Page 65 of Where She Belongs
He considers this, taking a sip of wine. “Not really. In smaller communities like Taos, there’s always talk, but it usually fades quickly. Though I did have one elderly patient suggest I was ‘robbing the cradle in reverse.’”
I choke slightly on my wine. “What did you say to that?”
“That age is irrelevant when you find the right person,” he says simply, his gaze steady on mine. “And that I’m lucky to have found someone who challenges and inspires me, regardless of birth certificates.”
The easy confidence of his response—his complete comfort with our age difference—both reassures and slightly unsettles me. “Has it really been that simple for you? Transitioning from friends to... this?”
Gabe sets down his fork, giving the question the consideration it deserves. “Not simple,” he corrects carefully. “But natural. Like recognizing something that was already there, just waiting for us to acknowledge it.”
His description resonates with my own experience—the sense that our Hawaii connection wasn’t so much new as newly admitted. “I’ve felt that too,” I confess. “Though I’m still trying to figure out how all the pieces fit now.”
“Which pieces specifically?” he asks, refilling my wine glass.
I struggle to articulate the nebulous concerns that have been circling in my mind since returning to Albuquerque. “Professional boundaries. Public perception. Practical logistics, like the three hours between us. And more personal things—our different life stages, your... reputation.”
His eyebrow quirks at the last item. “My reputation?”
Heat rises to my face, but I force myself to continue. Honesty seems crucial to navigating this transition. “You know what I mean, Gabe. You’re known for dating widely, not deeply. For keeping things casual.”
“Fair,” he acknowledges, no defensiveness in his tone. “That was true. But Andrea, those relationships were casual because they weren’t with you.” The simple declaration steals my breath. “None of them ever came close to what I feel for you—what I’ve felt for years, if I’m being completely honest with myself.”
“Years?” I echo, genuinely surprised.
“Years,” he confirms quietly. “Though I didn’t always recognize it for what it was. You were married, you were my mentor,you were firmly in the ‘admire from afar’ category. By the time you were single, I’d gotten so used to compartmentalizing those feelings that I didn’t even question why I kept showing up for you in ways I never did for anyone else.”
The revelation—that Gabe’s feelings predate not just Hawaii but my divorce, perhaps extending back into my marriage—sends a complicated mix of emotions through me. Wonder at the longevity of his unspoken attachment. Guilt at my obliviousness. And a spark of something that feels dangerously like vindication, knowing he’d wanted me even when Simon no longer did.
“I had no idea,” I say softly.
“That was rather the point,” he says with a rueful smile. “I valued our friendship too much to risk it with unwelcome feelings. And then Hawaii happened, and suddenly there was no going back to pretending.”
No going back. The phrase echoes in my mind as we finish dinner, as conversation shifts to lighter topics—clinic stories, Tristy’s honeymoon updates, plans for the weekend. No going back to the clear boundaries and comfortable patterns that defined our relationship for a decade. No going back to pretending his touch doesn’t affect me, that I don’t track his movements with heightened awareness, that the thought of him leaving for DC next week doesn’t create a hollow sensation in my chest.
After dinner, we move to the living room with fresh glasses of wine, settling on the couch with a familiar ease that belies thenew undercurrent between us. Gabe’s arm rests along the back cushions, not quite touching me but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
“How is the clinic really doing?” I ask, knowing there’s often a gap between the public face he presents and the financial realities of his practice model. “With the IRS application and everything?”
He sighs, taking a sip of wine. “It’s tight. The community health wing operates at a loss by design, but we’ve been absorbing more costs than projected. If the nonprofit status doesn’t come through...”
“It will,” I say with confidence born of experience. “Your application was solid when I reviewed it in Hawaii. The model is innovative but grounded in precedent. The IRS loves precedent.”
His smile warms with appreciation. “From your lips to the tax gods’ ears.” He pauses, studying me with that intent gaze that always makes me feel wholly seen. “But we’re not here to discuss business.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “Why are we here really?”
“This for starters,” Gabe says, his voice dropping slightly as he shifts closer, his intent clear in the way his gaze drops to my lips. “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”
The kiss, when it comes, feels like both homecoming and discovery—familiar from our time in Hawaii yet new in this context, in my home, surrounded by the artifacts of my everyday life. His hand cradles my face with exquisite gentleness, his thumb tracing my cheekbone as his mouth moves against mine with increasing intensity.
I lean into him, allowing the kiss to deepen, heat building between us as my hand finds the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. This is different from our Hawaii encounters—less frantic, more deliberate, yet no less profound. Here, in the living room where I read case studies and pay bills and fold laundry, the fantasy of island romance transforms into something more substantial, more real.
When we finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Gabe rests his forehead against mine. “I’ve been waiting to do that since I left Hawaii,” he admits, his voice rough with emotion.
“Worth the wait?” I ask, surprising myself with the teasing note in my voice.
His answering smile is slow, intimate. “Definitely. Though now I’m wondering why I didn’t drive down sooner.”
“Because we’re responsible adults with busy professional lives,” I remind him, though the responsibility I’ve always prided myself on feels suddenly less compelling than the desire to continue exploring this new territory between us.
