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“Hey, it’s okay. Honestly.”
“No, it’s not. But we don’t ever need to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? Because if you did, I could—”
“Hey.” He started to reach toward her, but the tight way she was holding herself made him hesitate. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” One of her shoulders rose in a shrug. “Because I’m living a lie. Because it’s funny. Because it’s so fucking weird.”
“Jesus, Veronica. That’s crazy. I don’t think it’s funny or weird.”
“It’s a little funny,” she insisted. “You know it is.”
He thought of her confession and ducked his head to hide a smile. “Okay, I admit I’m intrigued by the ‘pretty much’ part.”
She groaned, but when he glanced up at her, he noticed that her hands had relaxed. She wasn’t gripping her arms nearly as firmly now.
Gabe leaned against the door frame. “I haven’t said a word to anyone and I never will. I swear.”
“Okay,” she said, squeezing herself tight again. She looked tired.
“I just got off work. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”
She shot a look toward her kitchen. “Kind of.”
“Kind of? Is that like ‘pretty much’?”
“Shut up,” she said, pouting a little now. He noticed that her lips were full and pink even without lipstick.
“Come to dinner. We can have a drink and talk.”
“Nope. I never want to have a drink or talk again.”
“Food, though?” he pressed. “Food sounds good?”
Her head dropped. She took a deep breath. “I’m not even dressed.”
“You look dressed to me.”
“I’m wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt.”
“Throw on a hoodie and you’ve got a look. Let’s go.”
She finally cracked a smile, though she tried to hide it. Gabe ducked down and met her eye. “Come on. You’ve got to eat.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on leaving the house today.”
“Why?”
She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. “Because I didn’t want to take the chance I’d run into you.”
“Well, shit, I really screwed that up. No wonder you didn’t want to see me. I’ve ruined everything.”
“You’re a dork,” she muttered, but this time there was no hiding her smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and her gaze rose to his. He suddenly remembered the way she’d leaned close and whispered the word fucking to him the night before.
Gabe stood straighter and cleared his throat. “What sounds good? Mexican?”
“Oh, God, yes.”
“Mexican is always good after a hangover. Come on. My treat.”
