Page 90 of Where She Belongs
“So,” Dax says, settling into one of the comfortable armchairs that cluster around the fireplace, “you two look like you’ve sorted things out.”
“We have,” Gabe confirms, his hand finding mine automatically. “All misunderstandings cleared up.”
“About time,” Harlow says with satisfaction. “Though I have to say, you both look remarkably well-rested for people who were supposedly caught in that storm.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but before I can respond, Gabe reaches for the bag of action figures.
“Actually, we have presents,” he announces, effectively diverting attention from Harlow’s observations.
The twins’ reaction to the superhero figures is everything Gareth could have hoped for—squeals of delight, immediate role-playing scenarios, and questions about whether “Tio Gabe knows real superheroes.”
“These are incredible,” Dax says, examining one of the figures with an artisan’s eye for craftsmanship. “Custom work?”
“Gareth Roman gave them to us,” I explain. “For the twins.”
“The Gareth Roman?” Harlow’s eyes widen. “As in, Hollywood action star Gareth Roman?”
“Gabe’s patient,” I say simply, enjoying their surprised expressions. “He’s actually very down-to-earth. Lives on a ranch outside of town.”
“And apparently plays matchmaker in his spare time,” Gabe adds with a grin.
We spend the next hour in easy conversation while the twins play with their new toys in the adjoining playroom. There’s something deeply satisfying about this—sitting with friends who’ve known us separately for years, who’ve watched our careful dance around each other with varying degrees of patience and amusement.
“You know,” Dax says during a lull in conversation, “we were starting to wonder if you two would ever figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“That you’re perfect for each other,” Harlow says simply. “It’s been obvious to everyone else for years.”
“Not everyone,” Gabe protests mildly.
“Everyone,” Dax confirms. “Even Nana had money on you two getting together eventually.”
“There was betting?” I demand, torn between outrage and amusement.
“Friendly wagering,” Harlow corrects with a grin. “And for the record, I said it would happen during Tristy’s wedding weekend. I was technically right.”
“You were off by a few days,” Gabe points out.
“Close enough to claim victory,” she replies smugly.
As the morning progresses, I find myself relaxing completely for the first time in weeks. The conversation flows between professional updates—Dax’s latest commission for a Manhattan penthouse, Harlow’s research on a new pediatric procedure—and personal news. The twins regale us with stories from their recent camping trip with their grandfather Daniel, complete with dramatic reenactments of s’mores preparation.
“We should probably head back soon,” Gabe says eventually, checking his watch. “I have a few patients this afternoon, and Andrea has the drive back to Albuquerque.”
“Actually,” I say, the words surprising even me, “I was thinking I might stay an extra day or two. Spend some time in Taos.”
His face lights up. “Really?”
“Really.” I squeeze his hand. “My schedule’s clear until Wednesday, and after everything that’s happened... I think we could use the time together.”
“You can stay here if you want,” Harlow offers immediately. “We have plenty of space, and the twins would love it.”
“Not this time,” Gabe interrupts. “She’s staying with me. She hasn’t seen my new place yet.”
“Fair warning,” Dax tells me with a grin. “He’s gone from having a bachelor pad to buying something domestic-friendly over the past year. Built-in bookshelves, bigger kitchen island, family-sized dining table...”
“Built-in bookshelves?” I turn to look at Gabe, who’s trying to hide his embarrassment.
