Page 112 of The Billionaires' Gamble
Something about the single word and the way he doesn’t look at me or elaborate puts my senses on alert.
36
GABE
No, I’m not where I thought I’d be.
Once upon a time, in my mid-twenties, I found myself looking at my best friend and wondering if he could be more.
We got on better than I could have fathomed. There was never any of that weird masculine posturing between us. We talked or didn’t. Kept an eye on each other. Helped each other.
A few years later, I was convinced he was my person.
The single human that was put here to keep me sane. To be my confidant. To have my back, just like I had his.
And I was convinced that, given enough time, he’d come to feel the same way about me. That he’d start to look at me as not just his friend but his everything.
By thirty, I realized he was not only happily straight but decidedly single. Which makes his lengthy but covert interest in Katherine intriguing, even as it slowly needled me.
Respecting him meant I pushed my feelings down, threw myself into more projects, and promised myself that was enough. Because honestly, the only thing we’re missing is sex. Right?
In many ways, we’re ‘together.’ And that seems like enough for him.
It has to be enough for me.
So no, I’m not where I thought I’d be. Not by a long shot.
“How do we fix that?” Alex asks.
Is it just me, or is his voice sort of gentle? Like he’s trying not to spook me.
Too late. I’m already spooked. It’s hard to sit still right now.
To be this close in a silent, beautifully decorated and serene space feels intimate. Almost like it’s willing us to expose the secrets between us.
Except, those secrets aren’t really between us like an inside joke so much as between us like a canyon.
“We don’t,” I answer with a shrug. He’s Mr. Fix-it, but Doctor Morales reminded me of some hard truths. “Sometimes we don’t get everything we want, and that’s okay.”
His eyes widen in surprise.
That’s the thing about dreams and goals and desires. They change. They’re almost designed to change. And while I’ve been laser-focused on a few things, I’ve pivoted along the way.
“I like my life too. Our life,” I parrot his earlier words.
How could I not love this life? It’s a dream come true.
Whenever I feel restless about not getting what I want, I remind myself to take a breather and remember all I have to be grateful for. Such obvious advice, but I forgot it somewhere along the way.
“Never thought I’d hear the day where Gabriel Rothburn doesn’t get everything he wants.”
I grunt at that. “Me either.”
And I’m arrogant enough to admit it’s a bitter pill to swallow. But you can’t make someone love you. Or desire you. And maybe it’s time I accept that.
No.
It’s past time I accept that. Like a decade later.
