Page 73 of Dear Pink

“A piece of this puzzle is missing,” she says.

“Yep.” I rub my eyes. “I have no clue which piece.”

“What did you say before she jumped on her bike?” Gloria is in full detective mode.

“Um . . . I said I love how she lives without fear.”

“Hmm. Anything else?”

“I told her how much I like her.” Peaches meows for another treat, and I grab a couple more from the bin.

“Then she left?” Gloria gives the treats to a purring Peaches. “Gabe?” She pokes her fingernail into my arm.

“Ouch,” I say, rubbing the indentation.

“Gabe?”

Gloria goes in for another poke, and I jerk away. “She said, ‘Not doing this,’ and then she left.”

Gloria’s demeanor softens. “Maybe you came on too strong? Did you scare her away by being too aggressive?”

“We’re dating. At least I imagined we were. We make out whenever we get together. I’m surprised we haven’t been ticketed for PDA.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Have you slept with her yet?”

I flush. “None of your business.”

“I didn’t ask to be crude. I want to help you, dork.”

“I don’t question your sex life . . . and I stay clear of Jacob.”

“Well, thank fuck for small miracles. I could tell you how much I enjoy—”

“Stop. Stop.” I cover my ears. “Too much sister information.”

“Okay, chill. So, have you?”

“Fine. Yes, we have,” I say.

“Maybe you’re terrible in bed. Do you please your partner first?”

“Oh. My. God. Gloria. I won’t discuss this with you.”

“You need help in this department?” she asks, her face smug. “I can tell you how to pleasure a woman.”

I shove my chair away from my desk. “Enough. It’s all good. I’m all good. Hannah is all good.”

“Is she, though? She ran away from you.”

“Biked away, and for your information, I understand how to take care of my partner. I’m not a selfish bastard.” I flash to the last time we were in bed . . . kneeling in front of Hannah, making her moan, climbing over her, and entering her warmth. I clear my throat and wipe a bead of sweat off my brow. My skin blazes with heat. Why did she ride away without a word?

Gloria gives me a curious look. “So, it’s not the sex?”

“I don’t think so.” Her moans weren’t fake.

“Have you texted her?”

I hand Gloria my phone.

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