Page 33 of If You Stayed

“Have a great day,” he said as he turned to exit the bakery.

“Gabriel,” I called out.

He looked over his shoulder, his brown eyes piercing my heart. “Yes?”

“Can you ask me again? Ask me how I am.”

He turned completely toward me. “How are you, Kierra?”

“Overwhelmed and a little sad.”

He slid his hands into his stained coat pockets. “I’m sorryto hear that.”

“Thank you.”

He took a step toward me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No,” I whispered and shrugged, feeling the tears building back up in my eyes. I didn’t know the last time I’d told someone the truth about how I was feeling. I was so used to being the strong one. To being the one who was always good, that I didn’t even know I was allowed to say out loud that I wasn’t okay. Until Gabriel gave me that freedom. “I just needed to say that out loud.”

“I understand.” He stepped closer. His brows lowered. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

My mouth parted and I wanted to say yes. I wanted to wrap myself in his embrace and hold on to him tightly as he told me everything would be okay someday. Because I knew who Gabriel had been in the past, and I was quickly learning who he was in the present: comfort. He was and always would be comfort to me.

But I wasn’t the same girl I’d been when I met Gabriel. Holding on to another man when I had a husband of my own felt wrong. I even felt bad for the coffee and muffin.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you, though. Thank you for asking me again.”

He brushed a thumb against his chin. “Thank you for being honest. It takes a lot of guts to be that honest.”

8

Gabriel

Is it okay if I hug you?

What in the absolute fuck was I thinking asking Kierra such a question? It was beyond bizarre and out-of-the-world inappropriate. It was even inappropriate for me to ask her to eat a damn cinnamon muffin with me.

I should’ve been a bit embarrassed, too, seeing how I waited around the bakery for her the day prior, but she never showed up. That had felt like a gut punch for some reason. I stood there like a goofy fool, holding a bag of muffins, hoping a married woman client would walked through the doors in search of said muffin.

What was even more humiliating was the fact that I did it again that morning. When she arrived, I felt even more batshit because a pool of giddiness hit the pit of my stomach. That was until I saw her break down into tears.

I wouldn’t blame myself for the tears she shed, but they still broke my heart as I watched her fall apart. And I did want to fucking hug her, okay? I wanted to hug her for so long and notlet go, if she was crying or not. My mind still couldn’t make sense of why I felt that way.

There was just something about her that felt so familiar. I haven’t had something feel familiar to me in what felt like two decades. Since my accident, truthfully. Other than my mother, everything and everyone felt distant. Most days, it felt as if I was walking through a fog. Passing by people and places that felt so black and white. But Kierra felt like color. Not just any color, either. The most vibrant of tones, which made my heart pound wildly in my chest.

That wasnotokay.

I came down hard on Ramona for drunkenly talking to Henry about sex toys, and there I was, soberly daydreaming about Kierra.

I wondered what was overwhelming her and making her sad.

I bet it was that fucker Henry.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t a fucker toward me, but he was a fucker toward her, which made him a fucker to me. What kind of man went ahead and made all the choices on a home, giving his wife a meditation room to shut her up, instead of adding her input? How did he not involve her in the plans? How had she not seen the blueprints when we were about to break ground? And why, oh why, did it rub me the wrong way?

I wasn’t one for relationships, but if I had been and I had a wife, I’d want her involved. If I was married to Kierra, I’d want to know all her thoughts on it. Heck, I currently wanted toknow all her thoughts.

Why did I want to know all her thoughts?

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