Page 60

I laugh without humor. “I walked in on him with his personal trainer.”

“His what?”

“Personal trainer. The woman who was supposed to be helping him exercise to get in shape. She was definitely helping him with something, but I wouldn’t call it exercise.”

Gabriel goes very still. “Did you strike him?”

I blink. Then burst out laughing. “No!”

“A pity.”

“Gabriel!”

“What? He sounds deserving.”

I shake my head. “He was. But no, I didn’t hit him.”

“Perhaps I could.”

I stare at him.

He’s perfectly serious.

“Oh my God.”

“I would find the experience deeply satisfying.”

“Pretty sure assault is still illegal.”

“Another unfortunate development.”

I laugh again. And this time, it feels good. Really good.

I can’t remember the last time talking about Derek didn’t make me want to cry or throw something.

Gabriel watches me. Then his expression softens.

“You deserved better.”

The words are simple. Quiet. But they hit me right in my tender, gooey center. My eyes sting and my nose starts to burn. I look away. “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I did.”

“You do.”

I turn back toward him.

He meets my gaze. And there’s something in his expression I don’t know what to do with.

Something warm, and almost tender.

My stomach flutters. Which is ridiculous. He’s a cursed grotesque. I’m a broke woman living in a house that’s falling apart.

We’re not exactly a match made in heaven.

Still.

For one moment, sitting beside him on the sofa, I find myself wishing things were different. That he wasn’t cursed. That I wasn’t here because my life had gone spectacularly wrong.

That maybe we’d met a different way and in different circumstances.