Page 125 of Dirty Pool

She was still wearing that over-sized sweater, too.

One she stole from his closet the night before.

Because it hid what she thought was—

“Another pound this morning,” she said.

Michel arched a brow at that. “Does that make ten, now?”

“Total, Michel.”

His gaze shifted to the cabinet in their kitchen where Gabbie kept all her diabetic supplies to manage her disease. Just as fast, he looked to the fridge where her exercise and diet plan for the next month was pinned there by a magnet.

She never diverted.

She took her heath most seriously.

“Ten pounds in three weeks?” he asked.

Gabbie gave him that look. The one that said her emotional side was about to come out and take a bite out of his stupid man ass if he didn’t cut that shit fast. Although, she’d call it shite and when he got a chuckle out of her Irish accent still showing itself after almost a decade living in New York, she’d add on that he was a feckin’ gobshite, too.

All in love, though.

And he loved her for it.

He needed that sass in his life, and her fire. Some people might raise an eyebrow at a woman like Gabbie, but he adored her most of all for her quick wit and dark humor. Not to mention, the way she sometimes showed affection.

This was not one of those times.

“Gabbie—”

“Don’t even,” she snapped, ready to turn around and leave him alone in the kitchen.

“I’m asking as a doctor, not because you think I’ve noticed the weight gain in a bad way, before you try to bite my fucking head off, here.”

She tensed all over.

Maybe that’d been a little strong.

“I have noticed it,” he added, shrugging, “but it’s not been a bad thing. I love you at two pounds underweight, or when you’re at the best you’ve ever been, and I love you like this. I will love you at your worst, too, but I would rather you not get to that point at all. Not for your weight or the way you would look, but because I fucking love you, and we both know what could happen if your diabetes goes out of control.”

The tension softened.

Michel breathed easier.

It was funny.

But it wasn’t, too.

“Something is wrong,” she said. “It’s been six years since I had a significant weight gain like this, and we know that was because I went a little off track because of everything going on with college and—”

“Something is wrong,” he agreed.

“You’re not going to ask at all?”

“Ask what?”

“If I ate like I was supposed to, or kept up my exercise routine?”