Page 47 of Where She Belongs
“Mom! There you are!” Tristy appears at the edge of the dance floor, slightly breathless. “We’re doing the champagne toast in five minutes, and Tyler’s mom is looking for you for that photo she wanted.”
Reality crashes back with startling force. We’re still at the rehearsal dinner. My daughter is getting married tomorrow. This is neither the time nor place for life-altering confessions or relationship revelations.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her, straightening my dress, hoping I don’t look as thoroughly kissed as I feel.
Tristy’s gaze shifts between us, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Take your time,” she says with a wink. “But not too much time. The photographer wants everyone together.”
As she disappears back into the crowd, Gabe catches my hand, his expression turning serious. “We’ll talk more later,” he says. “After the wedding. No pressure, no expectations. Just honesty.”
“Honesty,” I repeat, the word both terrifying and liberating.
He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Go be with your daughter. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
As I make my way back to the main reception, I can’t help but feel I’m walking toward more than just a mother-daughter dance. I’m walking toward a future suddenly full of possibilities I hadn’t dared contemplate before tonight.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, the thought of what might come next fills me with anticipation rather than dread.
The suite is quiet when we return after the rehearsal dinner, the only sound the distant crash of waves against the shore. I kick off my heels with a sigh of relief, padding toward the bedroom in stockinged feet.
“You were amazing tonight,” Gabe says, loosening his tie as he follows me. “The way you handled Simon, the way you danced with Tristy... everyone could see how proud you are of her.”
“I am,” I agree, pausing at the bedroom door. “She’s going to make a beautiful bride tomorrow.”
“And you’re going to be the most beautiful mother of the bride anyone’s ever seen,” he counters, his smile teasing yet sincere.
The compliment warms me, but it also reminds me of the reality of our situation. Tomorrow is Tristy’s wedding day. I’m the mother of the bride. I need to be present, focused, rested—not distracted by whatever is evolving between Gabe and me.
As if reading my thoughts, he takes a deliberate step back. “You should get some sleep,” he says. “Big day tomorrow.”
“You too,” I reply, though neither of us moves.
The air between us feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. After our dance floor confession, after that kiss, it would be so easy to take the next step. To invite him into the bedroom, to lose ourselves in the physical expression of what we’ve been circling for so long.
But it wouldn’t be right. Not tonight. Not with tomorrow looming so large.
“I’ll take the sofa bed,” Gabe says finally, breaking the tension. “You need proper rest before tomorrow.”
Relief mingles with disappointment. “Are you sure? After last night?—”
“Last night was different,” he interrupts gently. “We were both caught off guard. Tonight...” He pauses, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. “Tonight, I’m not sure I could just sleep beside you, Andie. Not after that kiss.”
The honesty of his admission sends heat flooding through me. “Gabe?—”
“After the wedding,” he says firmly, though his eyes betray the effort this restraint is costing him. “When we’re back home, when there’s no audience, no charade. That’s when we figure this out.” His smile turns rueful. “Besides, I believe Tristy mentioned you have a 6 AM call time in the bridal suite.”
I groan, remembering the extensive beauty regimen my daughter has scheduled for both of us. “Don’t remind me.”
“All the more reason for you to get some real sleep,” he says, reaching past me to grab a pillow from the bed, his body close enough that I catch the lingering scent of his cologne. “I promise the sofa bed is perfectly comfortable.”
“Liar,” I say, but I’m smiling.
He shrugs, his own smile widening. “A gentleman never admits to discomfort when a lady’s honor is at stake.”
“My honor?”
“Well, your rest at least.” He hesitates, then leans in to press a gentle kiss to my cheek, so close to the corner of my mouth it makes my breath catch. “Goodnight, Andie.”
“Goodnight, Gabe.”
