tug and swish. "Thank y—"

  "In fact, you look almost as good as the last time I saw you," he whispered. "You remember the last time we were together, right?"

  It took a second for the words to register, for the heat to blaze hotter on her skin and then pulse like a heartbeat encasing her body.

  "You looked really pretty coming on my cock, sweetheart. Begging me not to stop fucking you while Travis was waiting for you to come home."

  She nearly fainted when he smiled at her, the full, heartbreaking smile that still made her pussy pulse despite
the vicious truths he spat at her.

  "Does he know I came inside his girlfriend?" he asked softly, leaning over to speak directly into her ear.

  She wished she could say she was paralyzed by shock, but that wasn't it. Her body shivered with revulsion at his words; it knew better than to stay put and take this abuse. But the nearness of him, the scent of him, his voice... It was like a vital spark she'd deprived herself of. It was like—

  Punishment.

  She'd been emotionally flaying herself since the moment he'd told her to leave and go back to Travis. And now she stood and took more well earned punishment from Gabriel, the man she loved, even now.

  "I'll take the dirty look he's shooting me right now as a 'yes'.” He pulled back just enough to look at the side of her face. "Did you fuck him that night, too?"

  She didn't dare meet his gaze, didn't dare validate the awful question with a response. Of course, he knew the answer anyway. He knew her so well.

  "No, you wouldn't have done that, not sweet little Nicole Langley."

  He gave her a soft chuckle, the evil twin of the sweet laughter she remembered. She would have given anything in that moment to hear his genuine laugh again, not this pained and bitter shadow of it.

  "So how did he find out?" he continued. "Did he smell me on you? Or maybe he just recognized that well-fucked look you have when I get done with you, little girl—"

  "That's enough!" She ripped herself backwards, knocking into someone passing by. She bit her trembling lip and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Travis was there turning his blue eyes into daggers that would have pierced Gabriel's flesh, if it were physically possible. He started to approach, then looked at her and stopped, waiting. Waiting for her to prove the loyalty he doubted since the day she screwed up her Gabriel Robert’s purge.

  "I never meant to hurt you, Gabriel. I don't know what to say or do to make it up to you..."

  He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes take a languorous dive down the length of her shaking body. He took his time lifting his gaze from her open toe stilettos, up her exposed calves, her bare knees, the full skirt of her dress, the generous curve of her hips and breasts. His deep brown eyes practically licked the bare skin of her décolletage and neck, until he was staring her dead in the face, daring her not to understand what his look meant.

  "I know how you can make it up to me, if you're really sorry. But I don't think Travis would appreciate the only kind of apology I'll accept from you."

  She wanted to be sick. Because she couldn't look away. She couldn't deny that even though she was angry, hurt, and shamed before him, she was also hungry. Starving to turn his nasty smirk into a smile of approval and desire. She wanted to make him swallow his words and beg her to finish what he’d started. God, when was the last time she'd been touched, or looked at with anything other than thinly veiled disdain by the person she was with?

  Not since that night with Gabriel. Months. It had been months since she'd been loved freely and completely.

  And what did you do? You ran scared and this was the result. You should have just stayed with him.

  Caught between an icy blue glare and a deep brown accusatory look, it seemed the dumbest thing she'd ever done in her life was hesitate when Gabriel told her he loved her that night and wanted to build a life with her.

  You're not strong enough for this... You never were...

  But something in her rebelled. Something propped her backbone up when she felt like crumbling. Something made her face him and speak firmly, like the strong woman she'd been pretending to be all this time.

  "Since you're so keen on rehashing our history, Gabriel, why don't we start from the beginning? It's only fair, right?"

  His face softened then hardened just as quickly. Meredith Rowe, the queen of the emotional quick change, would have been impressed.

  "It was you who didn't give me a second thought in the beginning. You who might not even have noticed me if you hadn't caught me in a... compromising position. You that said you didn't want to ruin anything with a real relationship, but you continued to fuck me anyway when you could fit me into your busy schedule."

  She was gaining speed now, hurtling away from the guilt. She was reminding herself why she was so hesitant to jump head first into a love she never quite believed she was good enough for.

  "It was you who let me wait for you while you traveled the world, and did whatever you wanted with whoever you wanted. Called it giving us freedom when the only person who was free was you!" she whispered loudly with a jab to his chest. "It was you who waited until someone else finally stepped up to the plate to give me what you wouldn't, what you refused to give me. You waited forever to tell me you loved me, and you kept secrets from me because that's what was easiest for you."

  His jaw clenched and she saw him swallow. It gave her courage to continue even though her field of vision was becoming glassy.

  "And let's not forget how well you took it the first and only time I let you know just how insecure and hurt I was. You forced me to show you how powerless I was against you, how much I loved you and wanted you in spite of myself that night... And even after all that, you still couldn't promise me you would be there with me till the end," she said, and her voice cracked, recalling how he'd told her he didn't know what he wanted.

  He’d said he didn't know if he wanted to commit to “forever” with anyone. He’d said he didn't know if he could, if he was good enough for her. Deep down, all she'd heard was that he didn't love her enough not to hurt her. She wasn't ever going to be enough.

  "You weren't even willing to try, Gabriel, not really. Not until it was too late."

  The truth hung in the air, thick and unrelenting, and each of them relived that angry night of sex and broken trust in the face of Meredith Rowe's manipulations. Bitter words, accusations and fear had been unleashed as a result, and she'd run from it all as soon as she was physically able.

  "Is that right, Gabe? Did I cover everything? Because from the looks of it, what I should really be sorry for is being the dumb bitch who gave you everything you wanted from the jump. I should apologize to you for being spineless, naïve, and full of hope that I was going to be enough for you if I just did things your way."

  There was a noticeable shift in his body language, a sigh that could only be categorized as regret. An apology was forming. She knew it the second his eyes lowered from their steady gaze into hers and she felt awful at once. Even after everything she'd said, she still felt like the guilty party. She'd willingly done all of those things for him, had even been willing, misguided as she was, to bend her body to what she thought his needs were, all because she let Meredith convince her she wasn’t enough. She was the fool in all of this, and yet here he was, made to feel like the big bad wolf again.

  This wasn't how she wanted this to go, but he was already speaking over the apology formulating in her head.

  "You're not dumb, Nicole. Maybe you had too much faith in me. Maybe... maybe I'm guilty of taking advantage of that, when all I ever wanted was to be good enough to deserve what you gave me. But I loved you," he whispered softly. Adamantly. "No one could ever love you as much as I did."

  There was a long pause, a moment where she held her breath, waiting. It seemed her life was made up of the moments she was waiting for him, longing for him. He started to open his mouth and say something, brought his eyes up to hers, then looked over her head and turned into the human equivalent of stone. Whatever that moment would have been before he caught sight of Travis behind her faded into ether.

  "Whatever bad blood we had between us, whatever hurts or resentments I wish I could take back, at the end of the day you have to live with the fact that you wouldn't let either one of us make amends, and be happy together. You finally had all the power, the final say, and you made the wrong choice, just like I did so many times before. We both had a shot to make it right. And we blew it."

  She didn't need to turn around. Travis' arm was encircling her waist,
pulling her into a cold embrace of ownership. Not real love. Not desire. Just a man claiming what little victory he had over the opponent who’d won the race before it even began.

  "She's all yours man," Gabriel said finally. "You win."

  He lifted himself from the wall and turned his back on her again, his words ringing in her ears like a taunt as he walked onto the dance floor.

  She couldn't speak for him unequivocally, but she had a hunch that the last thing Travis felt like was a winner.

  Welcome to the club, she thought. I don't feel like much of a winner either...

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nicole sat across from Travis, scooping up a spoonful of Cap'n Crunch and waiting for him to acknowledge the persistent stare aimed at him. For two days she'd been little more than a piece of furniture propped up in the various rooms of their home. He hadn't even grunted at her except for the night of the reception...

  They came home in silence. She reached out and touched his shoulder as he took off his suit jacket. It was a silent apology for the night of awkwardness that couldn't have been avoided by him if he'd wanted to. There was no right answer for Travis, not when Gabriel was the best man of the groom, and Nicole was the sister and sister-in-law of the newlyweds. There was no escape from worry and the unrelenting reminders of what Gabriel meant to her, the toll it had taken on their relationship. Either he stayed at home and waited to see if she ran back into his arms, or he went and suffered through a mixture of icy stares and longing glances. Either way, he was the outsider in this equation. She felt that as surely as she felt his shoulder under her shaking fingertips.

  She expected him to brush her off, to ignore her. She expected uncertainty and anger. She didn't expect him to reach up and touch her fingertips gently with his, his head drooping with a fatigue that echoed her own. She dared to move closer, to show him he wasn't alone, even if he'd spent the last couple of months feeling that way. He responded in kind by turning into her hand and kissing her palm softly, almost reverently. She'd never deserve the way he felt about her, the worship that resided in his touch even now.