Page 18 of Claiming What Is Mine

Gabe puffs his chest, pleased to hear someone acknowledge his intentions. “That’s right. I was only trying to help.”

“Well, what can I get you to drink?”

“Coffee for me. Black—with a side of pie,” he says, as if choosing dessert for lunch is something to be proud of.

Mollie smiles as she jots our order on her pad. “What kind of pie would you like? We have—”

Gabe holds up his hands. “Pecan, please.”

“Okay, then—pecan it is.” Mollie turns back to me. “Do you need a few more minutes, hon?”

“I guess I’ll have the…” Quick Meredith, pick something. Anything. “The chicken salad sandwich.” Could that have been a more random selection? But hey, why not?

“Sure thing.” Mollie sucks in her bottom lip. “Now, I want to be sure you know, that is made with mayo. Not Greek yogurt. Is that still gonna be okay?”

“I didn’t know you could make it with anything besides mayo,” I admit, caught off guard by the clarification. “Mayo is alright by me.” If I skip the ice cream tonight, my diet will be fine.

“Okay then, I’ll be right back with your drinks. Did you want that pie now, or wait until her sandwich is ready?” Mollie asks Gabe.

“With her sandwich. Thank you.”

She hurries off, returning soon after with our drinks before moving down to check on the patrons in the next booth. I poke my straw against the table, freeing it from the paper wrapper. “We need to talk about what happened.” I steel myself for his reaction.

To my surprise, Gabe doesn’t flinch or protest. He simply smiles, looks deeply into my eyes, and says, “I know what you’re saying. And I get where you’re coming from. All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind.”

“Uh, okay? Where am I coming from?”

“I hurt you.” Gabe takes a deep breath. “That doesn’t begin to do justice to what I did. I know that. I’ve known it for years. I was selfish and arrogant and…wrong. Yeah, it was a long time ago, but you’re no average cookie. You’re smart, and sweet, and special. And I can only assume something pretty bad happened to get you to move back home—especially considering the way your parents treat you.”

I’m stunned to the point of speechlessness. I wasn’t sure what to do with Gabe’s words the night of the wedding, but now? I haven’t had so much as a drop of booze to distract or dull my senses, and his words continue to drip with honesty and insight. “I…uh…”

Gabe grins. “What? Surprised that I can be a serious adult?”

“Why would you say that? It’s not like you ordered pie for lunch or something totally juvenile like that.” I playfully kick at his leg under the table. “Now, as far as the first part of your statement is concerned, flattery will get you everywhere. Please go on, Mr. Wilde.” I smile.

“Right. See. Exactly. I get it. You think I’m not what you need. That’s why I’m asking you to keep an open mind. As for the pie…” Gabe sits proudly in his seat. “I’ve always been a man who follows his own path. There’s no point denying that.”

“I agree completely. If memory serves however, it was that same confident sense of self that had your entire future planned out. And mine too, sort of. Though the word ‘planned’ is a bit generous to describe the amount of attention my wants and dreams received. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? In your infinite wisdom, my future had to be crammed in along the edges and corners of yours. Isn’t that what ended up breaking us?” I tap my finger on the table, satisfied with my ability to bring the conversation back to my talking points.

“Mer—” Gabe places his rough hand atop mine, igniting a wildfire of goosebumps along my arm. “I hear you. You’re right. No argument. I’m only asking for the chance to show you I’m sincere.”

Gabe runs his thumb along my knuckle and my entire being focuses on that one point of contact. Forget talking points. Forget ancient history. All that matters is the way I feel when he touches me. The look of longing in his gaze as he searches my face.

Thankfully, Gabe releases my hand—and my thoughts—when Mollie returns to the table with our food. Seasoned fries spill off the plate when she sets my sandwich in front of me. Yum. I expected a small dollop of chicken salad globbed into a smooshed white bun, but am surprised by a generous portion evenly spread across a toasted baguette topped with healthy amounts of crisp lettuce and tomato. “Wow, this looks amazing,” I say as she places a monster slice of pie on the table in front of Gabe.

“I hope you enjoy it. And I gave you a little extra pie, but—you have to promise you’ll tell your brother Mollie says hello.” She looks to Gabe, who’s busy salivating over the treat in front of him.

Gabe finally looks up. “Deal. Just tell me which brother.”

Mollie puts her hand on her hip and lifts her chin. “Why, Hank, silly.”

Gabe and I glance at each other. “Hank?” we ask in unison.

“Yeah. That man couldn’t have been more adorable at the reception. The way he danced with my niece, Vanessa, on his feet, spinning her around like a fairy princess. She was on cloud nine for the rest of the night. There’s something special about that one.” Mollie winks.

“Oh I agree.” Gabe nods to the waitress as she walks away, then leans across the table. “But I suspect our definitions of special may vary.” He lifts a heaping forkful of dessert to his mouth, carefully navigating it in. He leans back against the booth, resting his fork-hand on the edge of the table while a smile spreads over his face, savoring the sweet and crunchy goodness of the bite. “Mer, you have to try this.” He cuts another too-big-for-the-fork portion and hefts it in my direction.

“I’m good, but thanks. I’m not much of a sweets person.” That empty pint of Ben & Jerry’s I tossed into the trash this morning would beg to differ.

“Since when? I remember a girl who liked anything and everything sweet. Ice cream, s'mores, jelly beans, even Sour Patch Kids now and then.” Gabe raises a finger with each item he rattles off.

“Well, I guess that goes to the point I tried to make before. A lot can change about a person over the years. Maybe you don’t know as much about me as you’d like to think, mister.”

Without hesitating, like he had been studying for those words to show up on a quiz, Gabe pulls a response out of nowhere. “You are so right, Doll. So. Right. All I’m asking is for the chance to show you how much I’ve grown. How much I’ve changed. While I learn about all the ways you’ve changed. If you don’t like sweets anymore, that’s okay by me. I just need to know, so I can cross that off my list and find out what you do like, now.”

Damnit.

For every point I make, Gabe comes back with the perfect response. This ‘not date’ was supposed to be my chance to stand strong, but he’s melting me.

Why can’t he just be an asshole and help me out a little?

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