Chapter 7
Friday became another Friday.
Then a Sunday breakfast.
Then midnight coffee.
Then an argument outside a restaurant because Gabriel instinctively told a man to move when he stood too close to Claire.
“I can handle someone standing near me.”
“He was drunk.”
“He was breathing.”
“He was staring.”
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
“You don’t own the air around me.”
He looked genuinely confused.
That made her angrier.
“I spent my whole life being managed.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Sometimes control wears protection’s coat.”
That stopped him.
Claire immediately regretted the sharpness.
But Gabriel nodded.
“You’re right.”
She stared.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Argue.”
“Why?”
“Because normal men argue.”
“I’m not normal.”
She burst out laughing.
The fight ended with coffee.
Their first kiss happened six weeks later.
Not against a wall.
Not in rain.
Not after danger.
It happened in Claire’s kitchen while she was wearing fuzzy socks and trying to open a jar of pasta sauce.
Gabriel took the jar.
She glared.
“I can open it.”
“I know.”
“You’re doing it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Control issue.”
“Glass jar.”
“Same disease.”
He opened it.
She took it.
Their hands touched.
Neither moved.
Gabriel’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
Claire froze.
Then a familiar voice inside her head began speaking.
Too big.
Too soft.
Too much stomach.
He’ll regret seeing you naked.
She stepped away.
Gabriel immediately did too.
No question.
No wounded pride.
No reaching after her.
That somehow hurt worse.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“I thought…”
She pressed a hand against her forehead.
“I don’t know what I thought.”
He leaned against the counter.
“You thought something made you want distance.”
“Yes.”
“Then distance was correct.”
Claire looked at him.
“Doesn’t that frustrate you?”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m very frustrated.”
She laughed then.
He smiled.
The tension broke.
Claire put the jar down.
“My brother used to tell me men only flirted with women like me when they wanted to win bets.”
Gabriel’s smile disappeared.
“My father said anybody who married me would eventually cheat because men needed a woman they weren’t ashamed to introduce.”
Gabriel’s hands tightened around the countertop.
“Don’t.”
She pointed at him.
“I know that face.”
“What face?”
“The I-am-imagining-seventeen-illegal-things face.”
“Only twelve.”
“Gabriel.”
He relaxed his hands.
Claire took a breath.
“I’m telling you because when you look at me…”
Her eyes watered.
“I don’t always know how to believe what I see.”
Gabriel remained where he was.
“What do you see?”
“A man who wants me.”
“That’s accurate.”
She swallowed.
“And I hear them telling me it can’t be.”
Gabriel nodded.
“What do you need from me?”
Claire thought.
“Time.”
“You have it.”
“And no speeches about me being a goddess or a queen.”
He looked disappointed.
“I had several prepared.”
She laughed through tears.
“No worship.”
“Fine.”
“I want to be a woman.”
“You are.”
“Complicated. Irritating. Sometimes insecure.”
“Frequently irritating.”
She threw a dish towel at him.
He caught it.
“And,” Claire continued, “if we do this, I don’t want gratitude confused with love.”
Gabriel’s face became serious.
“You don’t owe me anything for that warehouse.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
“Good.”
He placed the dish towel on the counter.
“Then I’ll say this once.”
Claire waited.
“I wanted you before I helped you.”
Her breath caught.
“I respected you after I learned what happened.”
He stepped closer but did not touch her.
“And whatever happens between us begins after both of those things.”
Claire stared at him.
Then she kissed him.
Briefly.
Awkwardly.
Her nose bumped his.
Gabriel smiled against her mouth.
“Do not laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
She kissed him again just to shut him up.
A year after the warehouse, Claire bought a house.
Not a mansion.
A two-story brick home forty minutes from downtown with a maple tree in the front yard and a kitchen that needed renovation.
Gabriel hated the plumbing.
Claire loved the windows.
She bought it in her name.
Only hers.
Gabriel attended the closing but signed nothing.
Afterward, Claire sat alone on the empty living room floor.
Sunlight stretched across scratched hardwood.
She held the keys and cried.
Gabriel found her there.
He did not ask why.
He sat beside her.
For twenty minutes, they said nothing.
Finally Claire whispered, “Nobody can make me leave.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“No.”
“Nobody can tell me I only have a roof because they allow it.”
“No.”
She pressed the key into her palm.
“I thought owning a house would feel bigger.”
“How does it feel?”
“Quiet.”
May you like
He nodded.
“Quiet is underrated.”
