Page 67 of Forever & Always You
Hand on my hip, Austin guides me away and I am all too happy to follow. My emotions are so heightened, I have to blink hard to fight the sting of tears that threaten to fall. We make a hasty departure from the ballroom and back into the elevator, though we are accompanied by some guests and their luggage, so Austin and I stand together in silence. As we head down the hall toward our suite, I squeeze his hand and try to pull him to a stop.
“Austin .?.?.”
“Shh,” he says.
“Can I just—?”
“Shh.”
Austin releases my hand as he fumbles with the keycard for the room, then holds the door open for me. It’s dark out and the lights of downtown Charlotte shine through the large windows, casting an ambient orange glow over the suite. I reach over for the light switch, but Austin steps in front of me, cups my face in both hands, and looks me straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and my brows knit together in confusion. “I’m sorry my mom made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry you had to defend yourself again.”
And his blue eyes are so beautiful in the dim light that it breaks every single part of me because his mother didn’t say a single thing that I didn’t already know myself. My chest heaves and I shatter into sobs, collapsing forward against him, smearing makeup into his pristine white shirt. “But she’s right, Austin,” I whisper weakly, my voice barely audible. “Idon’tdeserve you.”
“Oh, Gabby, c’mon,” he says into my hair, his lips brushing the crown of my head, “you know that’s not true.”
I tear myself from his chest and look up at him through wet lashes. “That time you said I’m a loser by choice? You were right. I can claim immaturity, but I knew the entire time growing up that I was a terrible person. When I lost my dad, I thought: thisis it. This is my karma. And Iwantedto suffer. So I quit school, sold my car, moved into the worst apartment I could find and cut off my social circles. I’ve been punishing myself for years, because I don’t deserve .?.?.” I blow out a breath as my lower lip trembles. “I don’t deserve an easy life, Austin. And I definitely don’t deserveyou.”
Austin grabs my shoulders and lowers his head to draw his gaze level with mine. “Gabby, you told my mom you want to make me happy,” he says, his words entwined with exasperation. “And you do. You make mesohappy, Gabrielle, you have no idea. I want you, with all your quirks and flaws, because you’re the girl I fell in love with when I was a kid, but also not that Gabby at all. You’re all of the good parts and none of the bad, and I wish .?.?.” He shakes his head hard. “Damn it, how I wish you’d see that, too.”
The walls feel like they are closing in around me, sucking all of the oxygen out of this hotel suite, and I suddenly feel so claustrophobic that I spiral into panic. I stumble back from Austin, my eyes squeezed shut, my hands in my hair. My breaths are harsh and ragged as I fight to regain control.
“I feel like .?.?. I can’t breathe,” I rasp. “I want out of this dress. And these .?.?. These shoes.”
Austin’s hands find my waist and he holds me steady until I stop fidgeting. With a delicate touch, he unzips my dress and helps me step out of it, then guides me to sit down on the edge of the bed. He sinks to his knees on the floor and unstraps my heels.
“Is that better?” he asks quietly, looking up at me as he wraps his fingers around mine.
But all I can focus on is my reflection in the mirror behind him, and I hate the straight hair and the heavy makeup. I tear off the strip lashes and claw at the ends of my hair. “I want my curls back.I want my curls back.”
Austin thinks for a moment, then rises from the floor and scoops me up off the bed. Naturally, I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries me effortlessly into the bathroom. He sticks an arm into the shower cubicle and turns on the water, and I give in completely as he sets me down and the water cascades over me like a waterfall. I squeeze my eyes shut, collapse back against the wall. The water is steaming hot and incredibly soothing and it’s exactly what I need to get a grasp on all of the thoughts racing through my mind.
Austin shrugs off his jacket and rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, then reaches for the shower head and rinses my hair for me. He stands at the edge of the shower in his tux, completely unfazed that he’s getting wet, too. His hands are so gentle against my scalp as he works them through my hair and I have never felt as safe with someone as I do right now in this moment with Austin. His eyes are soft, his expression tender, and my heart swells painfully in my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper, watching him in admiration from beneath the cascade of water.
His smile is so gorgeous I can hardly bear it. “You’ve been fighting for my forgiveness this entire time,” he murmurs, “but what you really need is to forgiveyourself, Gabby. Please stop punishing yourself for past mistakes that you’ve already learned from. You’re allowed to be happy. Your father wouldwantyou to be happy.”
He attaches the shower head back onto the wall and steps fully under the water with me. His shirt clings to his chest, highlighting every contour and muscle, and he sinks to the floor and leans back against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest. I mirror his actions, sitting down opposite him as the water flows through the center of us.
After a while, Austin says, “Are you?”
I tilt my head in confusion, watching him through the streamof water. “Am I .?.?.?”
“Are you really falling in love with me?”
“No,” I say, and Austin flinches with disappointment. I stretch forward and reach for his hand, interlocking it with mine. “I’m not falling in love with you, Austin. Iamin love with you. It makes my stomach hurt. It’s this painful knot that squeezes tighter and tighter, and sometimes I feel it in my chest, too, and—”
“Move in with me,” he interrupts, the words spilling from his mouth as he sits fully upright.
“What?”
“Move in with me,” he repeats, slower this time, with weight. “Don’t stay in Durham. I hate only seeing you on weekends. I want to wake up to you in my bed in the mornings and I want to come home from work to you in the evenings, but fuck, I also want you to get that Duke degree.” He runs his free hand down his face in frustration as beads of water drip from his hair.
“You can’t ask me to move in with you after two months,” I point out, shaking my head at him in disbelief as my heart ricochets in my chest, because I so badly want to sayyes, yes, yes.
“I can when I’m this in love with you,” he counters, lifting his head to look at me again. He squeezes my hand harder. “Because I am, Gabby. I’m in love with you, too, but if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t really think there was ever a time I wasn’t. So, it’s not two months. It’s sixteen years of knowing you.”
