Page 86 of Boiling Point
“Do we really have to dress up for dinner every night?” I asked, dread creeping into my voice. “I thought Isabel was joking.”
He laughed, a rich, unguarded sound. “It’s not bloodyDownton Abbey, but yes. The family is…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Traditional.”
I groaned, burying my face in his chest. “I don’t know how I’m going to get all this into two suitcases.”
“Then take a third.” He rested his chin on the top of my head, the motion tender and reassuring. “Pack what you can, and don’t stress. I suspect Isabel will have a few things waiting for you there.”
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “You’re joking.”
“She likes you.” He kissed my forehead. “And she’s thrilled I’m finally bringing someone home. Between you and me, she doesn’t much care for my brother’s wife, Caroline. But if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”
I ducked away with a half-smile and returned the dress to the closet—anything to keep my hands busy. “I just don’t want to epically screw up in front of your family. I already feel like an impostor.”
“You won’t, and you’re not,” he said, gentler now. “You’re exactly who I want them to meet. Who I want them to know.”
I turned toward him, heart soft and sore and full. But before I could speak, he wandered a few steps across the room, attention drifting. His gaze landed on my desk, where my laptop sat closed and two letters lay stacked beside it—cream stationery, embossed university seals at the top. One from Southern Methodist University, the other from the University of Texas at Dallas. I hadn’t realized I’d left them there.
He picked them up and scanned the text. “When were you planning to tell me?”
I blinked. “Tell you what?”
He held up the letters like they spoke for themselves. “Accepted to the engineering programs at both SMU and UTD?Gabrielle!” He looked at me, eyes bright and disbelieving. “This is incredible. Why didn’t you say anything?”
A flush crept up my neck. “I figured I’d tell you when I decided what to do. I have until July first to commit.”
He shook his head, caught between pride and exasperation. “And you weren’t even going to mention it?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal.” The words tumbled out too fast. “They’re both excellent, but I’m not sure which to choose.”
“What’s holding you back?”
I hesitated. “UTD is great, and I could swing it without taking on debt. But SMU…” I shifted. “It’s so expensive. I qualified for a scholarship, but it’s still going to be a lot.”
He set the letters down on the desk. “Don’t worry about that.”
I pulled a face. “You can’t just say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s not.” He stepped toward me, slow and deliberate. “Where do you want to go?” His voice was calm and steady, like the answer was all that mattered.
The quiet thickened. He held my gaze, waiting, and I felt the truth rise in me, unshakable. “I want to go to SMU,” I said at last. “I do. But I can’t let you?—”
“You can,” he interrupted, already knowing. “And you should. I want to do this for you.”
I shook my head, letting out a small, incredulous laugh. “Fixing my car or beefing up my wardrobe is one thing,” I said, knotting my fingers. “Subsidizing college is another.”
“It’s an investment,” he said, reaching for my hands. “And one I’m more than willing to make.”
I felt the familiar pull of him—like gravity—the way he made everything seem possible and within reach. Still, I held my ground, my stubborn streak refusing to let him carry this too. “We’ll talk about it later.” I kissed his cheek. “Because it won’t make a lick of difference if I don’t make it through my last two finals.”
“Calculus and…”
I nudged him, a playful challenge in my smile. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“Ah, physics…” He trailed his fingers up my spine, slow and deliberate. “Then let me help you…”
“You mean distract me?”
He slid a hand between my legs, claiming my breath in one swift motion. “I prefer to think of it as…relaxing you.”
