Chapter Twenty-One
Rachel rested back on the pillow mountain she’d made on Gabe’s bed and waited for him to get out of the shower. She stretched out, her gaze sweeping across the room before it locked onto his wallet on the dresser. Biting the side of her cheek, Rachel warred with herself. There was no way Gabe could’ve stashed away the cards since he’d been otherwise… occupied all evening.
Climbing out of the bed slowly, she made her way toward the dresser and picked up the wallet. It was heavy in her hand as she cast a quick look toward the bathroom before returning her eyes to the soft leather in her palm.
Opening it felt as wrong as opening the email from Jared, but it would also let her know once and for all if Gabe was involved. She had no idea how much time passed as she stood there and contemplated opening the wallet. But it was evidently long enough for Gabe to finish his shower, because she startled at the sound of the door opening. She quickly threw the wallet back on the dresser, causing it to knock over a picture frame of Gabe, Jace, and Ben.
Gabe, who had been drying his hair with a towel, jerked his head up to look at her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Totally. I was just…” she scooped up the picture frame and showed it to Gabe, “looking at this picture of you guys. You look so young.”
Gabe chuckled. “Yeah, we were still in college. You want breakfast?” Gabe asked.
“Um, I guess that depends.”
“On what?” He changed into a pair of worn dark jeans and a crisp white V-neck T-shirt and motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen.
“On whether I’ll be the one making it.”
Gabe chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to the microwave, stooping a bit so he could see his reflection as he pushed his hair up and over to one side. “What? You don’t trust my culinary skills?”
“The opposite. I was kind of hoping you were going to make something. I’m not really in the mood to cook. I guess my domestic capabilities begin and end at cleaning.”
“I don’t expect you to cook and clean for me, you know?” he said, raising an eyebrow at the suit and dress she’d picked up from the living room floor as they’d walked through it. “This isn’t the nineteen fifties.”
“Good, because I don’t think I could wear a dress every day.”
“But you look so hot in them,” he said with a pout that was obviously intentional.
Rachel laughed and shook her head like she was bothered by his comment when they both knew it was the opposite.
Gabe took the clothes from her hands after he’d finished fixing his hair and washing his hands. “I actually thought we’d go to this place a few blocks down. A little mom and pop joint that makes a killer breakfast. I used to go there all the time, and it would only be locals. But then the place was featured on one of those diner shows and tourists found out about it. I haven’t been there in a while.”
“Sure, that sounds great,” she agreed. “Let me just get ready.”
“No rush,” he said. “We can drop these at the cleaners too while we’re out.”
It occurred to her how routine that sounded: like they’d been together for years and were running out to take care of some weekend errands. “Perfect,” she said before heading into the bathroom for a shower.
The fifteen-minute walk from Gabe’s to the diner was a welcome one. Though the air was chilly in the early spring morning, it felt refreshing, allowing her to clear her mind for the first time in a long time. Gabe talked about his time in the city and how he’d be happy to make the trip to New York to visit her once she had to go home.
Though his gesture was comforting, it reminded her of something she’d tried so hard to forget recently: Her time with Gabe was limited in more ways than one. And the thought wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on. She’d enjoy what time she did have left with him. “What’s good at this place?” she asked as Gabe opened the door for her to step inside. A bell rung with their entrance, and they were greeted by a young waitress with a tight blond bun and a warm smile who told them to sit anywhere they’d like and she’d be over soon to take their orders.
A minute after they sat down, the server appeared with two menus and took their drink orders.
“To answer your question… stuffed French toast,” Gabe said. “It’s the best. And not a lot of places have it.”
“What’s it stuffed with?” Rachel asked, scanning her menu for the item.
“Whatever you want.” Gabe pointed to the spot on Rachel’s menu that had the choices. “I usually get strawberries and cream cheese, but they have Nutella or peanut butter and bananas. They even make one like a breakfast sandwich with sausage, egg, and cheese inside.”
Rachel looked over the choices, thinking how amazing everything sounded: fresh-baked pastries, build-your-own omelets, specialty pancakes. Ultimately, she decided on an omelet with spinach and mushrooms with a side of bacon. When she declined the toast, Gabe asked the waitress to bring it out anyway because he’d eat it.
“Enough carbs?” Rachel joked after the waitress left.
Gabe scoffed as if the question were ludicrous. “No such thing,” he said.
Sipping on coffee, they waited for their food. Gabe showed her a trick that involved balancing two forks linked together on a toothpick. It was utterly ridiculous, and Rachel loved every second of it. Just as she started to think how childlike she probably seemed as she tried to do it herself with Gabe’s help, a little boy appeared beside their table. The man next to him, who Rachel assumed was his father, had a hand on the kid’s shoulder as he spoke. “Sorry to bother you, but me and my son just happened to look over here while we were eating and… You’re Gabriel Torres, right?”
“That would be me,” Gabe said with a nod. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Um, my son was hoping he could get your autograph. He wanted a picture, but I told him that would be too much. We don’t want to interrupt your meal.”
It occurred to Rachel that they kind of already were, but of course she’d never say that.
Gabe gave the kid a friendly smile and began to slide out of the booth. “No, it’s fine. Really. Our food hasn’t even come out yet. I’m happy to do it.”
The man seemed more excited than his son, but Rachel kept that comment to herself too. Instead she said, “Would you like to get in the picture, too? I’ll be happy to take it.” She extended her hand toward the man who already had his phone out.
The man’s face lit up with the offer, and for the first time, Rachel could see what Gabe had been talking about when he’d said that fans weren’t the problem. Most of the time they were friendly and appreciative, and in this case, completely star struck. Gabe had been able to make this guy’s day with nothing more than a few kind words and a smile.
Rachel knew how the man felt. Gabe had the same effect on her.
***
By the time they left the diner, it was almost two hours later. Gabe hadn’t been kidding about the place being a popular tourist attraction. What had begun as a quick picture with a father and son escalated rapidly. Once a few people recognized Gabe, others wanted in on the action, practically lining up at Rachel and Gabe’s table to get an autograph or a picture with the baseball player. Though the staff at the restaurant did their best to give the two some privacy, Gabe’s willingness to appease the crowd only made them more inclined to interact with him. It made Rachel feel conflicted in a way she hadn’t before.
As part of the media, she’d never thought much about what it might feel like to be on the opposite side of things. To have questions and comments thrown your way without regard for their potential impact on the person on the receiving end. Gabe fielded questions about his early retirement and the upcoming season of a team he didn’t even play for anymore. He was even asked who Rachel was. And somehow, he addressed all the comments with dignity and ease, despite the condescending manner with which some of them were obviously posed.
“That was pretty impressive,” Rachel said to him when they were finally able to leave without ignoring anyone.
“What’s that?” Gabe asked her, putting an arm on her shoulder as they crossed the street.
“How you handled all that back there. Those people were all over you, and some of them weren’t even fans. They wouldn’t have even recognized you if other people hadn’t.”
Gabe smiled, but it looked half-hearted. “The years of practice paid off. I guess, in that way, it’s like a sport.”
Rachel had never thought about it like that, but the ability to please both the fans and media without giving in to their every request was a talent in and of itself. But before she got the opportunity to tell him that, a strange ring interrupted her thoughts. “What’s that?” she asked, looking over to Gabe as he fished his phone from his pocket.
“That,” he said with an amused shake of his head, “would be Camille Facetiming me.” He turned the phone so she could see Camille’s face. It looked like she was outside, but Rachel couldn’t tell where.
“You going to answer it?”
“Now?” Gabe seemed surprised that Rachel would suggest that.
“Well, yeah. You can’t answer later. She’s calling now.”
Gabe chuckled. “I know. But I can’t be one of those people who breaks their neck walking on a sidewalk because they were too involved in whatever was on their phone to watch what they were doing. And I’m spending time with you right now. We were already interrupted during breakfast. I can talk to Camille later. I doubt it’s important.” Gabe looked down at his phone when it stopped ringing and made a motion to put it back in his pocket. “Guess the decision was made for me,” he said, but was cut off by the phone ringing again.
Rachel laughed. “Stop walking and answer it.”
Gabe rolled his eyes, but the, “Yes, dear,” he gave Camille when he answered had him smiling.
“What are you doing right now?”
“That’s a dumb question. I’m talking to you.”
Camille ignored his smartass response and dove right in to the reason for her call. “I’m looking for a new car right now, and I need your opinion on it.”
“What happened to your car?”
“Some transmission thing. Wasn’t even worth fixing when I learned of all the other stuff that was wrong with it.”
“Oh shit. Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. I like to believe that she went to a beautiful place called car heaven where she can drive around in the sun with her other car friends. I’m sure she’s up there speeding down an open highway without a cop in sight.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Gabe said. “Molly lived a long, full life and was extremely loved. It was her time.”
The comments made Rachel laugh, but they also made her take notice of how easily the two friends talked, how well they knew each other. Gabe knew the name of Camille’s car, and to Rachel’s knowledge, Gabe didn’t even know if Rachel owned a car. Somehow now that seemed significant to her, even though she knew it wasn’t. At least, not really.
It wasn’t like knowing if someone had a car or not was the key to compatibility or relationship sustainability. Logically, Rachel knew that. She knew it wasn’t a big deal necessarily, knew that the small piece of knowledge wasn’t any real indication of anything. It didn’t matter one way or the other if she owned one. Gabe probably assumed that she didn’t have one because few New Yorkers did.
But for some reason, the seemingly insignificant detail served to draw attention to the fact that there was a part of Rachel’s life—a glaringly large part—that Gabe knew nothing about. And no matter how the two of them proceeded from here, their relationship would always be founded on a lie. She hadn’t been honest about where she worked or why she was in Philadelphia. The only thing she’d been truly candid about were her feelings for him. Though she worried that they wouldn’t be, she hoped they would be enough.
“Can you take a look at this car I found if I walk around it with the phone?” Camille asked.
“Um… I guess I can try. Am I just saying if I like it or not because Rachel’s here too, so you can get two opinions for the price of one.”
“Oh. Hi, Rachel,” Camille said with a wave when Gabe spun the phone toward her. “And no, to answer your question. I actually need you to look at the engine or whatever people look at to tell if cars are okay to buy.”
“I thought you said the car was new?” Gabe asked.
“I said I was getting a new car. And it is new. To me. To someone else, it’s a nine-year-old sedan they probably couldn’t wait to get rid of. Come on, Gabriel. You think I could afford something brand new?”
Gabe laughed. “Gotcha. Well, I’ll try to see if anything looks weird, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to tell on a phone. Do you know how many miles it has on it?”
“Hang on,” Camille said. Rachel heard her open the car door and then say, “A hundred and thirty-two thousand, six hundred and sixty-eight.”
“Keep looking,” Gabe told her. “That thing’s gonna be joining Molly in the afterlife pretty soon.”
“Really? How many miles should be on there?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me it had under a hundred thousand. Ten thousand a year is usually expected, so whoever owned that car first drove well over that.”
“Oh, okay. Well, it smells like cat urine and patchouli in here anyway, so I’m not heartbroken about having to find something else.”
Gabe made a disgusted face before asking her why she hadn’t even looked inside yet.
“I looked in the windows to see the condition of the interior, but I didn’t sit in it or drive it or anything. I knew I was gonna call you, so if you were gonna say it was a piece of shit—which you basically just did—I’d rather find out before I get too attached.”
“Huh,” Gabe said, looking impressed by Camille’s explanation. “That’s actually a pretty good idea. And I don’t know that it’s definitely a piece of shit, but it’s got too many miles on it to risk it. In my opinion, at least. I bet you can find something better. Why don’t you wait ’til tomorrow to look again, and I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“Yeah, okay. That’d be awesome. You don’t mind?”
“No. Not at all. I don’t have a lot going on tomorrow, so I have time. I’d be happy to help.”
The two said goodbye and Gabe told Camille he’d text her tomorrow morning and they’d figure out their plans.
“You don’t mind if I go with Camille, do you?” Gabe asked Rachel after hanging up.
“No.” Rachel was surprised he’d ask that. “Why would I mind?”
Gabe shrugged. “I know you aren’t in the city much longer, so our time together is limited, that’s all. But it shouldn’t take all day or anything, so we could get together later, if you’re free.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” she said. “I have some work to get done anyway. You go help Camille, and you can’t text me when you get back. You said the other day Camille had a new girlfriend you hadn’t met yet. Maybe we can call Jace and Aly and we can all hang out.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gabe replied.