Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Don’t drop this one at the bottom of the sea.
S
The joke is in poor taste, but I find myself smiling anyway.
I take it out of the box. It’s the same pretty rose gold as the original phone and the same numbers are programmed.
I check the time. It’s almost noon on the East Coast. I program the number for Clear Meadows and ask the receptionist for Melanie. She connects me a few minutes later and I ask if it’s a good time to FaceTime Gabe. I can hear the smile in her voice and a few moments later, using Melanie’s cell phone, I’m looking at Gabe sitting in the community room with a smock on that has paint smeared all over it.
“Gabi!” he calls out and I see his finger coming toward the camera. I guess he’s trying to touch my face.
“Gabe! It’s so good to see you!”
“What happened to your face?” he asks.
I touch my bangs, push them down to cover the bandage.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just fell down. You know how clumsy I am.”
“You’re not clumsy.” He peers closer, the camera showing me just part of his eye and nose for a moment. “You’re hurt,” he says, his expression so worried, it breaks my heart.
“I’m okay, Gabe. I promise. It’s just a little bump.”
He just sits there studying me for a moment and his expression is almost like it used to be. Like he used to be.
But then it’s as though he suddenly remembers something and shifts the phone to his knee where there’s a scrape covered by a band-aid.
“I fell too, Gabi. We have matching band-aids.”
I smile when I see his face again. “How did you fall?”
“I tripped when I was running.”
Melanie comes into the picture. “We had a rainy day and the minute we could get outside Gabe went charging, didn’t you, Gabe?”
“Yep,” Gabe says. “But it doesn’t hurt. Are you coming for lunch, Gabi?”
“Not today, Gabe, but soon, okay? I promise.”
“Tomorrow?”
Crap. “Not tomorrow, no, but soon. It’ll be a surprise!”
“You used to come visit me more.”
“Gabe, why don’t you show Gabi your painting?” Melanie asks, saving the day because Gabe gets a proud smile on his face and a moment later, I’m looking at a large canvas of mostly smeared paint in all different colors.
“It’s modern,” Gabe says.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. I think about what Alex said in his last message about wondering if he’ll ever be able to talk to Gabe without breaking down afterwards. I wonder the same thing.
“This one is for Alex,” he says, as if reading my mind. “But I’ll make you one next.”
How am I going to tell him that Alex is gone?
“I can’t wait to see mine!” I say, my enthusiasm overdone.
We talk for another five minutes, but I can see Gabe getting distracted as he picks up his paint brush again and, after a promise to FaceTime him again the following day, we disconnect the call.
Miss Millie must have been waiting for me to wrap up because no sooner have I put the phone down then she’s outside serving dinner. Tonight, there is a whole roasted chicken with potatoes and green beans.
“This smells wonderful,” I say, inhaling. “But it’s a lot of food just for me. Is Stefan going to be home for dinner?”
Home. The word weirdly sounds more and more normal.
“He’ll be here later tonight, after dinner. You just eat what you like.”
“You know you don’t have to wait on me,” I tell her.
“I like it, Gabriela. It’s my pleasure. I’m just happy you’re home safe and sound. Now go on and eat. Let me know if you need anything and make sure you save room for dessert. I made you something special.”
My smile is authentic. “I will, thanks, Miss Millie.”
I eat on my own. I eat more than I think I will but that’s probably because the last few days, I’ve been eating so little.
When I’m finished, I go into the library, take a book off one of the shelves and curl up on one of the armchairs.
I’m so absorbed in the story that I only realize three hours have passed when I hear footsteps approaching and sit up, closing the book.
It’s Stefan.
The library door opens, and he stands in the doorway.
My heart thuds against my chest as I look at him. He’s wearing a black V-neck T-shirt and jeans. His thick hair is perfectly in place, and the dark shadow on his jaw accentuates the sharp line of it.
I look at his big hand on the doorknob and see that ring and I think about what he’s done with those hands. The violence he did to those men. The gentleness with which he held me.
My gaze lifts to his forearms, the muscle beneath the dusting of dark hair. Something stirs inside me. Inside my belly. It’s like a fluttering of butterfly wings.