by Lindsey Hart
Gabriel is on his back, his face serene. His mouth is gaping open, and he’s snoring softly, but even that is oddly attractive. No, maybe not that. I’d use the word endearing if it weren’t so dangerous. He’s not endearing. That would imply he’s special. Lasting. That we have something. That something about him means something to me.
The little tug in my chest, which feels like a shard of glass is stuck in there, tells me otherwise. Okay, whatever. So he’s growing on me. It’s good. That’s a good thing. Natural chemistry will help sell this.
I stare at Gabriel’s dark lashes. They’re resting on his cheek very sweetly. He’s a big guy, and I didn’t think the word sweet could apply to burly and broad guys, but yeah. He’s sweet. Funny. Nice. And charitable, since he’s doing this for me.
Before I can consider it further, I hear the clang of a frying pan hitting the burner downstairs. I ease gently out of bed, deciding to let Gabriel sleep.
I pull my hair into a messy bun and tie it with the elastic I left around my wrist during the night. I don’t stop to check myself in the mirror. Whatever. I know I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, but also whatever. I’ll change later after breakfast. I don’t want my fresh clothes to smell like bacon and eggs.
After freshening up in the downstairs bathroom, I walked into the kitchen with thankfully both my parents there. “Hey, mom. Dad. I…well, I have something to tell you before you say anything. The toilet upstairs? I forgot to tell Gabriel it was broken and he might have used it last night. Errr…I’ll call for a plumber as soon as they open. He’s really embarrassed about it.”
Mom is wearing a floral blouse and a pair of jeans so ancient and mom-like that they’re trendy again. Dad is dressed up today in a nice polo shirt and also a pair of jeans. He upgraded from the usual, holey t-shirts he loves so much. Mom can’t even throw those things away because he’ll just dig them out of the trash and pitch a fit and then return the new ones she tried to buy for him. I’ve seen it happen. Four times. Eventually, Mom just gave up.
“Oh shit,” Dad curses. He grabs the landline phone off the island. Yes, my parents still have a landline. They have cells too, but they are barely functional at using them.
“Literally,” Mom adds.
“Don’t worry, I’ll call. They should be open right away. If not, I’ll leave a message that it’s urgent. I think the parts are just broken in the tank. If they fix those, the thing should flush.”
“I seriously hope so.”
Mom turns and, while cracking two eggs into the pan at once, gives me a sympathetic, slightly guilty look. “Toilet aside, we’re slightly embarrassed about embarrassing you yesterday, sweetie. We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to.”
“We just worry,” Dad adds without looking up. He’s got the phonebook out now, and he’s browsing through the plumbing section. “We want you to know we love you and really do care about you.”
“We just want you to be happy.” Mom gets out the pack of bacon from the fridge.
Even though I feel a massive pang of guilt, I also feel the old twinge of annoyance. “But I can be happy being single. I wish you could understand that and not worry so much.”
“We get that.” Dad runs his thumb down the list of tiny printed names and numbers.
Mom walks by the counter to my dad. She takes the phonebook and flips a few pages over. “Plumbers, my love. Not electricians.”
“Take it easy on this old boy. It’s early.”
“Anyway, honey, we know you can be happy when you’re single, but we want you to find the same happiness we’ve found. Not the same, but you know. We think having a partner and a family is important.”
“But it’s not the only way to be happy!”
“We’re not worried about that,” Mom corrects gently. Her face is suffused with love, which makes it impossible to doubt the intent behind her words. “We’re worried the bad experiences from your past have soured you on giving anyone a chance for the future.”
“But I brought someone home.” I can’t help being testy even though I can see how genuine Mom is. I’m not trying to be mean, and I manage to keep a flat tone and not whine or snap. “It’s great,” I tack on. “Gabriel is amazing.” At least that, from what I’ve seen so far, is true. “I’m just saying, sometimes things don’t work out, and I don’t want you guys to be disappointed or worry. It’s…it’s a little bit oppressive sometimes.” There. That’s the closest I’ve got to telling them the truth about how I feel.
Of course, they don’t get it. “Did something happen?” Dad asks. He glances up in alarm.
“Did you guys argue?” Mom somehow manages to flip the bacon while intensely scrutinizing me.
“No. No. Both of you. I’m just saying.”
Mom just nods while Dad picks up the phone and dials a number. I go and take a seat at the table Mom already set. A few minutes later, I’m literally bombarded with bacon, eggs, toast, avocado, olives, hot peppers, sauce, and my choice of beverage.
I manage to get mom to sit down and eat too. A few bites in, Gabriel walks shyly into the kitchen.
“I overslept,” he apologizes sheepishly, and he slides into the empty seat right beside me. Mom and Dad are across the table. He leans in and gives me a chaste, super sweet, super hot (in more than one way, though the temperature of his lips is deliciously warm) kiss right along the jawline, by my ear.
I nearly drop my fork. “Morning,” I gasp.
Gabriel turns flawlessly, totally unaffected, to face my parents. “First things first, I have to apologize and tell you that I…well…I ruined your toilet.” There. Now he’s a little red in the face again.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already called for a plumber,” Dad says around a mouthful of eggs.
“Eat, for goodness sake,” Mom frets like Gabriel just crawled in from a thirty-day hunger strike. “Don’t worry about it at all.”
“It’s our fault for not fixing the dang thing.”
“It is indeed.” Mom picks up the casserole dish of eggs and shovels half of it onto Gabriel’s plate. He just sits there and lets her.
“No, Really. With the wedding to get ready for and everything else, I’ll deal with the plumber. I’m sure you both have places you need to be,” Gabriel says. God, he’s so thoughtful. I hadn’t even begun to think about all the things we have to do today, and I’m the freaking maid of honor. Not the best one, obviously. “And I’ll pay for it. I was the one who broke it.”
“It was broken before.” Dad’s so nonchalant. “There might be lots to do, but there’s time.”
“We won’t hear of you paying for our mess up,” Mom insists. “Now, eat. The bacon is delicious.”
“Maybe I should fast instead.”
It takes a minute for Gabriel’s joke to sink in, but then we all laugh. I don’t even realize my left hand is resting on the table beside my barely touched plate until Gabriel’s amazing, strong, slightly calloused, and manly hand slides over to rest on top of it. Normally, I hate hand-holding. I think it’s kind of gross, and I hate that hands get clammy and damp. That fingers are slightly weird, and all of me tend to get crushed in the herculean grip guys naturally have and don’t even know it. Not Gabriel, though. Of course, his hand would be just freaking right. Not damp. Not clammy. Not grasp-y. Not overpowering. It’s. Just. Right.
I want to pull away. But I don’t.
“Once the plumber gets here, we can start our crazy day. Susan should be here in an hour or so, so it will all work out just about perfect.” Mom is ever the optimist. Nothing ever gets her down. I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever seen her well and truly pissed off about anything.
I wish I’d inherited just a little of her temperament. Or my dad’s. Dad really never gets too upset about anything, either.
“I’ll help with whatever needs doing. Stick me where you will,” Gabriel says cheerfully.
His hand leaves mine, and it sucks. I wish he wouldn’t pick up his fork. I wish he wouldn’t eat. I wish, comp
letely irrationally, that I had something to disappoint my parents about. Legit. Or not. No, that’s not what I wish. I wish Gabriel’s hand kind of, sort of, belonged to me, and that I could take it any time I wished, and he’d be okay with that. I wish. Because his hands are kind of nice, and I kind of liked it.
I kind of liked it a lot.
CHAPTER 11
Gabriel
“I’m seriously bushed!” Pearl collapses onto the end of the bed in the guest bedroom so hard that the brass bedframe actually moves a few inches to the right and the headboard bangs against the wall. “Shit!” She glances at the wall guiltily. “How do you have so much energy? You’re like, endless or boundless, or something. I’m seriously impressed. Not only did you help us set up and decorate all day, but you also met both my grandparents and my aunts and uncles and my cousins and family friends, and Dean.”
“Technically, I already knew Dean. Kind of. And I learned that your last name is Dale. That’s helpful. I nearly messed up yesterday when we got here.”
“And yours is?”
“Wickert,” I answer before I can think of a lie. I guess I’m too honest. I just hope Pearl will be too busy this weekend with the wedding tomorrow and then distracted by driving us back to Seattle the next day to do any online sleuthing.
“Wickert. Somehow, that suits you.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, though. Are you not exhausted?”
“I was a couple of hours ago,” I admit. “But I thought showing it would look like I wasn’t excited to meet the massive amount of your family that rolled into town. Seriously, how is the one hotel here going to accommodate everyone?”
“Oh, they’re staying a half-hour away in another small town. Remember how I said the closest hospital was there?”
“They’re okay to drive after the reception?”
“If not, they’ll just camp out in my parent’s backyard or something. Or my dad will drive people back even if it takes all night. He’s just like that.”
“Let me know if I can help. We could double up. I could drive one car, and he could drive another and give me a ride back.”
“Really? You’d do that? You seriously don’t have to do that. Oh, I almost forgot! I have your money. It’s in my bag.”
I wave it off. I still haven’t collected the envelope from Pearl’s glovebox in her car, and of course, I have no intention of doing it. “It’s fine. I trust you. You can just give it to me all at once. Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and besides, I think I might have eaten two thousand dollars worth of food since yesterday.”
Pearl grins. “I know. That’s Mom. She cooks for an army every single time. She’s in her element right now. She was really disappointed when Susan wouldn’t let her do the catering. She said there was no way she wanted to stress Mom out like that, but of course, Mom doesn’t see it that way.”
“The hall’s food is probably good. The place was pretty nice.”
Pearl raises a brow at that. “What? For a little town?’
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
She keeps smiling, and damn, I’d do just about anything to keep it there. If I thought she was gorgeous before, Pearl’s smile could power a small country. “I know. I was kidding. Anyway, we should get some sleep. I have to be up early tomorrow. I have to get to Lisa’s house since Susan and the rest of us are getting ready there. We’ll be back here around one-thirty. The ceremony is at two. I just hope Chase makes it. I don’t think having his stag the night before the wedding is a good idea.”
“Lots of people do that, unfortunately.”
“I know. And I’m sure there are lots of hungover grooms who don’t enjoy their wedding day because they feel like death and a half.”
“I didn’t realize you could do death halfway.”
Pearl smirks at me. “Then, you’ve never been properly hungover before.”
“Touché. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Neither am I. Well, anyway, you’re going to be left here tomorrow from about eight until the time the wedding starts. Mom and Dad will be here, so just ask them if you need anything. And don’t hide in the room all day. You can go out and make yourself at home. They’ll expect nothing less.”
“Wake me up this time.” I stretch out with my arms above my head, working the kinks out of my shoulders. “I guess if we go to sleep now, seeing as it’s midnight, we’ll be able to get up in the morning just fine. And I promise not to break any more toilets.”
“To be fair, you never broke it. And it was an easy fix. The guy just came and replaced a part in the tank.”
“I know. I was there. Watching and praying that he wouldn’t look inside.”
“Oh. Dad met him out in the driveway and told him all about the big nasty inside. That’s why he didn’t look until he’d done a few test flushes.”
“Christ,” I groan.
I hit the light so Pearl can’t see me blushing again. Jesus. Remind me never to take a poop outside of the privacy of my own house. I think holding it until I burst would have been preferable to the toilet incident last night and this morning. Or not if you really think about it.
Pearl giggles. I can see her moving around, pulling back the blankets. The sheets and quilt rustle as she slides below. She lets out a half contented, half exhausted sounding sigh, which, of course, makes me wonder what her sounds of pleasure would be like. They’d be perfect. I know it. I know a couple of other things too. One, I’d like to be the one to help Pearl make those noises. And two, I’d like to make some noises with her.
Just not in her parent’s house.
Just not ever, because she’s not my real girlfriend.
We did too much handholding and making eyes and little chaste brushes up against each other here and there today. It was all for show, at least on her part. On mine, I have to admit that it wasn’t all for show. Okay, none of it was. Every single time I got near Pearl, I felt like I’d just rocketed into another universe. Her universe. The universe of Pearl.
It’s a universe I’d like to land in and live in, not just pass by fleetingly.
But maybe that’s for another lifetime, for just another time. It’s sure as hell not for now.
I fumble in the dark to find my pajama bottoms before shedding my jeans and tugging them on. Pearl, I notice, is jammed up tightly on her side of the bed, right next to the edge. She’s left me most of it now that she knows I’m a back sleeper.
I basically fall into the bed, but no matter how tired I am, I can’t sleep.
I don’t hear Pearl’s deep breathing either, which means she’s probably awake too.
“Are you still awake?” I ask, just to check.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “You?”
“Yup.”
“I just keep worrying,” Pearl whispers. “That…uh…that tomorrow we’ll have to really sell this, and I’m not sure we’re prepared. I mean, I just learned your last name, and you just learned mine. Maybe we should go over some basic facts about each other.”
“We did just meet. According to what I overheard you telling your parents today.”
“Yeah, I know, but still. I have to sell this to my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, the whole lot. I can’t drop the ball on this. Not now, when we’re halfway done.”
“What would you like to know?”
“I don’t know. Did you grow up in Seattle?”
“I did.” I purposely skimp on those details because those early years before Mom met Ted aren’t worth talking about. “And I have one brother.” She already knows that, although I know from what her friend, Dean, mentioned, they both assumed Sebastien was just a friend. “I have a Degree in Computer Science. That’s all there is to know.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“I’m twenty-eight, so that’s good. Not too much of an age gap.”
“Would that matter?”
�
��No. Not really. I…no. Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“What?”
Pearl sighs so hard that the walls probably shook a little. “Nothing. I…just nothing.”
“You can tell me.”
“It’s just that…I…errr…well…we’re probably going to have to be affectionate tomorrow. People will expect it for sure.”
“That kiss wasn’t enough for you?”
“It’s not that. I’m just saying. Maybe we should practice one more?”
“If that’s what you want, I can do that. And then we should both get the hell to sleep. I don’t have to look chipper tomorrow, but you’re in the wedding party. You’re going to be immortalized in photographs forever.”
“Thanks. Because I wasn’t nervous enough.” Pearl’s tone is dryer than parched dust. Okay, just dust, I guess, since isn’t that the definition of dust?
“Should I turn on the light?”
“No. Just a quick kiss. In the dark.”
“Alright. If you’re certain.”
“Just do it.”
Pearl sits up abruptly, and I follow suit. My eyes are well adjusted now, and it’s easy and natural for my hand to find her jawline. It’s even more natural for me to guide her face gently to mine and for me to bend my face to hers.
The kiss is the most natural thing at all. The second our lips brush, something clicks into place. It’s like the world was just…off. My whole life. And now it’s not. It’s definitely…on, on right.
“Oh god,” Pearl moans. Her hands tangle in my hair, and my fingers find her long silky strands and do the same.
We attack each other’s mouths until we’re breathless. When we pull away, my entire body is cold from all the chills running down my spine. I’m not exactly sure how it works because my blood feels like it’s boiling. I feel electrified from my toes all the way to the roots of my hair. I wonder if it’s standing on end, like how people’s hair gets when they touch one of those static ball things. I’m about to say something snarky about definitely not being able to kiss her like that because I doubt tonsil hockey is appropriate for public consumption, especially when the said public is Pearl’s family, but Pearl speaks first.