Page 10 of Where She Belongs
“Gabe and I are staying in the suite.“ The words feel both terrifying and liberating as as I grab Gabe’s arm as he reaches us, sending up a silent prayer that our decade of friendship has given him enough context to read between the lines.
“Share what?”
“The suite,” I say, my smile so wide it hurts. “You know, the executive suite that you and I will be staying in for this trip.”
I feel Gabe’s arm tense under my grip and for one horrible second, I think he’s going to expose my lie. Then his expression shifts from confusion to understanding to something else.
“Oh, you meanoursuite?” His voice drops an octave as he pulls me close. “Yes, absolutely.” He turns to Simon, and I swear the temperature drops ten degrees. “Why? Is there a problem?”
“I thought you booked your own room,“ Simon says, his smirk faltering. “These resorts are perfect for your conquests. One more notch on the bedpost.”
“Notches are so last century,” Gabe says, his arm sliding around my waist with practiced ease. The gesture feels both familiar and shockingly intimate—like crossing a line we’ve spent ten years avoiding. “I’m a changed man, thanks to this amazing woman.”
I should feel guilty about dragging him into this, about compromising my stance on being enough on my own. But watching Simon’s smugness crumble, feeling Gabe’s solid presence beside me, I realize that sometimes being strong means knowing when to accept help.
“Are you two really...?” Simon’s voice trails off, stripped of its usual condescension.
“Dating? Yeah, man, we sure are,” Gabe says, tucking me closer with an easy confidence. “Why? Is that a problem?”
I can feel Simon’s eyes boring into us, as if trying to pierce the façade we’re so hastily constructing. “I just find it... interesting that after our discussion about coming alone, you’d bring a date after all, Andrea.”
“You brought one,” I point out, shifting my gaze to Kitty and then back at Simon. “So why can’t I?”
Simon glares at us for a long time before his practiced smile slips back into place. “How long have you been seeing each other?”
I steal a glance at Gabe, wondering how far he’s willing to take this charade. Every word we speak is a gamble, a bet against Simon’s ability to call our bluff.
“Three months,” Gabe says, and I have to bite back a smile at how naturally he plays along. He doesn’t miss a beat.
I half-expect Simon to call us out, to say something that will dismantle the ruse and leave us standing there, exposed. Instead, he just stares, his hazel eyes flickering with a mix of doubt and something deeper, maybe even a grudging respect for our audacity.
“Three months, huh?” His eyes narrow at Gabe. “Interesting timing, considering you’ve been hanging around our family foryears. Teaching Tristy soccer, showing up at holidays, always there for every crisis.”
Gabe’s arm tighten around me as he catches Simon’s meaning. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His voice is quiet but carries an edge I’ve never heard before.
“Just finding it interesting how close you’ve always been to my family.” Simon’s smile is razor-sharp. “Makes me wonder if maybe this... development isn’t so recent after all.”
Suddenly a high-pitched scream breaks through the tension. “OH MY GOD, Mom! Are you serious? You and Gabe? For real?”
As Tristy looks at both of us, I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Actually, yes, we are.”
Before I can continue, my daughter grabs me in a hug, laughing while Gabe and Tyler do their manly victory ritual of fist bumps and shoulder pats.
“I’m so happy for you both,” Tristy says as a flight announcement blares through the terminal, drowning out what she says next. I steal a glance at Gabe, hoping he’s okay with our new development, but he’s deep in conversation with Tyler, his expression unreadable but calm.
“I’m glad you’re okay with it,” I say as she steps back and studies me.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, all this time?—”
“I didn’t want to steal your wedding thunder,” I say. “Besides, it’s still new. Who knows what’ll happen?”
Her expression turns serious, more conflicted. “Did he at least wait until the divorce was final? I mean, you two have been friends forever.”
“Of course he waited.” My stomach does a weird flip at the lie, knowing that we’re layering deceit upon deceit. “Nothing happened until it was appropriate.”
“That’s so romantic,” she sighs, then grins. “You do know he’s, like, ten years younger than you, right?”
“Why? Is that a problem?” I almost tell her that her stepfather’s girlfriend is younger than her but I don’t. No sense in stating the obvious.
