Page 27 of Bad at Love

“Well, no, but…” I clear my throat, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Do you want me to bring it back? I will. It’s your house and if you’re not okay with it…”

He blinks a few times, just staring at me. I have no idea what he’s going to say, but eventually his shoulders sag and he says, “You can keep it.”

You’d think he was talking about a pet I found on the side of the road with the way the words come out. Like the grill may carry rabies or pee on his carpet, but he’ll give it a chance.

“You wanna come outside and see it?”

His hand tightens on his messenger bag and he glances upstairs before looking back to me.

“Let me put my stuff away first.”

I grin, moving out of the way so he can go up the stairs and do his thing. Once he’s at the top, I call out, “I’ll wait right here!”

I get no response. I wasn’t sure how he would react to all this, but he’s taking it better than I expected. It’s been nearly three weeks since I’ve been here, and in that time, I’ve learned a lot about him. I haven’t changed my ways entirely, but I’m trying to respect him the best I can. It’s not all that difficult either. Seems this type of life isn’t so bad.

Though, I was invited to a destination wedding that’s coming up soon, and there is no doubt there will be some serious partying there. There aren’t many people I consider friends, but Dominic is one. I never thought I’d see him settle down, not after the life he lived. Him and I have hooked up… both before and after he was with his fiancé. It wasn’t a cheating thing, it was a threesome and it was hot as fuck. They’re both adult content creators too and have somehow made a relationship work. Their platforms are flourishing. Apparently people love watching couples do their thing. I never would have thought that, but people surprise you sometimes.

Gabe comes downstairs a short time later, changed out of his “work” clothes and into day-to-day clothes, which consists of khakis and a t-shirt. The guy looks hot in anything. I wonder if he knows that?

We head out the front door and around the back, where I proudly show off everything I bought.

“Oh my god…” he mutters, taking in everything that’s back here. I can’t tell if he’s happy or pissed. Nothing about his face tells me how he’s feeling.

“Well, what do you think?” I move deeper into the yard. There is a tall fence around the perimeter, and a large tree in the back right corner and a few bushes on the opposite side behind the shed. “If we’re going to grill out here, we need a place to sit and eat.” I gesture to the outdoor dining table and cushioned-chair set. It’s dark brown and cream—safe colors—with an umbrella that fits through the table. “But also, if we want to just hang out, we need chairs that are a little more comfortable.” I move to the lounge chairs that are set up around the fire pit—also a new purchase. “And this is top of the line. Super safe,” I say about the fire pit because I thought that would be the issue, not the stupid propane tank.

Gabe takes his time looking over everything, taking every little thing in. After five whole minutes, he still doesn’t say anything and I’m officially scared for my life.

“Talk to me, Gabe, ‘cause I’m freaking out a little. Are you mad or what?”

“This looks…” I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me he hates it and that I better take it all back. I will, if he wants me to. It’s his house. Though, I really hope he doesn’t because I love having a backyard that I can lounge around in. “Really good.” He blows out a breath, smiling. Holy shit, he’s smiling.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. This is… wow, Storm. This is really great.” He moves to the lounge chair, pointing to it. “May I?”

“Of course, yes! Please do.” I hurry over to it, shifting it a little so it doesn’t wobble in the grass.

He sits, leaning back and closing his eyes as he smiles up at the sky. It’s a true smile. A content one. He looks joyful and relaxed. So I get comfortable on the one beside him, and we just sit together in silence until it gets dark.

“Thank you for getting all of that. I hope you know when you leave, you can take it with you.”

“You trying to kick me out already?” I question, and he chuckles. He actually chuckles.

“No. Surprisingly, I’m not.”

Gabe locks the door once we’re inside and we go to the kitchen.

“Do you need help with dinner?” I ask.

Frowning, he says, “We’re not quite there yet,” and it’s my turn to laugh.

“Well, we’ll have to be there within the next few days because I bought meat to grill, and I don’t want it going to waste.”

“I think I can handle that.” He nods firmly. “How about Friday?”

Unlike breakfast, dinner is not the same every day of the week.

“Friday is good.” I grab the bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge and pour myself a glass.

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