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“I almost don’t want to tell you.” He rolls his eyes and I frown as he pulls out of the parking lot. “That little fucker next door came over…” I can tell he’s gritting his teeth because his jaw is taut and the sexy cut of his jawline makes me want to run my tongue along it. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says handing me a piece of paper.
Brandon, again?
“He asked for your number but I told him no.”
I snap my eyes away from the paper and look at him. “You did?” A smile pulls at my lips at the thought that while Brandon probably saw it as protectiveness, it was actually more possessiveness.
“I wasn’t going to give him your number. If you want him to have it, you can give it to him.”
He leans away from me and rests his head against his door even as he weaves through traffic. Now why on Earth would I do that? Wow, a jealous James is fucking hot.
“Did you tell him that I have a boyfriend?”
His eyes snap to mine quickly before going back to the road. “No? I didn’t know that I could? I mean, we hadn’t talked about what we’d say…” He trails off.
“Well, it’s the truth.” He looks at me again and I smile. “You’re jealous?”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it immediately. He opens it again and lets out a sigh. “Gab, don’t give me a hard time. This is different and I told you I’d have some trouble navigating it. You’re you. The same you. But at the same time you’re also someone completely different. So yes, when some young guy that’s not your brother wants to ask you out and your mother and his mother and even fucking Monica are all jumping up and down cheering for it, I’m going to be fucking jealous. Because how in the fuck am I supposed to let him know that you are mine?”
I shudder at his words. “I am yours. I’ve been yours for a long time. I would never allow anyone to think differently.” I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh before giving it a squeeze. “I’m so in love with you I can’t think straight most days. Literally, I’ve spent actual days thinking about you and me and us and trying to make sense of these very wrong yet very real feelings I have for you. You’ve been the center of my life for years and you think some guy I was never interested in to begin with has the power to turn my head? What, because he’s interested? James, guys have been interested. For years. And yes there were times I may have been interested as well, but none of them ever held a candle to you. I never thought you’d actually become an option for me. And now you are and…I don’t want anyone else. Even now, you hold so many of my firsts because all I ever wanted was you.”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Gab,” he murmurs.
“Do you want me to tell him I have a boyfriend? That I’m seeing someone in New York?”
“No because that will somehow get back to Mom and she’ll be all over you.” That’s true. Mom and Monica would have a million and one questions.
“I’ll take that over dealing with a bunch of awkward interactions or trying to ward off his attempts to change my mind after I tell him I’m not interested.”
“Can’t you just not call him?” he says shooting me a look as he pulls into the grocery store parking lot.
“I wouldn’t call him anyway. What am I, old?” A smirk finds my face and a giggle forms in the back of my throat.
“Gabrielle you know what I mean.” He shoots me a look as he turns off the car. “Can you just ghost him via whatever communication?”
“Fine, but he’ll probably come back again,” I tell him as he opens the car door for me. “Thank you.” He says but I can still hear the annoyance in his voice. I bump his hip with mine and I reach for his hand without thinking. I can sense his discomfort and I frown when he drops my hand completely.
“You’re really that annoyed about it?” I ask him. “Don’t be such a brat. I’ll ghost him!”
He turns to look at me just before we walk into the store. “Gabrielle,” his voice lowers and he leans down so that we are at eye level, “we’re four and a half minutes from our house. I’ve never gone into this grocery store and not seen someone we know. The store manager plays golf with Dad from time to time. We cannot hold hands in here.”
My lips form an O as realization dawns on me. I slap my forehead. “Oh my God, duh.”
“I always want to hold your hand and every part of you. Don’t forget that.”
