The wine has made us both looser. The conversation shifts and becomes lighter. We talk about things I haven’t thought about in years. The time Gabriel’s cat knocked over an entire bookshelf in Philip’s study. The summer I broke my arm trying to climb the oak tree in our backyard. The weird phase Audrey went through when she was six and insisted on wearing her skeleton costume everywhere.
“She wore that thing to the grocery store,” Gabriel says, laughing. “Claire tried to get her to change, and Audrey cried for an hour.”
“She wore it to my baseball game,” I add. “Coach asked if she was there to scare the other team.”
Gabriel’s laugh loosens something in my chest I didn’t know was tight. It feels good to catch up with him like this, and I’m starting to think it was stupid to avoid him for so long. The years we missed feel like a waste now, and I’m not even sure why I did it. Maybe because it was easier. Maybe because he always made me aware of myself in a way I didn’t know what to do with.
I glance over at him. He’s looking more relaxed now, the tension in his shoulders gone. The light is golden on his face, catching in his eyes and turning them amber.
He clears his throat and sets his glass down on the small table between us. “I… didn’t give you the entire reason I’m here.”
I straighten up, the levity of the moment shifting. “Okay.”
He doesn’t look at me, keeping his eyes on the garden, on the fountain in the distance that’s cracked and dry. “I was in a relationship for a while. And it ended badly.”
“How badly?”
“Turned out he lied to me.”
I wait, letting the silence stretch. My stepbrother isn’t the type to spill everything at once. He needs space to get there.
“He was older,” Gabriel continues, his voice quieter now. “Married.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Gabriel.”
“I know.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I know.” He finally looks at me, and there’s something raw in his expression that makes my chest tighten. “I’m not proud of it.”
“What did he tell you?”
Gabriel lets out a sharp, bitter breath. “That he was separated from his wife. That they barely lived together. That he was planning to divorce.”
“Don’t you know that’s what all adulterers say?”
“I know. I’m an idiot.” He reaches for his glass and drains the rest of his wine in one go. “I’m always falling for the wrong guy.”
The way he says it, sad and resigned, makes me wonder how many times this has happened. How many times has someone taken advantage of him, lied to him, broken his heart? The thought is so unpleasant, and the intensity of it surprises me.
I suddenly want to cross the space between us and pull him into a hug. The urge is so strong I have to grip the arms of my chair to keep myself rooted.
“It’s my fault,” Gabriel says. “I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve questioned what that scumbag was saying to me.”
“Yeah, you should have,” I say, and his eyes snap to mine. “But it’s not entirely your fault. He’s the one who lied. He’s the one who made promises he had no intention of keeping.”
Gabriel holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see something shift in his expression. “Thank you. It’s been a while,” he adds. “We should’ve done this sooner.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s good to see you.”
He nods, then looks down at his hands. “You’re the first person I’ve told. About the relationship.”
That surprises me more than the confession itself. Gabriel’s always been private, but I didn’t realize he’d kept this completely to himself. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell our parents, though.”
“I won’t. And I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it.”
