Page 88 of Visions of You

First his mother, then his wife.

“Gabe… I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms tightened around me. “When Dad told me about the loan, my head was so screwed up, and my thoughts were jumbled. I worried about the resort. The island. Hailey. The rest of my family. And most of all, you. You’re right, I should have realized how not answering would make you feel. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the sound of my pulse roared in my ears. Gabe Markham loved me? Could I really trust this was real? I was dizzy from the mood swings today had wrought. A white light formed in my gut, then spread throughout my body. Pushing out the fear. The dread. “Of course I do.”

Gabe clutched my face between his hands. Lowering his head, he touched his lips to mine.

They were shockingly cold.

I increased the pressure, determined to warm him up, to banish the shock that had caused him to stand in the rain like this. Our lips melted together, rain entering our mouths when we changed our angle. I ran my hands across his back, over the sodden material of his jacket. “All I’ve ever wanted… was tomatterto someone.” I mouthed the words against his lips.

“I can’t live without you. We belong together.” He kissed me harder, raking his mouth over mine.

“You’re right. We do.” Kissing him back, I met him measure for measure.

Eventually, I raised a hand to his cheek, which was also chilled under my fingers. I pulled back, brought to my senses. And the fact that we stood outside in the pouring rain. “You’re freezing! Come inside.”

He nodded, water flying from his hair.

Taking Gabe’s hand, I led him back to my apartment. The roomwas warm and cozy after standing in the cold rain. We both dripped all over the wood floor. In the light, his face was still drawn, the strain of the past two days written all over him. He stood still and his eyes were dazed, as if he was hardly aware he was sopping wet.

“Stay here,” I said. “You’ve got a pair of shorts upstairs and I have a sweatshirt that might fit you. I’ll be right back.”

I ran up the steps and ripped my sodden T-shirt and pajama bottoms off. I toweled off before pulling on a long-sleeved shirt and yoga pants, then grabbed Gabe’s shorts out of a drawer. An electric current ran through me, and incoherent thoughts raced through my mind. I riffled through my closet until I found the largest sweatshirt I owned, a fuzzy blue one with Half Moon Bay Resort screen printed across the front. It was an XL, so hopefully that would be big enough. Scooping up my wet clothes, I hurried down the stairs.

When I returned to the living room, Gabe had draped his sodden suit jacket over a kitchen chair and was pulling his tie over his head. I relaxed a little at seeing him in motion again. His eyes were more focused now. I handed him the shorts and sweatshirt, setting my wet clothes on the table. “There’s a towel in the bathroom you can use.”

“Thanks.” He dropped his eyes from mine and headed to the bathroom to change.

I crossed the room and removed the kettle from the sink, amazed at all that had happened since I’d stood here just minutes ago. My elation had passed, and now nerves fluttered back and forth through my abdomen. I could hardly process what he’d said.

What would happen now?

I set the kettle down on the counter and leaned back against the granite surface. My head was buzzing. The only man who had ever told me he loved me was the cheating bastard I’d lived with. But hearing those words from Gabe wasn’t at all the same.

Because now I could appreciate the difference.

I understood instinctively that Gabe didn’t use those words often. In fact, he’d told me he never wanted to say them again. For somereason, that knowledge made me feel fragile, like I might break at any moment.

Or worse, wake up to find this was all a dream.

Footsteps sounded as Gabe crossed the room, and I lifted my eyes from the floor. He stopped at the edge of the kitchen. My sweatshirt was a bit small. The sleeves ended above his wrists, and it was tight over his wide shoulders. But his posture was assured again, and confidence once more radiated from his eyes. Something else was there too—happiness.

He smiled at me. “Thanks for the clothes. This is much better.”

A fine tremor ran through my body, and my foot bounced up and down on the floor. “You’re welcome.”

He crossed to the table and laid his wet pants and shirt over the jacket. That spurred me into action, and I padded over the floor. I swept the wet clothes into my arms. “I’ll put these in the dryer. Be right back.”

My washer and dryer were in a separate room off the kitchen. I tossed our clothes in the dryer, then frowned. I didn’t want to ruin his suit by overheating it. Then I reconsidered. If Gabe had stood in the pouring rain, I didn’t think he was overly concerned about the garment. I chose low temperature and pressed start. The purposeful motion settled my nerves somewhat.

Why am I so skittish? He just told me he loved me!

What if he didn’t mean it? What if the stress of the past two days confused him?

Men like Gabriel Markham didn’t fall in love with me.

---