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“We can come back later and look at it. Once it’s hardened somewhat, we can decorate it, if you want.” She grins. “Maybe a hot pink polka dot look?”
“Very my style,” I joke.
We spend another hour in the shed, making differently shaped items and gently working the muscles and ligaments in my left hand. In the end, we have a set of matching bowls and mugs that Gabi promises we will decorate tomorrow. More wrist exercises.
“Hey, listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she says as we stand in the entryway a few hours later, after we’ve eaten some pizza and listened to that Mumford and Sons record again.
I put on my jacket and zip up the front then wrap my scarf around my neck, sensing a bit of nervousness from Gabi.
“Okay. Is it about where I got this scarf? Because this is a Patty Mitchell original.” I pose then shift and pose again.
Gabi laughs and rolls her eyes, swatting at my chest, which I take as an opportunity to tug her in against me. “No. Although now I’m jealous and desperately want a Patty Mitchell scarf.”
I hum and press a kiss to her lips. “Maybe I can talk her into making you one for Christma—”
“Will you be my date to an exhibit this weekend?”
She blurts it out, and I can’t help but get the feeling she thinks there’s a possibility I might say no.
“It’s in San Francisco, and I have two pieces that will be on display, and originally I was just going to go alone but I think I’d really like for you to come. As my date.” She pauses. “If you want.”
I’m unable to hide my excitement, both at being asked to join her as her date and at this amazing professional step I know a younger Gabi wouldn’t have taken. Not in a million years.
“Your stuff is going to be in an exhibit?” I ask, pride swelling in my chest. “Gabi, that’s incredible.” I bring her in closer, wrapping my arms around her waist so she’s snug against me. “I would love to be your date. I would love nothing more than to be your sexy arm candy while you walk around, listening to everyone compliment you on how amazing you are.”
Gabi giggles quietly against my chest, and I feel the tension inside her ease slightly.
“Really?” she asks, leaning back and looking up into my eyes. “You don’t have other stuff going on?”
“Even if I did, I’d cancel it. This is a big deal, right?”
She licks her lips and nods.
“Then the only thing I want to be doing is whatever I can do to support you. Just tell me where to be, when we’re leaving, and if I need to buy a new little black dress.”
Gabi laughs, and then I tug her in again, pressing my lips to hers.
A night in San Francisco supporting the woman I love? I can’t imagine anything sounding better.
When we arrive at the Sixth House Art Museum, I can feel Gabi still vibrating with nerves. She’s been slightly distracted during our drive and as we checked into our hotel, but I’m used to that from the past. Gabi’s responses become shorter when she’s nervous, her mind floating out in the ether, sorting through things she doesn’t want to put to words.
Even though we used to go on long drives together through the winding mountain roads and never be at a loss for something to talk about, our three-hour drive into San Francisco is mostly silent, with only Maggie Rogers playing over the speakers. Usually, I try to make Gabi laugh as a way to help ease some of her tension, but today, it felt like the wrong call.
Today, I let her take all the time she needed to process whatever she’s going through in her mind so she can feel mentally ready for the event.
“Hey,” I say as I shift into park in front of the valet.
Gabi looks at me and I reach over, squeezing her hand.
“It’s going to be great. And I know you don’t need me to tell you that, but I wanted to anyway. You’re amazing, and everyone is going to be able to see it.”
Her lips tilt up, and she squeezes my hand as well. But then she gets out of the car without saying anything and rounds to the back to begin unloading her stuff.
Once we’ve gotten everything and I’ve handed the keys over to the valet, we head inside. Almost immediately, someone calls out her name.
“Gabriela! Oh my gosh, I’m so excited you’re here!” a blonde woman enthuses, her shoes clacking loudly on the hardwood floors as she crosses toward us.
I can literally hear Gabi take a deep breath and let it out long and slow just before the woman envelops Gabi in a hug. When she pulls back, she has a wide smile stretched across her face.
