Page 58 of Where She Belongs
“Are you okay?” I ask, shifting to look down at her face. She’s lying with her eyes closed, her breathing slowing to normal.
“More than okay.” She opens her eyes to look up at me. “It’s just... a lot.”
Her expression is troubled, and I feel a flicker of unease. Is she having regrets? Or just overwhelmed by the magnitude of what we’ve done?
“What are you thinking?” I ask cautiously.
She sighs, reaching for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. “I’m thinking that I can’t go back to just being friends.”
I exhale slowly, feeling the knot in my chest loosen. “Me neither.”
She pulls me closer, wrapping her arms around me. “I guess it’s best we figure this out in the morning.”
“That’s a good idea.”
As she presses her head against my chest, I try to ignore the fear lurking in the back of my mind. Fear that we can’t make this work outside the fantasy bubble of Hawaii. Fear that we’ll burn too bright, too quickly, and snuff each other out.
Fear that everything I thought I couldn’t have—the closeness, the intimacy, the absolute certainty that I belong with her—was never really meant to be mine.
But I push the thoughts aside, choosing instead to focus on the woman in my arms, even if it’s just for tonight.
SEVENTEEN
The Hawaiian sunrisefilters through the curtains we forgot to close fully last night, painting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. I blink awake slowly, aware of Gabe’s warmth beside me, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm in the quiet morning air.
For a moment, I simply lie still, absorbing the reality of where I am—in bed with my best friend, my colleague, the man who’s been a constant in my life for a decade.
Last night changed everything between us. After ten years of friendship, of carefully maintained boundaries and professional distance, we’ve crossed into territory from which there’s no returning. And despite the risks, despite all the reasons we shouldn’t have taken this step, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I shift slightly, feeling the pleasant soreness in muscles I haven’t used this way in far too long. Gabe’s eyes are already open,watching me with an expression so tender it makes my chest ache.
How long has he been awake? How long has he been looking at me like that—like I’m something precious, something he can’t quite believe is real?
“Morning,” I say, my voice husky with sleep and the remnants of last night’s intimacy.
“Morning,” he replies, his voice warm and deep. “Sleep well?”
I stretch, feeling the soft sheets slide against my bare skin. “Better than I have in months,” I admit, and it’s true. Even during the worst of the divorce, I never slept as deeply as I did in Gabe’s arms. “You?”
“The same,” he says, and something in his tone makes me believe him.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, the intrusion of the outside world unwelcome in our private cocoon. I reach for it reluctantly, checking the display.
“Everything okay?” Gabe asks, and I can hear the slight worry in his voice.
“My parents,” I explain, showing him the text. “They want to meet for breakfast. Apparently they have news to share.”
“Sounds important.”
“Everything is important to them,” I say, making no move to leave the bed. Not when there’s something we need to address first, something that can’t wait, even for my parents. I turn to face him fully, gathering my courage. “Gabe, about last night?—”
“Do you regret it?” he interrupts, anxiety flashing across his features so quickly I might have missed it if I hadn’t known him so well.
“No,” I say firmly, reaching for his hand beneath the sheets. His fingers are warm, strong, slightly calloused from his weekend home renovation projects. “Not at all. Do you?”
“God, no,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice. “Last night was...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right word. “Perfect.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “It was, wasn’t it?” But there’s more we need to discuss, practical matters that can’t be ignored. “It’s just that we haven’t really talked about what happens next. About us, about where this goes from here.”
