Chapter Twenty-Two
Elle stopped in her driveway to stare at the package leaning against her front door. Judging from the basic brown paper, twine wrapping, and its size, it was some kind of painting.
What was it doing here?
Except she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know. There was only one person who’d be leaving her things on the front doorstep, and she didn’t want anything to do with him right now. A week sure as heck wasn’t long enough to sort out how she felt. A year wouldn’t be long enough.
With a sigh, she unlocked the door and carted the package inside. A cowardly voice insisted she toss it in the garbage, but that was freaking rude, no matter who gave the present. Elle settled for tucking it behind the sofa. She’d deal with it later—when she wasn’t on the verge of bursting into tears. Lord, she was a mess.
As the night wore on, Elle couldn’t settle down. She moved from one part of the house to the other—trying to zone out with a book until it became obvious she couldn’t focus on the words, poking through the fridge but deciding she wasn’t hungry after all—before finally trudging upstairs to fold laundry. Faced with a huge pile of clean clothes, she decided she didn’t really want to do that either. Nothing could hold her interest.
She needed to do something about it.
No, she didn’t want to see. It had to be from Gabe—he didn’t deserve the time and effort it would take her to go downstairs and unwrap it.
Back and forth she went. Should she throw it out or sit up here and pretend it didn’t exist? Yeah, ’cause the last one was working out so well. Finally, completely disgusted with herself, Elle picked up her phone. It rang a few times before Roxanne answered. “Rox, I need you.”
“What happened?”
“I think Gabe left something here for me. I’m…afraid to open it.”
Roxanne sighed and Elle loved her all the more for not hanging up right then and there. “I’m on my way.”
“I love you, Rox.”
“Yeah, you too.” She hung up, probably cursing Elle up one side and down the other in her head.
Elle sat on her bed, rocking back and forth, until she heard the front door open. For one insane moment, she was sure Gabe had come back and every cell in her body leapt to life. But then Roxanne’s voice echoed through the house, “Elle?”
“Up here.”
“Uh-huh. Right. I’m assuming this is the painting? I’ll just get to it.”
The sound of ripping paper had Elle up and off the bed in record time. She ran down the stairs to find Roxanne setting the painting on the kitchen island. For several breaths, she refused to reconcile what she was seeing. “That’s…”
“Yes, it looks like the same painting you’ve been obsessed with for months.” Roxanne tilted her head to the side. “I mean, it’s pretty enough, but I don’t really see the appeal.”
“It’s…” She couldn’t even begin to find the words to express her emotions. Good lord, she didn’t even know what she was feeling right now. Elle had seen the price tag on this piece—she’d agonized over the reality that she’d never be able to afford it. Not in a million years.
Gabe bought it for her.
“I have to take it back.”
Roxanne gave her a look like she’d lost her mind. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t take this. It’s too much.”
“Honey, listen to yourself.” Elle made a grab for the painting, but she easily held it out of reach. “Stop for a second and think about this. How long have you wanted this painting?”
“Five months.”
Roxanne dodged another wild reach. “And could you have ever bought it for yourself?”
“No! That’s the point.” Elle smacked her hip on the corner of the island hard enough to bruise. Ouch. “He can’t freaking buy me off.”
“I really don’t think that’s what he’s trying to do.” When Elle’s mouth dropped open, she handed over a sealed envelope. “Look, I get that you have crazy-conflicted feelings about this guy, but I’d have to be blind not to see that he’s crazy about you. The least you can do is read what he wrote.”
Elle backed away as if the envelope were going to reach out and bite her. Heck, maybe it was. “I don’t want to hear what he has to say.”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “Whose side are you on?”
“Are you even listening to yourself? You’re pissed off at him for…what exactly? For wiping lipstick off his face? It’s not like you found him banging that bitch against the wall. For being too much like Jason? Because I don’t really see how he’s all that similar to your pissant of an ex-boyfriend. For leaving you? Honey, you’re the one who took off and told him to lose your number. Or maybe it was for giving you multiple mind-blowing orgasms? Because that doesn’t sound all that bad either, Elle.” Roxanne set the painting down and smoothed her hair back. “I love you, but this is ridiculous. Did the man make you happy?”
She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t lie to her best friend. “Yes.”
“Then, again, what’s the problem?”
“He lied to me.”
“Did he? Or did you take off before he had a chance to explain?”
“I saw him kissing that woman.”
“You saw him wiping off her lipstick. Look, it’s simple. Are you really going to throw away a chance to be happy based on what might be a misunderstanding?”
“It’s not a misunderstanding.” It wasn’t.
Was it?
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, sweetie. I’m going home.” Roxanne turned and walked out of the room, leaving Elle staring after her.
Great, now she’d managed to alienate the last person on earth sympathetic to her cause. She used the corner of the painting to rotate it toward her. As usual, its beauty actually took Elle’s breath away. If Gabe was really trying to buy her off, he was doing a darn good job of it. Only one way to tell for sure, though. She inched the envelope closer, taking in the total lack of decoration. It didn’t even have her name on it. Then again, who else would it be for?
And, yeah, she was totally stalling.
Holding her breath, she tore into it and pulled out the letter. Elle choked on a laugh. Of course it was written on lined paper and ripped out of a spiral notebook. Why did she even bother being surprised? A part of her wanted to be derisive—seriously, couldn’t he put a little bit of effort into some stationery?—but the rest of her smothered the voice. Gabe had just given her the single most overwhelming gift of her life, worlds better than any guy she’d ever dated. Biting her lip, she started to read.
Then the meaning of his words hit. She groped for the kitchen stool, unable to tear her eyes from the page. This wasn’t a gloating “Look what I bought you! I done good” letter. No, this was something else entirely. Elle read it twice, set it down, and then picked it up again. Surely he wasn’t serious. She looked at the painting and then back to the letter. Oh yeah, he was serious.
Elle,
Babe, I wish I knew what to say to make this better, but we both know I’m no good with words. So I’ll tell you what I’m feeling right now, and then you can decide where you stand. I know this whole thing with me hasn’t been what you’ve imagined dating should be, and I’m really goddamn sorry for the other night. I know you won’t believe me, but I swear to God nothing happened with Lynn. She’s the manager of my L.A. club and was up here because I’d been blowing off my responsibilities to be with you. She kissed me on the cheek like she always does. Nothing more, nothing less.
All that shit aside, I care about you. Hell, woman, I’m falling for you, hard and fast, and I don’t even know which way is up anymore. I mean, Christ, I felt like I’d won the lotto when you crawled into my bed, but being with you has turned into so much more than mind-blowing sex. You make me want things I’ve never allowed myself to want before, and you’ve made me happier than I’ve been in years.
I’m sorry, babe, really sorry. Please forgive me.
I just found you. I don’t want to lose you.
—Gabe
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but she wouldn’t have believed him if he’d tried that angle. No, this wasn’t an angle at all. Just pure Gabe. Elle pressed the paper to her lips, her mind whirling. He was falling for her. She made him happy, made him want to settle down. She wasn’t alone in this sideways emotional spiral.
Setting the letter back on the counter, she focused on the painting. A token of how crazy he was about her—not him trying to buy her off. God, Roxanne had been right. She was so busy living in the past, she’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion without giving him a chance to explain. And if she’d trusted him the way he deserved, he wouldn’t have even needed to explain anything. Realizing that made her feel like a heel. All this time she’d been so sure he was in complete control, was toying with her, but it had just been her personal fears at work.
It was a lot to think about. Elle walked upstairs and into the spare bedroom. The painting she’d started that morning two weeks ago still stood, half-covered, exactly where she’d left it. She crossed the room in halting steps and pulled the sheet off. Even after having only seen him the one time, she’d captured the muscle tone of his chest and breadth of his shoulders. Gabe had certainly made an impression.
She skimmed over the memories of their time together, focusing on the morning after the allergic reaction. He’d bared his soul to her about his past, about his mother. That had been the truth.
Her taste in men wasn’t as bad as she thought.
Which meant she needed to figure out how to make this right. Elle picked up her brush and moved to the canvas. It was time to finish what she’d begun. She just needed to find the courage to take that step.