Page 63 of Angel Eyes

Twenty-Two

Juliet

On the night I met Kyle’s family, I had been the picture of composure. Girding myself with a classic black A-line dress and a bottle of his mother’s favorite Merlot, I had smiled my way through the five-course dinner without batting an eye. I even secured an invitation to play tennis at his parents’ country club before dessert was served. It had been simple, easy.

This, on the other hand, was anything but.

“You all right?” Gabriel peered down at me, a vertical line forming between his brows.

“Yes, fine.” I adjusted the neckline of my floral wrap dress. “Just a bit nervous.”

When Gabriel invited me to meet James and Nora, my over-analytical mind immediately jumped to conclusions. He’d already told me enough about them for me to know they were more like his family than friends, so agreeing to attend this dinner party felt a lot like meeting a boyfriend’s relatives for the first time.

Except, Gabriel wasn’t my boyfriend.

Unfortunately, that bit of information did little to calm my nerves as we waited outside their apartment, a bottle of Bordeaux clutched in my sweaty palms.

From the day I met Gabriel, I knew he was a kind and considerate person. But after spending more time together, I now understood there was a part of him that was guarded too, like he didn’t often let people into his life. Which is why this invitation to meet his friends felt important, like it meant something.

I just didn’t know what.

Every time I tried to convince myself I was misinterpreting things, my mind returned to the conversation I’d had a few weeks ago with that guy Cristian at the student center.

All men do relationships when they find the right person.

Was Cristian right? And if he was, what did it mean that Gabriel had said nothing about us being only friends?

His behavior certainly made me feel like what we had was more than friendship, but some part of me needed verbal confirmation too, for him to tell me what all of this—him spending time with me, opening up about his mother, inviting me to meet his friends—meant for him. For all I knew, it meant nothing, which only made the fact that I cared so much about making a good impression—cared in a way I never had with Kyle’s family—seem that much more ridiculous.

I swallowed hard as a fresh wave of nerves pounded against my temple.

“Juliet.” Gabriel’s concerned tone slipped past the ringing in my ears. “If you’re not feeling well, we can leave. I don’t want to force you through a dinner if—”

Nora threw open the door, grinning as she wiped a hand on her apron. “Gabe, right on time.” When she saw me, she brightened, tugging me into an embrace. “Juliet, so happy to see you again,” she said, squeezing me, and I blinked, smiling weakly over her shoulder. She drew back, patting my cheek. “Looking a bit peaky, aren’t we?”

“We were just discussing that,” Gabriel cut in. “We might need to take a rain check—”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving him off. “Nothing a glass of wine won’t fix.” She ushered us inside, closing the door with a slippered foot.

“Shoes there.” She pointed to a small shelf near the door. “I hope that’s all right with you, Juliet. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. Occupational hazard of being a dental hygienist in a past life. Please make yourselves at home. Dinner should be ready in a minute.” She disappeared down the hall, and I moved to follow her just as Gabriel closed a hand around my arm.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, frowning in concentration. “You do feel a bit warm. Maybe I should take you home.”

“Don’t be silly. We can’t bail on your friends. Besides, I doubt Nora will let us slip away without a fight.”

“You let me worry about Nora. Just promise me you’ll tell me if anything is wrong, okay?”

Nodding, I took his hand, letting him lead me down the hall and into an open-concept living space. I peered around, taking in the overstuffed sectional and upholstered ottoman arranged around a flat-screen TV. A long-legged man with a crop of red hair—James presumably—was stretched out on one of the sofas, a beer in one hand, the other tapping his knee nervously.

“Oh, come on, ref,” he barked at the screen as a group of men ran around a soccer field.

“Manchester having a bad night?” Gabriel said.

“The bleeding ref can’t see for shit. Maybe if he took his balls out of his back pocket—”

“Hey,” Gabriel said, grimacing. “Maybe tone down the language. There’s a lady present.”

“Nah.” James waved a hand, slumping against the cushions. “Nora’s heard it all before.”

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