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There really was nothing so interesting about my ceiling that it deserved this much of my attention, but here I was. Sitting on my sofa, staring up at the white paint with stupid, repetitive thoughts swirling around in my mind. It didn’t matter how hard I tried: I just could not stop thinking about Gabe Walker. The look in his eyes when he’d kissed me on the forehead a few nights ago, his voice, soft and gentle, when he’d said, “Thanks.” The talk with Zara hadn’t helped, either, because here I was trying to run away from the whole idea and she was dragging me right back, showing me what could be possible, if only I was brave enough. But that was just it. I wasn’t brave enough. I couldn’t risk my heart again, and that’s all there was to it. End. Of. Story.
My video doorbell chimed, making me jump. “What the fuck?” I whispered to myself, putting my hand over my chest to calm my racing heart. It was after nine o’clock, who the hell would be visiting me now? And when did I get so old that nine was late? Fuck.
When I swiped the app open on my phone and pressed the button, my heart went from racing to full on pounding, and elation surged through me. Gabe. Standing at the front door. With flowers. My first instinct was to rip the door open and pull him inside, so of course, that urge had to be suppressed. I wiped the smile from my face, replacing it with a frown. Distance, goddamit. That’s what this situation called for. No matter how hard it was to do. Pressing the speak button, I said, “Yes?” My tone was cold and formal. Good.
“Allegra, it’s Gabe. Can I come in?”
The smart thing to do would be to say no, maybe come up with an excuse, lame or otherwise, but the man was standing there with a big bunch of what in the hazy video looked like tulips. I fucking loved tulips. Asshole. “I guess.”
Less than a minute later I was at the door. I pulled it open, felt that urge to throw myself at him, because fuck, did he look good. Dark jeans, tight white shirt under a sports jacket, his dark hair all mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. Which made me think about runningmyhands through it. I swear to god, if he’d been wearing his glasses, I would have burst into flames. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Wondering if I should take the flowers from him as I stepped back to let him in, I suddenly thought,Shit, what if they aren’t for me? Maybe he’s on his way to see someone else, and dropping in for some inane reason, like to talk about the work at the farm.I frowned again, annoyed at how needy and pathetic I was being.
“These are for you.” Theyweretulips. Lovely, perfect tulips in pale pink, yellow and purple.
“Um, thank you.” I took them, my frown deepening because I was really, really touched.
He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I just wanted to drop in, give you these, and say thank you.”
“For?”
He looked at me for a moment, a slight crease between his brows. “For looking after Jesse the other day. I can’t stop thinking about how much worse it could have been, if you hadn’t been there.”
I turned away, heading into the kitchen. “How is he?” Where the fuck was a vase? I started opening random cupboards, trying to remember when I last used a vase.
“He’s fine. I’ve got him a watch he uses to text me, and, you know, I keep repeating the instructions not to leave the school by himself.”
“That’s good. Where is he now?”
“At Bruce and Ellen’s. He’s having a sleepover for grandkid night.”
“It’s great that he’s comfortable enough to join in.” Ah, there it was. On the top shelf of the cupboard above the fridge. Great. I was going to have to pull out the step ladder. Without a word, Gabe reached up and pulled it down for me. “Thank you.” Once I had the tulips in water, I put them in the middle of the dining table. They looked so lovely, which of course pissed me right the fuck off. “I suppose you want a coffee?”
“I don’t think so, not if it comes with that attitude, thanks.”
Whomp. I deserved that, and the very fact that Ididdeserve it made me feel like crying. Why was I being such a bitch? “I’m sorry. Would you like a coffee?” I didn’t look at him as I moved back into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine.
“Do you think we can work this out?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Allegra…” I flicked him a look, but his expression was carefully, politely neutral. “Our best friends are married. There’s no way we can avoid seeing each other. But I realize that makes you uncomfortable, so I’d like to know if we can find a way to make it easier for you.”
Jesus fucking Christ, he was just sodecent.So honorable. So mature. Blowing out a breath, I pulled a coffee mug from the cupboard above the machine and placed it carefully on the counter. “I just don’t like the way I look, through your eyes.” My voice was small, with a hint of shame to it. I heard him move closer behind me, allowed his scent to wash over me.
“How do you think you look through my eyes?” The tenderness in his voice pulled at my heart, dragging my gaze to his. I saw nothing but confused sweetness there.
I shrugged. “I dunno. Rude. Bitchy. Obnoxious.”
He stared at me for a long moment, myriad emotions flickering in his eyes. Then he raised his hand and with infinite gentleness, brushed his knuckles down my cheek. “Not even close.”
Oh. I swayed toward him, placing my hand on his chest, mesmerized by what I saw in his eyes. I wanted, desperately, for him to kiss me, but he held back, holding my chin in a light grasp, gazing at me steadily.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low.
Such a loaded question. I felt like I was standing on the top of a cliff, on the very edge of falling. Plummeting. Crashing and burning. Or…flying. Yes, I could take the leap and fly. If only I was brave enough. “Yes,” I said, before I could second guess myself.
